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Ramble with Storm: Drifting, rambling, crunching, remembering

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Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.

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I guess I shouldn't be as depressed as I am. We got a real snow, although it was half of what we expected.

We had maybe 2 inches. We were expecting more than 4. Apparently it changed to freezing rain and sleet at the height of the precipitation.

There was a thick, crunchy crust this morning on the snow.

Typing ``crusty snow'' reminds me of my days working landscaping before and during college. We would entertain ourselves by coming up with odd book titles: Easy Digging by Sandy Soil; Hard Digging by Rocky Soil. This morning we could have come up with Crusty Snow by I.C. Snow.

Landscaping was hard work. Cheap jokes made it go easier.

The meathead loved the crusty snow. I think it appealed to his inner Lab.

The ice was thick enough on some of the trees that they made an odd crinkly sound when a breeze caught them right.

I didn't expect much in terms of wildlife. And there wasn't.

One Canada goose flew over as we left town. And that was about it.

Even the pair of geese that had been swimming open a hole near the island on the south old clay pit were not around.

I saw one lone dove flying off near the feed mill on the edge of town as we returned. That was it for wildlife.

There were some mysteries to ponder.

The ice fishermen dragged their ice shanty back out yesterday on the ice cap on the south end of the south pit. They did it before the snow/sleet/freezing rain came.

The ice is not in very good condition. I didn't trust to walk on it. And the meathead even fell in at the rotten ice on the edge of the east bank.

I wonder how they will get it off, or maybe the ice cap itself is much stronger than the areas I tested.

Another mystery was a set of tracks, obviously made some time late last night or early this morning on the east side of the town pond, because they were made after the snow was crusted.

It was a lone set of tracks, big enough to be a man or older boy, heading back into town. The soles looked like something a male would wear.

I wondered if it was a kid sneaking off to the wild side to blow a J before school. Or was it a hobo or bum that had crashed in the thick brush next to the track tracks. A few times a year, a hobo does that.

I should stick with hobo. A good friend once took me to task for calling them a bum. Maybe drifter would be a better word.

So I looked up the definitions of hobo at merriam-webster.com. I think the second definition is the one most of know ``a homeless and usually penniless vagabond ''

Of course I looked up bum, too. I think the 1a definition is the main one most of us would think of: one who sponges off others and avoids work . Although the second definition as ``vagrant, tramp'' comes to mind, too.

And the definition of drifter: ``one that drifts; especially : one that travels or moves about aimlessly''

Well, I tended to think drifter might be most accurate.

Which made me look up rambler, too. It only said ``one that rambles'' among the main definition of the sense I meant.

I will stick with drifter.

We rambled back home, crunching all the way.



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This page contains a single entry by Dale Bowman published on February 22, 2013 9:05 AM.

WWW Chicago outdoor: Active participation to couch potato was the previous entry in this blog.

Ramble with Storm: Baseball broadcasts, graffiti art and beginnings/endings is the next entry in this blog.

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