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Ramble with Storm: A state of mind

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stormtight.jpg Mulling things on my morning ramble

with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.

The morning rambles with the meathead are a state of mind as much as anything.

At their best, the rambles are a chance for me to step back from the everyday world and fall into more natural rhythms.

The past couple weeks that's been tough. Between some time-intensive travel and the kids finishing school, setting up a different morning routine, I find myself often setting out on the ramble distracted.

I have sometimes ended up at the town pond and realize I have no idea if any mourning doves had been cooing in town or robins hopping around yards.

Because of the different routine and the kids and my wife getting up later, I find myself working into the morning, sometimes until 7:30 or so, before rambling off.

That's no major problem, just a disruption of the routine. Part of the appeal of the ramble for me is the idea of walking the edge between night and day. This time of the year, 7:30 is far from the edge of night and day.

That is daytime this time of year.

That showed this morning. The two women who walk intensely to exercise were out ahead of me. They walk and talk. I think it is a good routine for them.

I am more of a loner.

An old guy, who is a pretty good fishermen (meaning he actually fishes spots other than by the parking lots and the bridge over the neckdown between the two old clay pits), was coming back from the town pond on his golf cart.

I asked if he did good. He shook his head no. I am not sure if he was telling me the truth or going old-school fisherman on me.

I find it hard to believe he didn't do well. They kids and I had landed a pile of bluegill and redear in less than an hour Monday and saw some largemouth bass in the 5-pound range up on beds.

No sign of Canada geese on either pit.

A gray squirrel loped off along the east side of the south pit. A rabbit bolted from the lone remaining permanent grill at the town pond.

Honeysuckle nears the end of flowering while raspberries and blackberries push the outer limits.

My wife's climbing rose is so lush, with wickedly huge red blossoms and branches thick with foliage, that we spooked a dove picking spilled grain under it was we came up the front steps.

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This page contains a single entry by Dale Bowman published on June 5, 2013 8:44 AM.

Midwest Fishing Report: Rivers around Chicago fishing was the previous entry in this blog.

Fish of the Week: Flathead from the Fox is the next entry in this blog.

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