More owl photos.
Winter storm warning. Flat sky and the air has an expectant feeling. Townsfolks are hustling around stocking up and keeping an ear to the radio for sleet, freezing rain and school closures.
The woods have every color of brown and grey in the planet's palate. Nothing across the creek and nothing on the near cam. Just coons, smart enough to stay out of my trap. There was a HUGE deer track, solitary, in the center of the field. You couldn't tell where he was going, but big.
Corn sack is empty.
One of the Screech Owls appeared in their nest hole around the corner. We watched them all summer as the young ones grew up. They were usually out one window or another at Mary's house. Kept her sitters alert.
Tomorrow is Mary Burtons 95th birthday. She hoped she wouldn't make it, back when she is talking. She'll hold your hand a bit now, kind of look at you and move her lips, then drift off. Not much left to be said.
Owls are the harbinger of death for many cultures. Maybe he is just here for her birthday but either way, we are just about done.