A pair of gray squirrels frolicked in the road behind the baseball backstop at the park on the edge of town.

And that is the right verb: Frolicked. Or at least it looked like that is what they were doing in the light snow this morning.

The scurried off when the meathead and I approached.

The snow fell heavy enough that it frosted Storm's back fur with an avant-garde look.

I didn't hear any Canada geese this morning from the lake to the west. I suspect the hole finally froze over. Yesterday when I passed the lake, it looked like it was nearly closed.

Winter advances.

But at least this morning was mild enough, near 20 degrees, despite the snow that we stretched out an extended ramble. Part of it was I just enjoy walking in snow. Think of it as frolicking for a guy my age.

Plus I needed to blow out both my head and my body after two intensive days with attending outdoors shows.

The homemade ice shanty will still in the same spot, so Storm and I scrambled down the bank, walked over to it. We must have close to 5 inches of ice, maybe more.

From a distance, it looked homemade. Up close, it even looked more homemade, but kind of cool with metal hinges latching plywood to a 2x4 wooden frame with a heavy blue tarp finishing it.

.

Inside, the ice fishermen had drilled three holes. They were old and frozen solid shut again.

After a quick look, we ambled across the ice by the island, a nice change of pace to walk on water, and climbed out the other side.

On the trail, made from an old rail bed, above the south end of the south old clay pit, a lone dove fluttered around on low limbs and the brush.

Just the one.

By the time we were back in town, the snow had slowed to a few flakes. But enough had fallen in half an hour to nearly cover our outgoing tracks.

On a flat calm morning with a light idyllic snow falling, three more gray squirrels flitted about the alley near home.

That kind of morning: Squirrelly and idyllic both.