Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Another two inches of snow Wednesday night and early Thursday, then almost another inch last night.
The light snow must have drawn the animals out. There were plenty of fresh tracks from rabbits, cats, mice and birds. No pheasant tracks and I don't think we passed over any squirrel tracks.
More the pity no tire tracks over squirrels. Stop myself.
Just a good winter morning.
I thought mine were still the first human tracks on the back side of the town pond. Then I saw a pair of foot prints angling off from the stopped boxcars on the railroad tracks.
There isn't a house within a mile in that direction.
So I wondered if there might be a hobo holed up in one of the boxcars.
Of course, that made me wonder if boxcar was one or two words, so I looked it up.
While mulling words, I wondered whether that person would properly be described as a hobo, bum or homeless.
The only one of those three words with romance clinging to it is hobo.
I didn't wonder enough to wander over to the boxcars to see if anybody was home.
Beside the morning was brisk enough in the low teens that a mile and a half was enough rambling for one morning.