Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Four wood ducks buzzed off as a great blue heron flapped away near the south shore line, tucked up under the trees, as the meathead and I came around the back side of the town pond.
I found it curious that two different bird species were that comfortable being that close to each other.
First ducks I had seen in weeks. Just a much better morning than I expected for wildlife this morning.
Maybe it was the timing.
For the first time in weeks, I slept in late. Well, late for me, until 6 a.m. And the sun was well up by the time the meathead and I set off.
More than half of the last 72 hours were spent writing about the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. And my mind is mush, my body is shot.
I needed the extra sleep.
And I needed an extended ramble to reconnect with the natural world. So I stretched it out to the 2-miler. The last two mornings my rambles were perfunctory, just a quick walk for the meathead.
They didn't really do what I want a ramble to do for me, which is clear my head and reconnect me to nature.
Today was an actual ramble.
Fall is here.
Heavy frost in the backyard, 28 degrees, make that Fahrenheit. It did not expect it to be quite that cold and did not clean off my last tomatoes last night. I will check later this morning.
Temperatures this morning made me smile. Not that it was that cold. It was cold enough that actual ice was frozen on the red clover and tall grass on the back edge of the extended ramble.
But rather that we Americans are like the last to cling to Fahrenheit. Yesterday, at the press conference for elite athletes, the moderator translated the predicted upper 30s into the 40s into Celsius, 4-10 (sounds colder that way) for the international crowd.
It depends on your view.
From Storm's view, the back side of the extended ramble is a visual treat the cars flying past on Route 1 half a mile away most look like something to be chased. And it lunges incessantly to give chase.
From my view, if we are going to endure the agony of fall arriving, it might was well be a morning like this.
Not only did the air feel crisp, but the sky looked crisp.
I was actually happy about fall for a change.
In the distance, Canada geese called. Small birds, ones I couldn't identify, so I am guessing migrators, were thick in the fence rows,
No squirrels, town or country; no rabbits. Not quite sure why.
Four Canada geese swam quietly off the island, more than a dozen swam on the far north end of the north old clay pit and voiced their view of the world, me and the meathead.
Can't say that I agreed with them.
A dove, something I hadn't seen in days, lifted off the gravel near the feed mill on the edge of town. Four more doves in town.
My view of life is much improved.