To Westminster Woods to see Gram, who is now resting comfortably in her apartment. I took some pictures by the lake.
To Westminster Woods to see Gram. After lunch, she fell fast asleep. I went out by the lake and took this picture of an Anhinga to show her next time.
To Westminster Woods to see Gram. On our spin around the lake we met a lovely woman named Carol and her dog, Jenny, a small four-year-old rescue with red, silky fur. Carol kindly lifted Carol twice so that Gram could pet her. Jenny had a sweet disposition. When another woman approached with a small white dog, Jenny sat obediently, her tail wagging furiously.
At the observation deck, another resident–a woman who moved here five weeks ago from Virgina–was throwing bread for the fish and turtles. Gram gazed out at the scene before her–hundreds of fish and probably ten turtles, including one soft shell–vying for pieces of bread. The woman from Virginia said she hadn’t seen an alligator yet since moving to Florida, though her daughter, a long-time Florida resident, had assured her that wherever there was water in Florida, there was an alligator. Definitely true. This morning I’d seen one at the lake at Hanna Park. I pointed it out to a woman fishing nearby. “Look,” I said, pointing to the alligator’s head, the only part visible in the water. She nodded wearily and said nothing.
On our walk Gram and I saw an Anhinga and a Green Heron. Both of them were hanging out near snags, making the background cluttered each time:
Back at home, I saw this Brown Thrasher, in molt:
Not what you want to see perched above the bird feeders in your back yard:
It flew off just after I snapped this pic. A few minutes later, I spotted it again up in the canopy, tearing apart some unidentified prey.
Early this evening the cat and I sat on the deck, the day drawing slowly to a close. The sky still had some brightness, but everything was still and silent, except for the whine of insects that waxed and waned. I saw movement in the canopy in the woods behind our house, and then picked out the features–pointed face and ringed tail–of a raccoon at least sixty feet up in a tree. Here it is, about ten feet below where I first saw it: