Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
One time when my father-in-law took me morel hunting, we turned back quick when he said, "It doesn't smell right."
At first, I thought he was giving me one of those old wives' tales that country people repeat too easily. But over the years, I have come to find more wisdom in it.
This morning when the meathead and I rounded a corner, I knew what my father-in-law meant. It smelled right: rich, loamy, fecund.
So I took an extended ramble to look at one of my morel spots.
OK, truth be told, I looked at one of my surefire spot on Friday after seeing reports on MorelMania.com about finding morels in southern Illinois earlier this week. Today I see reports as far north as Peoria County.
I didn't find any morels, but it was good just to look.
Dozens of red-winged blackbirds trilled around the town pond.
The pair of Canada geese were on their nest on the island by midweek.
I find it interesting to try to tell if the mother goose is asleep or simply trying to hide with the way she is flopped flat on the nest.
It's good to ponder spring things, even early.