Mulling things on my morning ramble,
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Sometimes the parts of my life dovetail, so to speak.
I do Beat the Champs for the Sun-Times. It's the great charity bowling event that has been going for 52 years.
This morning, I was setting up the agate (the fine print scores) for today's big sectional at Dolton Bowl. It's Section 4/Will County and will have something like 250 bowlers. So getting a headstart is a good idea.
All of a sudden, I realized I had been working so long that it was light outside. So the meathead and I set out.
As we crossed the tracks toward the town pond, three mourning doves picked grit from the gravel road. That was the most doves I had seen in a couple months.
Canada geese honked on the lake to the west. Yesterday, I saw they had about half the lake open.
I was surprised, on a morning in the teens, to find the north end of the south old clay pit wide open. The open water extended under the bridge over the neckdown into the south end of the north pit.
But I could walk on the ice cap on the south end of south pit. Maybe the ice fishermen who left their ice shanty waiting by the old boat launch know what they are doing.
They will get one more crack at ice fishing this weekend.
A lone dove cooed from the top of a tree by the launch.
Back in town, I heard another dove calling, but couldn't pick it out. Two doves flew off my neighbor's house. Another cooed down the alley.
No, I can't explain the most doves in something like three months, other than setting out later than usual. Thanks to bowling.
Just when I was beginning to wonder where all the squirrels went, I saw two gray squirrels and a black squirrel running around our neighbor's maple.
Down the street, something like four gray squirrels ran up, around and between a line of elms.
Change is coming, no matter what the starkly blue, high sky signifies of winter's hold.