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| 8:24 |
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| 9:15 |
It's 9:00 — technically 8:00 — and we're both up. I've been awake for an hour, working through the newspapers. It's 39° outside, though it should climb into the 50s later once the sun comes out.
Saturday was a decent day — some sun, a high of 70° around mid-afternoon. We still look forward to Saturdays as if they were the weekend, which is a little crazy when you think about it. The morning followed its usual rhythm, though I somehow forgot to eat breakfast. Neither of us was in any rush, but by 9:30 I was ready to move.
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| Tom's Point Trail |
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| View From Tip Of Tom's Point |
First, I filled the bird feeders. We'd put them away because of the squirrels, but I set one up in the front window and two off the kitchen window. The birds found the front window feeder around 3:00 and have yet to discover the ones in the kitchen. After that, I decided to hike out to Tom's Point, which turned out to be a good choice — a few puddles and snowdrifts aside. There's something about a blue sky that makes any hike feel worthwhile. Twenty minutes out, a few photos, twenty minutes back to the car.
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| Selfie |
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| Trail |
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| Bridge Over Chautauqua Lake |
When I got home, the kitchen smelled of pot roast slow-cooking in the oven — we'd both been craving one, so Evie had put it together while I was out. She also had the trash ready, so I made a quick run to the Transfer Station at noon, which was mercifully uncrowded.
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| Bald Eagles |
Lunch was simple: leftover stir fry with rice and my show. The afternoon had no particular agenda — reading, television, napping, the large leisure of an unscheduled day. The highlight was spotting a pair of bald eagles just off Long Point, picking at a meal on the ice.
Wine at 5:00. Pot roast and mashed potatoes at 6:00. Then we settled in to watch Train Dreams — a film we'd been meaning to see and ended up loving. I'd read the novel about a month ago and was curious how it would translate. It's exactly the kind of film we're drawn to: quiet, unhurried, a moving portrait of a logger and his hardscrabble life — no sensationalism, no politics, no gratuitous violence, just a man and his world in the first half of the twentieth century. Afterward, Evie went up to bed and I watched another episode of my series, then read until I fell asleep.








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