~4.8 mi @ ~11.4 min/mi

"Hackamore?" K2 explains bitless bits of horse tack in response to Roadkill's equestrian questions about the difference between a halter and a bridle. "And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim", says Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem "Pied Beauty". Dawn Patrol admires stippled "skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow" and gives thanks for dappled things. Four deer stare and then retreat into the brush by Lupine Lane. A new gray blockhouse stands across the street from stately conventional mansions with manicured broad lawns. "Their owners must be driven crazy when they look out their front windows!"

"Almost a hole in one!" E.R. recounts an extraordinary golf event yesterday. Skeptical Bayesians speculate whether he was pranked by a friend, hallucinated, or actually hit an awesome shot that landed within half a club-length of the pin. Odds favor the final hypothesis. We trot by the Stations of the Cross, straighten ornamental birds perched in a tree near a little free library, and finish in time for early-urgent phone calls. After a good run with friends, all's well in this fickle, freckled world!

(trackfile) - ^z - 2019-05-16