Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
A lone dove flew off by the rail tracks before the town pond, on yet another gray morning. Mourning doves continue to dominate the hints of spring's arrival.
A few Canada geese, nothing like the usual ruckus, cackled on the lake to the west.
A few red-winged blackbirds trilled along the town pond. Not a lot, but enough to notice.
Relatively balmy morning in the mid-20s. I was comfortable enough to only do three layers.
The snow appealed to Storm's inner Lab. He galloped around like a colt loosed in a pasture for the first time.
The ice fishermen I think have finally conceded ice fishing for the year. They had the ice shanty collapsed down to a sled, then pulled it to shore in the brush.
I believe that might be a smart move. The ice, even the ice cap on the south end of the south old clay pit, was iffy.
On the edge of town, a particularly interesting piece of graffiti art caught on my eye on the side of a box car.
Mourning doves and gray squirrels scattered from around the bird seed one neighbor had spread in his front lawn.
A black squirrel, a gray squirrel and a lone dove scattered from below our bird feeder on the front porch as the meathead and I came up the steps.
Radio broadcasts of both the Sox and the North Side team start today. I don't find spring training games particularly riveting radio.
But I recognize their start as another sign of the coming change.