Geese out of formation:
Returning home:
An Early Evening Walk
Month: December 2020
Christmas 2020: Refrigerator Poetry by Kim
The Day of Pandemic Christmas
A walk in the park:
Sighting two hawks at distance, but one, then the other flies away as we approach:
Returning home to the lair of the beast:
Then we zoom with Nik, while Ivi multitasks:
A New Joy
A family favorite for years, from the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir:
Second Avenue, On the Way to 30 West
Great Conjunction?
Look hard; you might miss it.
First sighting (through the windshield, handheld, traveling down Rose Street):
Finding a spot on a country road just outside of town, and giving up on wrestling with a tripod in the cold and dark:
And finally, before heading back to town:
Coronavirus Diary: December 19, 2020
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.
Summing Up 2020
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 …
Like looking both ways before crossing the street and then getting hit by a submarine
https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2020/lifestyle/2020-in-one-word/
Coronavirus Diary: December 18, 2020
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 Tesla in the woods:
A dog (“He gets cold.”) and its person:
[for more on the continuing examination of Dogs and Their People]
Morning sun as we leave an hour or so later:
The Tree on the Alley
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.
