Cris and I will often sit out on the deck and have a drink at the end of the day. For the last week or so, I have been looking at this white birch and seeing eyes looking at me. (Maybe it’s the beer.) It’s not creepy or anything, but it makes me think of people who claim to see Jesus’s image on a potoato chip or in a coffee stain on their stove-top. If you can’t quite see it, just squint or take off your eyeglasses.