Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
We'll get to why I have a YouTube video of ``The Vapors'' doing their ``Turning Japanese.''
The hedge apples are gone from the path on the back side of the town pond. Dozens are still strewn through the weeds and brush along the ditch, but none on the path.
I know what happened.
A stunningly cold morning for Oct. 8. The weathermen weren't kidding about the freeze warning.
Not just heavy frost in the backyard at 25 degrees just before dawn, but a frozen crunch even to stepping on the grass.
The meathead and I stepped lively, and yes we can. Think I heard that somewhere before.
A great blue heron lifted off from under the bridge over the neckdown by the two old clay pits. That's a fairly typical scene on fall mornings.
Instead of flying off in the other direction, it circled around us. That gave a startlingly stark view, like something, say a stork, out of a Japanese ink drawing. Of course that made me think of the song. The heron just flew to the north end of the north clay pit.
Two Canada geese quietly swam around the island, giving us the watchful eye. A few fish dimpled the surface of the pond, which must have cooled enough because only a few wisps of fog lifted off it.
I needed the ramble with Storm.
For the past week, I was burrowed into writing about the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. At a certain point, the world narrows down to only that.
The ramble widened my world view again.
Like I said, there were no hedge apples on the back path. Yesterday, my wife took Storm and the two youngest kids on a walk. The kids decided to invent a game of bowling with hedge apples.
Then, at supper last night, the youngest boy asked, ``Do fish eat hedge apples?''
Now, we have some big carp in the town pond, but I don't think they are in the habit of eating hedge apples.
Squirrels will bust up hedge apples later in the winter, but I don't think fish have the size or hands to do it.
Little wildlife this morning: No squirrels, town or country; no rabbits; no ducks; no kingfishers.
A lone dove flew out of the weed patch by the gravel near the feed mill on the edge of town.