Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
As the meathead and I neared the ball field, a woodpecker hammered away so high in the sky I tilted my head back awkwardly.
Then I realized it was coming from the top of a long wooden pole used to hold the light stands for night ball games.
I wondered if there actually be some insect in larvae inside a very old light pole or was the woodpecker an idiot.
I lean toward the woodpecker being an idiot.
Robins were everywhere this morning on the rapidly greening fields and lawns. It is amazing what a 2-inch gully-washer in April will do to vegetation in just 24 hours.
Some lawns are close to the point of needing to be mowed.
At least for me that was a natural bridge to remembering my push reel mower needed its blades sharpened.
And that's when I climbed up on my high horse. And rode it hard.
One of the great idiocies in American society is our overall obsession with specialized with a narrow spectrum of plants. And with an obsession on using gasoline or electric power to keep them obsessively mowed.
So I use it both for the high moral or ethical ground of using muscle power to mow our lawn and because it gives me exercise.
Naturally enough, I looked up high horse in urbandictionary.com.
The lead definition fits me perfectly on this:
Arrogantly believing oneself superior to others, often by putting down large groups of people. In usage, such a person is described as "on a high horse" or may be told to "Get off your high horse."
Get off your high horse; you aren't as smart as you think you are.
My wife would say that perfectly nails me too often.
But I digress.
As usual, cooing of mourning doves on all sides; but I heard less trilling of red-winged blackbirds than usual. Not sure why, maybe because of the chill this morning.
Nine American coots swam in a clump on the north end of the north old clay pit.
A Canada goose lollygagged on the gravel road to the bridge over the neckdown between the two old pits. It finally aggravated Storm enough that he charged. That reminded me of a story about Canada geese and Labs, which the woman who trains Labs in town told me one time. Story for another day.
Two great blue herons flapped awkwardly (at least it looked awkwardly to me) from the south end of the south pit. Two wood ducks swam on the south pit. I heard another one take off from the ditch to the east.
A Canada goose sat on the nest on the island on the south pit. Another goose swam in the south pit.
As we neared our front steps, a stumpy-tailed gray squirrel, well one trending toward being a black squirrel, loped off.