Geese out of formation:
Returning home:
A family favorite for years, from the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir:
The morning sun appears once again. Not all is lost.
The lair of Dog 163, captured in a no-look hipshot:
Looking behind me as I walk home, I first see a passing dog and its person and then, upon closer inspection, what appears to be an old acquaintance, five years unseen and possibly deceased, waiting at the distant street crossing. But by the time I backtrack, he has disappeared. But I have documented the apparition.
When the Washington Post asked its readers to describe 2020 in a word or a phrase, a nine-year-old from Michigan said it was …
https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2020/lifestyle/2020-in-one-word/
Heading out to Rooks Park and Mills Creek; some morning sun observed through the auto window glass:
Arriving at the Mill Creek spillway adjacent to Rooks Park:
A dog (“He gets cold.”) and its person:
[for more on the continuing examination of Dogs and Their People]
At the end of our alley grows a tremendous tree, almost shading half the block. Approaching from the distant intersection, I began to hear the dense chorus of bird chatter, and saw that dozens, perhaps hundreds, were hidden in its branches and many more were flying in every few seconds. Almost a scene from Alfred Hitchcock.