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Ramble with Storm: Where the plows stop

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


The town snow plows stop just before the side rail before the town pond.

I like the symbolism of that.

By ``town pond,'' I mean an idea as much as physical place. I mean the general idea of the wild area beyond the side track, which includes two old clay pits, a ditch, an old rail bed now a trail, some grassy areas, the tractor-pull track, the yard/brush burning area and a couple side trails.

I was beginning to think the snow storm was going to track too far south. Then, about 5 p.m., it came and came hard.

Looks like we got about 4 inches of very heavy snow, though it was hard to tell with the drifts blown.

I have not yet seen the official snow report from the local cooperative reporter for the National Weather Service. I think it must be a farmer not too far from town, because his rain gauge reports are usually identical to mine.

Just a spectacularly beautiful morning. The wet snow hung beautifully on our dogwood, weighed down my wife's dead roses.

Robins and mourning doves were active on all sides.

Only heard a few red-winged blackbirds when I crossed over the side rail toward the town pond. Lots of smaller birds, which I could not positively identify, flew in and out of the snowy brush.

The pair of Canada geese were not on the nest this morning, but simply swimming around the island.

A wood duck exploded from just beside them on the north shore of the south pit.

The east trail was spectacularly beautiful in its own right with the heavy snow weighing down branches to make a sort of canopy as we walked through.

The abandoned ice shanty continues to float on the south shore of the south pit.

The meathead just loves this stuff. It appeals to his inner Lab. He ran around rooting his nose into the snow, I think mainly just the hell of it. Because he could.


Back in town, the plows are still working, but the alleys are still unplowed. No squirrels anywhere. Must be the sort of morning where they hunker down.

Once in a while, a fat flake drifted here and there.

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This page contains a single entry by Dale Bowman published on March 25, 2013 8:25 AM.

Radio Waves: Anaise Berry on the Illinois River Road National Scenic Byway was the previous entry in this blog.

Ramble with Storm: Walking into Light & Dust in the Wind (No!) is the next entry in this blog.

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