Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
The fog was so thick this morning . . .
How thick was it, Dale?
So thick, that when the meathead surged to the edge of his leash, I had to whistle to bring him back close enough to see.
So thick, that I was reminded of the cartoon from my childhood where the character said, ``The fog was so thick, I could cut it; so I did.''
The fog was so thick I kept my eyes down, because otherwise I would have gotten dizzy halfway through the ramble from staring into the white abyss.
And I know something about staring into the abyss.
With my eyes down, I noticed that somebody had dumped a car ash tray by the ball field at the town park.
Not opened the window and dumped the ash tray. No, stopped their vehicle, opened the door and dumped the ash tray in a neat pile on the road.
And a trash can was maybe 10 steps away.
What kind of human being does that?
That got me thinking about sins of commission and sins of omission.
And degrees of sinfulness. Is murder, adultery and a white lie all lumped under sin or are their degrees of sinfulness?
Even though I may not be theologically correct, I fall on the side of degrees of sinfulness.
Another thing I know something about.
Apparently fog does something to my mind.
I didn't expect to see any wildlife in the zero visibility, and was nearly right.
Plenty of Canada geese called unseen in the distance. The rattling call of the belted kingfisher came again from the northeast corner of north old clay pit.
The fog was so thick a freight train came through town at half speed.
Back home, in the distance, I could make out the vague shape of two gray squirrels by my neighbor's elm.