Night.

Another must-have Albany experience.

At least they’ve got their priorities in order.

Angel on high proclaiming the sublimeness of our Beloved Leader.

The Tower of Albany, where they used to keep political prisoners.

On the freeway, heading north.

Heading today to Albany for a reading sponsored by the NY State Writers’ Institute at the Nine Pin Cider Works, 929 Broadway, 7:00 P.M. See you there.

The morning, 7:15 A.M.

Dusk.

Wildlife.

The Bear Den.

Some blooms for you.

Sculptures in the park. Raise your hand if you think they add anything positive to the natural environment.

The newspaper.

The egg (s).

The morning, 7:15 A.M.

Night.

Bark of the day.

America the formerly beautiful against the backdrop of the former Tappan Zee Bridge (but hey, who needs history in the Age of Trump?).

They mate for life. P.S. So do I.

Springtime in the hills above the Hudson.

To our shame, disgrace and collective misery.

Hallelujah!

I feel the same way about it—it’s not my boyhood town either.

Good to know, Jimbo.

Scintillating (but not THE lion).

I hear you. Looking forward to black light in the night.

Yeah, whew!

We’ll send a couple buckets of water down to you via UPS.

Gorgeous. Enjoy.

Yes, but THE EGG is back in California.

And a cheery good morning to you too!

The newspaper. Shocking. Why would anyone want to harm our beloved president, whose every thought is for our welfare?

The morning, 7:05 A.M.

Night (with artificial turf).

Overlooking the Mighty Hudson and the Indian Point nuclear power plant.

The old Dutch Mill, Route 202.

The morning, 7:30 A.M.

It’s a rainy night in Hastings-on-Hudson and it’s raining all over the world. (Apologies to Brook Benton.)

The U.S. Senate, agreeing with Our Supreme Leader.

The morning, 7:30 A.M.

Evening over the Mighty Hudson.

The newspaper.

Additional morning.

The morning, 7:30 A.M.

Late cocktail hour.

Not my bear effigy.

The awakening.

Artificial lawn. A sure sign of spring.