Daughter Nancy sent pictures Monday of owls sitting on our Rhode Island patio. They were there for at least an hour, she said, and were not the least bit disturbed by her taking pictures through the window.

I think they miss their tree, the one that fell on our house a few years ago. An owl used to sit on the largest horizontal branch and survey the world for breakfast chipmunks.

Last Wednesday Banjo Man came home from town and told me he’d seen a moose walking down the middle of Highway 200, across from the gas station that used to sell ice cream cones and only a mile or so from Walmart.

Highway 200, though a state road, is only two lanes. And can be busy.

“Are you kidding me?” could be my only response.

“No,” he insisted. “Cars pulled over and slowed down and everyone gave it a chance to decide what it was going to do. I was too busy driving to take a picture. And it ended up standing by a barbed wire fence. I don’t know what happened.”

Oh, if I had been with him we’d know what happened. We would have pulled over and watched. Taken pictures. My shock and awe and commentary would have known no bounds.

“It was just like Northern Exposure,” Banjo Man declared. One of our favorite shows, the opening scene shows a moose strolling down the main street of the small Alaska town.