Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
After nearly a week of gray or hazy mornings, it seemed so bright this morning as to be almost as bright as dawn with the near full moon still high in the western sky.
When the meathead and I set out around 6 a.m., it should have still been dark.
Far from it. Despite the brightness, a morning star was vivid slightly to the back side of the moon. From checking earthsky.org, I am pretty sure it is Jupiter.
With such bright light, I never expected to see a shooting star, but on the edge of town there was no mistaking a shooting star dropping in the northern sky.
That's something that I see rarely enough that I offered a prayer of thanks.
And it put enough spunk in me to step lively. And yes I can.
Frost coated the neighbor's windshield. A rabbit bolted off before we even left town.
After stealing chocolate candies from our big white Tupperware bowl of trick-or-treat candy and exacting a tax from the kids' loot last night, I needed the extended ramble this morning.
With the winds nearly calm and the sky nearly clear for the first time in a week, there was radiational cooling. It was cold enough far out on the extended ramble that I had to watch my step in the slickness of the heavily frosted grass and weeds.
Out on the edge, there was a light westerly breeze. The cackling of Canada geese on a nearby lake drifted on the breeze.
More rabbits bolted in the brush along the north old clay pit. For the first time in a week, the south old clay was nearly flat calm.
Otherwise, little wildlife.
Back in town, the aerobics class was again going early at the storefront gym and light spilled on the street.
Sometimes this time of the year, a building depression settles in for a long stay with the shortening days. This morning, I felt a lightness of heart with the well-lit sky.