It's a soggy but sunny afternoon. We can hear the hollow sound of waves crashing along the island's southern shore, the storm's aftermath. We've been seeing an owl lately, out in broad daylight, cruising the bog -- a barred owl, I think.
It comes up close to the house, closer than you might expect it to.
It spent the afternoon swooping back and forth.
Then it rested and gazed all about with its owlish eyes. Lyndon thinks it's scoping out the hens.