Friday, April 15, 2005
Behind the house, facing away from the road, was a river. Across the river the hills rose suddenly and steeply. There was a bald eagle that flew, hunting, in the early morning. I would try to watch it, but some mornings, like in this picture, the fog was so dense that I could see little. Today I can see little, because my eye is so painful. I will go back to the doctor.