I spy with my little stye

Walked around the pond (approximately 1.1 miles) in the lovely early late afternoon light of autumn post-DST time change. The sky was grey with the incoming cold front, but a hint of gold shone through. With my good eye I could spy monarchs migrating high above the trees as Felecia always noticed. With my other eye I could spy mostly goo -- generic eye inflammation over-the-counter goo from CVS ($8.79).

Played a round of my favorite game, Bother The Hawk. The rules are simple. Stay on the trail. Get close enough to a hawk to provoke it to fly and settle a bit down the trail. Repeat as often as luck allows. Luck allowed two turns.

Birds had a more turns as I startled a few in the fuzzy-headed grasses along the bank, and then a great blue heron, already too far off to show in the photo. Walking got my head out of a book, but not my mind out of Glyn Maxwell's Drinks With Dead Poets, a fall term in an elective not-for-credit master poets class.  Loving it!

Don't want my invertebrate buddies to feel slighted.