Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Timing is everything on the morning rambles, like much of life.
Because we are in the week of the shortest days of the year, the rambles start in total darkness. And, usually, even on the two-mile extended rambles, we are finishing up well before the time of official dawn.
That explains why I have rarely seen Canada geese flying in recent weeks. Once again, I heard them cackling on the lake to the west. But none flew.
What did fly was a pair of great blue herons. I had not seen a heron around the town pond in weeks.
They were hard to miss with their squawking flight to the north side of the north old clay pit.
Another rarity in recent weeks--the V of a muskrat swimming--came on the south pit.
I was beginning to think I would not see or hear the belted kingfisher, something that has been around almost every day for weeks, but then I heard its rattling call as the meathead and I started out on the rail bed now a trail above the town pond.
On the edge of town, it was a sharp return to civilization.
The railroad guys were gathering for their 7 a.m. start at the gravel lot on the edge of town.
Today there was a huge pile of stone and the equipment to handle.
It was the kind of equipment--three big payloaders, one crane shovel (what used to be called steam shovel), a small payloader--that would have given an old stone quarry guy like my dad wet dreams.
As a country, we really should be thinking about restoring rail lines to the glory days to reduce our dependence on automobiles.
That's a topic for another ramble.