Mulling things on my morning ramble,
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Our oldest boy, the 21-year-old, is home for a long weekend. He brought a sharp reminder that different ages have different times frames.
The meathead went into a barking frenzy about 1:30 a.m. last night. As I start to pad downstairs, I hear the lock quietly turning in the front door.
When I looked outside, I saw our oldest and two of his buds walking down the snowy street, just starting out for the night.
This morning at 4:45, as I was getting awake and waiting to listen to the 5 a.m. news on WGN-AM, I heard the lock on the front door turning quietly again. He was just getting home.
It gave a whole new meaning to ``It was time.''
Faithful readers will appreciate that.
Yet another round of light snow this morning. I would call it sparkling snow, you know the kind that glitters like diamonds in the moonlight or the light of a street light.
But the National Weather Service glossary has no entry for sparking snow.
With the temperatures in the low teens, it was a very dry snow, not slick at all. And frankly, to use unscientific terminology, pretty.
Pretty in White.
Yesterday, the middle of the south old clay pit was wide open. It was still wide open last evening when I went ice fishing on the south end of the south pit.
I finally figured out why that area opened up. It is right by the inflow-outflow pipe. And when we had the big rains and warm-up early last week, a bunch of warm water must have flowed in from the ditch to the east.
But this morning that open water was iced over and was covering with snow. That is why ice has been so dangerous this year. I know that was open just hours ago, but somebody who doesn't ramble around the town pond on a daily basis would have no idea, unless they were being obsessively careful.
Maybe obsessively careful is a good idea on ice at any rate.
I heard no geese this morning on the lake to the west. Yesterday when I was doing some running around, I checked and saw that the hole the Canada geese have been keeping up on that lake was nearly frozen shut.
Either the geese finally moved on or the cold is winning in making ice and freezing over the hole.
Only wildlife this morning was a lone dove that fluttered off loudly in the brush by the old rail bed, now a trail, above the south pit.
Again, the lightness of the morning struck me, a product of the snow cover. We were out on both sides of the dawn and it was relatively light the entire time, even with a thick overcast and light snow falling.
It a few minutes, I will take a perverse joy in rousting our oldest.
It will be time.