how little our eyes permit us to see

What follows are a few of the sights from the past week.

Hour-long drive with half-hour detour. Old friend. Pizza & beer. The end.
After some time to recover--different friend. Different beer, this time with nachos. Delicious.
Same night, my second beer choice. Different but also delicious--this time, with chicken strips. The bar does a punch-card deal with their very wide selection of fancy beers; so far we've got about eight punches. 
Lying on the ground on a gentle rise in the park, looking up at the tree overhead. A bit sinister close up.
A different tree, up the rise, closer to the river.
Only one of the street lights at the levee has ivy on it, though it grows in proximity to each of them. Mysterious!
The ivy-covered light pole, from the opposite direction, with bridge and sunset.
Farmers' Market on Saturday. Hotter than blazes (yes, I was mostly in the shade) and a great atmosphere. I can't wait to go back.
Tube cat, sleeping next to me while we watched The Princess Bride. As you wish, Buttercup.
Other cat, always curious. She loves me--til she needs to bite me.

[the title quotation is by Dorothea Lange, and reads in its entirety: "While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see."]

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