Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Well, so much for those spectacular mornings with red-ball dawns.
So much for that chipper feeling.
I tend to find myself in a pre-holiday, post-deer season funk in the best of times.
Throw in that poor excuse of the Bears game last night and a November gray overcast this morning, and it defined funk.
That Bears game was so bad I went to bed early and even turned on WGN-AM and listened Milt Rosenberg, listening to his right-wing rantings (albeit with some actual intellectual support) was better than watching that Bears crash.
Funk, and I don't mean the music of James Brown, was the word that came to me this morning as the meathead and I stretched out the long ramble.
I was surprised, when back home, to find out how many meanings there were for funk in Merriam-Webster dictionary, well the online merriam-webster.com version.
There's even funk as a verb.
Relative lack of wildlife again this morning.
I heard Canada geese on the lake to the west. I heard but couldn't see the belted kingfisher on the northeast corner of the north old clay pit.
There was one startling difference this morning.
It was quiet. It took me a while to figure it out, then I realized the blowers at the grain elevator outside of town were not going for the first time in months.
Harvest is nearly complete.
Back in town, a nuthatch worried its way around a tree. I think worried is the right verb to describe how they move around a tree. We don't see many nuthatches, so it was a brightener this morning.
Near home, a gray squirrel hopped off and a black squirrel jumped between our neighbor's elms.
I need a little of James Brown's Get Up this morning to kick the ass of funk. Of course, I looked it up on YouTube.