Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
As we started, Storm flushed a rabbit from under a neighbor's maple. It lollygagged enough into another lawn that the meathead gave chase.
That spooked a gray squirrel from a red maple. The squirrel squirted down the tree, then veered in another direction from the rabbit.
With all that commotion, a blue jay decided to add to it and began squawking in the top a bur oak.
It was that kind of morning.
I would call it the first one that truly felt like spring. Not just the temperature, moderate enough around 50 degrees, but the smell of the air.
The sounds: beyond the blue jay, there was the usual cooing of mourning doves on all sides and the sounds of robins on lawns and trees this fine morning.
Some of it was just a feel. Even though I was out relatively early, the sun was already well up.
The lawns and ball fields were a green so surreal it was as if a Bucktown artiest was drawing from psychedelic memories from his or her college days in the '60s or '70s.
I digress in analogy.
Red-winged blackbirds trilled thickly around the north old clay pit. A great egret was on the far north end. Two Canada geese floated separately on the south pit, as did a grebe.
Still no goslings. Figure that one.
Back in town, I heard the call of a red-headed woodpecker, but could not find it.
As we neared home, a gray squirrel, the same one as earlier I assume, climbed around the a red maple.
A spring morning to savor.