Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, our family’s mixed Lab.
There they were, holes in the ice.
Well, old holes, now snow covered, in the near shore ice on the south end of the north old clay pit.
It’s been the coldest start to winter since we moved here. And the town pond shows it.
So the first ice fisherman must have been out yesterday testing the ice and fishing. I did not notice any signs of fish flopped on the ice.
I noticed he had drilled holes on the break line, which is just off the shore. He did not try out in the middle of the north pit and on the south pit, both of which have iffier ice, especially under a snow cover.
As the photo shows, the meathead was quite fascinated by the scent of the holes. I should probably think about getting out and trying some holes of my own.
A light snow fell gently as we took off.
But the light snow was heavy enough to blur the lines between land, water (hard) and gray sky. Only the tree line on the shores gave definition.
It struck me that is much like the experiences of life, the lines blur.
A few Canada geese honked on the lake to the west as we stretched out an extended ramble. Considering the forecast, I do not think we will be doing an extended ramble into the wind tomorrow, so I pushed an extended ramble out this morning. Tomorrow will be a much abbreviated ramble, maybe even more of a short walk.
There were tracks everywhere, as there should be with the remnants of the snow from Sunday night and a building coating of snow this morning. Rabbits tracks so thick in some areas it made it look like the cottontail version of Diversey and Clark.
There were tracks of mice, voles (at least I think voles), squirrels and feral or free-ranging cats, those slaughtering machines.
About eight mourning doves fluttered off the line of Osage orange trees on the east side of the south old clay pit. That was a surprise. But more fluttered off on the south end of the south pit.
Back on the edge of town, a couple more doves fluttered off from the grit area (snow-covered) by the grain elevators.
I heard, but couldn’t see, another dove fluttering off from the decorative fruit trees a street over.
It was as if the gray sky and light snow had pushed the doves here. Maybe the snow forced the over-wintering doves into town, seeking food at feeders. Though I have not seen any at our feeders in weeks.
A grown neighbor woman, a mother, drove her compact car out of the alley, then goosed it to fishtail on the street. Either she was playing in the snow or trying to determine just how slick it was this morning.
I hope she was playing. Playing in the snow is a good thing.