D.O.P.-T. (yesterday)

I'm trying to keep up with refilling the bird sock, with half and half the long thin black seeds and the mostly round seeds. The feathered crowd are appreciative, which leads to lots of spillage on the concrete path underneath. This morning I startled a dozen Mourning Doves who were chowing down down there.

D.O.P.-T.

It was a hot day in San Jose. I thought I saw a young man in a Týr t-shirt, but it must have been a mirage.