As I stepped outside this frosty morning I heard what sounded like some rather loud sawing. which, of course, I supposed, should be expected here in noisy village. But that is when expetations led me astray. By the time I got my head on straight all I saw was the tail end of five or six sandhills winging loudly out of sight just above the treetops.

On our morning wak through Starin Park Pax and I enountered the usual abundance of squirrels. Looking whichever way we might, we were never able to seen none, and a typical 360 revolution revealed at least half a dozen. These are industrious beings, working from sunrise to sundown, hopping endlessly everywhere, crisscrossing every square inch of terriory, in their desire to be prepared for winter, I presume.

Then a bit farther along, we came across a flock of finches feeding on ash seeds, which is somehing I have never seen before. If the emerald ash borerer has not yet arrived, ash seeds, those the slender little winged lances, are innumerable. So it looks like these finches have an endless, moveable feast, at least for now. Another perfect day—frosty in the morning, but bright, and still, and almost warm in the afternoon.

Rockport style green chili for dinner tonight.