Something happens when one stares through binoculars or aims a camera in some seemingly random direction. The curiosity of other people is roused.
The ice over the pond was thinning, betraying the dark water beneath its increasingly transparent surface. A trio of beavers was there.
The camera is an amazing invention with a value that needs no explanation. More often than not, I carry a camera with me. A simple errand can quickly turn into an impromptu photography session at the sight of a deer or dragonfly.
On the south side of Chicago, I walked across snow-covered sand on an icy lakeshore. The ice that had formed where water met beach lowly creaked as water moved underneath it. The winter day was cold, but, thankfully, there was a lack of wind whose harshness would have only been magnified by traveling across Lake Michigan.
