Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I don't know why, but I find incredible comfort in seeing the florescent orange deer hunting clothes hanging out on the line. They have been airing for the last couple of days.
It's that time of the year.
The second firearm deer season begins today in Illinois. I hope to get out again this weekend, or maybe Friday.
It's also time of the year for other things.
Last night, after youth group, I piled the frozen remains of Thanksgiving weekend--the turkey carcass, the bones left over from the one night of a KFC treat, leftover vegetable leavings--into hot water in the stock pot, then chopped in an onion, a big carrot and a bunch of celery tops.
And boiled a huge pot of turkey stock.
I find incredible comfort in that, too.
But this morning, after I skimmed the fat off, I wondered if I could set it outside to cool on the porch table. Or would feral cats or free-ranging house cats--those most evil destroyers of wildlife--bang it around?
I don't think squirrels would be interested, and I have not seen raccoons in a long time.
A stunningly beautiful fall morning. The full moon was going down in the western sky, but was still a huge ball of yellow light.
With the brightness of the full moon last night--I even pulled the trick of driving down a country road with the headlights off until my wife yelled at me--I did not expect to see much wildlife.
And I was right.
Only a few songbirds I could not ID in the brush by the town pond.
Back in town, finally a pair of Canada geese flew over.
That was it.
Back home, I took the stock pot out to the table on the porch. When it is cool, I will freeze many bags of it, shoring up against the winter.