Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
Seeing the water ripples, as the meathead and I approached the bridge over the neckdown between the two old clay pits, made me look closer.
Lots of round brown circles were strung all along the shoreline, and a bluegill dotted the circle of each bed.
As a fisherman, I was disappointed to see mostly small bluegill on the beds. All the same, a nice touch for the morning.
After our cold spring, it felt odd to think, “Hey, it’s kind of nice to have a a morning where the ramble didn’t feel like an expedition to a sauna.”
And to top it off, I heard the first bullfrog of the spring. Then a few steps another one, and another one.
It seems late for the first bullfrog, but maybe I just haven’t been out enough or listening close enough. Although my gut says to credit or blame the coldness of April and May.
As I type, I realize it has been far too long since a Ramble with Storm. May 10? You have to be kidding.
But it will be like that for the next month or so as I finish up a book.
Picked a wildflower for my wife. It seemed like a good idea, and the blue made me happy.
Mulberries come soon.
