Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
For a second time this week, I slipped on jeans before rambling off with the meathead.
It felt good. Jeans and my deer-stamped white sweatshirt.
One advantage of my job is, in summers like this, I live in shorts or swim trunks. Other than for church or funerals.
Used to be summer was my favorite time. I loved the heat. In the last few years, something changed (getting older?) and the heat chisels at my will.
It's been a long summer in that regard. And it sounds like the heat is coming back again this weekend.
But we are nearing the end of that.
This morning I simply savored a cooler morning, though not cool as originally forecast. No wisps of fog streamed off the town pond.
Even warm enough that frogs jumped all over the place with the essential squeak in mid-leap from shore to water.
Storm surged in chase after them.
The way my mind works, I wondered what he would do if he actually caught a frog.
A pair of belted kingfishers dipped over the trail between the two ponds.
In another month, a blue heron will set up at the neckdown under the bridge and scare the hell out of Storm and me as it flaps off, seeming like something huge and prehistoric, when we walk up.
Good-sized bluegill swam in the pockets weeds on the deeper edge of the neckdown. Farther along, there was a new, brightly colored slip float caught on a branch hanging out too far to reach.
We kept rambling to be on time.
The kids are back in school already.