Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
What is the proper attire for a young man on a wintry May morning like this?
(Keep your quibbles over my definitions of young man and wintry to yourself.)
For me, I dressed in as confusing a manner as the weather itself. I wore jean shorts but covered up with a black stocking cap, a hood coat and an insulated vest.
One of those kind of mornings.
It didn't seem to bother the wildlife. Storm chased a gray squirrel up a telephone pole as we set out.
Baby mourning doves were all over a neighbor's feeding station. They flew so awkwardly I thought I could probably out run them and pluck them from the sky.
Robins dug in the damp cool earth on all sides.
But the town pond was rather quiet. No goslings or adult Canada geese swam on either old clay pit that I saw this morning. But I was also distracted by stories I was trying to crank out this morning, so maybe I missed them.
The word ``bedraggled'' popped into my head as I looked at the honeysuckle.
I wondered how old it was. According to merriam-webster.com, the first known usage was 1727,
On the other hand, honeysuckle at this stage is quite pungent, almost overwhelming with a sickly sweetness.
Down an alley near home, Storm lifted his head and sniffed quizzically. I tried to follow the trajectory of his nose to find out what he sensed, but saw nothing unusual.
There is no explaining some things.