Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I have been so busy trying to avoid stepping in the ribbons of goose poop around the town pond that I nearly missed the ripening mulberries.
They popped while we were off for visit to Table Rock Lake and the in-laws over Memorial Day weekend.
This morning while stepping around the ribbons on the back side of the town pond, I noticed black splotches indicative of a tree with ripe mulberries.
And there was some. They were ripe, but small and bitter. I don't know if it was the weather (record March heat, the cool dryness of April) or what, but they were not the tasty nuggets I usually savor this time of the year.
As I stepped along again, a bullfrog croaked deeply.
The seasons move resolutely along, odd weather or not.
The building slop in the corner of the town pond beckons for me to toss a topwater frog.