It is 12:30 on a sunny, seasonally temperate Saturday. People are going about their business; kids are playing; mothers are shopping.
And in the midst of a quiet tree-lined street in a heavily traveled, semi-congested suburb less than a mile from the Beltway I came across what I thought were chintzy lawn ornaments.
Yes, they were frozen in the sunlight. Until I started moving a little closer for photographs.
Then they sauntered to the shade, and then, as another car pulled up, loped across the street, sprang over a fence and continued probably toward the White House, where as we all know, the buck always stops.