I do not have my camera, this morning. I have only my eyes. My phone didn’t charge, and the battery goes out at the start of my walk. And walking, and looking at everything that might have been a photo I would take, I see that my camera is a wonderful instrument, but it is useless without my eyes. And it’s my eyes that do the most work in composing a photo. And, without my camera, this morning, I see and enjoy all the beautiful things anyway. I take Charlie to the boat landing where he loves to dive for rocks. Three geese and a mallard are there and watch him play. Then the mallard flies off and the geese honk and honk at us. In the studio, my daughter and I record another batch of the poems. The time flies by, she does a wonderful job. I’m excited to see what we’ve made. We are fortunate to work so well together. We each appreciate the other’s creative contribution. I don’t take that for granted. There is so much activity around the house, the porch being rebuilt, the trees being trimmed along the driveway, the mason finishing the chimney at the top of the roof, the deck being power washed and readied for painting. And the chickadees are flitting fast from forsythia to lawn to tree branch to lawn. They are finding something they love in the lawn, and the little one sneaks barefoot quiet up to them in the grass hoping to be as close as he can.