Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
A lone dove flew out of an old elm near the ball park. The influx of mourning doves has been the story of the past week.
All right, I'll admit that I like the phrase ``lone dove'' because it reminds me of Larry McMurty's Pulitzer-Prize winning, ``Lonesome Dove.''
I loved that book, there was true humanity written into it; an understanding of how human relationships actually function.
More lone doves this morning.
Another one was picking grit before the bridge over the neckdown between the two old clay pits. Another flew off near the feed mill on the edge of town. Yet, another one flew down an alley near home.
Doves and Canada geese I should say.
The Canada geese raised a serious ruckus on the lake to the west.
Yesterday, a pair of geese--I assume the ones that will shortly be nesting on the island--swam by the island on the south pit. That's the photo above.
This morning the open water had skimmed over with ice, but they had a hole swam open near the island. That's the photo below.
I bet by next week they will be nesting. Maybe by this weekend.
The ice fishermen still have their ice shanty pulled up by the old boat launch. They might have one last shot at ice fishing. The ice cap on the south end of the south pit was walkable, barely, this morning.
We are on an edge.
Apparently, we are on an edge when it comes to the incoming winter storm, too.
Two gray squirrels scattered from under our neighbor's bird feeder as we neared home.
Theme for the morning, gray, and waiting on the winter's big snow.
Change comes, no matter what.