Ramble with Storm: Disorder of nature, Tom Skilling & John Fogerty

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Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.

I checked rainfall totals this morning, because the variability of that always fascinates me. Try explaining the variability of the map from the National Weather Service.

Yes, I am a weather geek and a faithful follower of brother Tom Skilling.

We had .4 inches according to the rain gauge in my vegetable garden. But knew other areas had more. And I was right. There was even a small area that totaled more than an inch not too far away.

Now, maybe there is an explanation based on topography or maybe the wind and temperature impacts from Lake Michigan, even well inland. I think it is more likely that sweet Mother Nature is comfortable with disorder.

The ramble is along edges. In town, those edges are largely straight line edges, orderly things along the edge of the sidewalk or edge of the road or alley.

Out in the wilds of the town pond, there’s an edge between grass and weeds, shore and water, brush and trees. Those edges are anything but straight.

These things roll around my head on morning rambles.

So, to trot out what i consider my wit, our house must generally be in a natural state.

A black squirrel crossed the street as we set out.

A rabbit crossed the alley by the bus barn. It sat in the grass close enough i tried to get a photo, but the meathead didn’t hold his sit command and there went the meathead, and there went the rabbit and there went my photo op.

Canada geese crossed the road to the ball field. I could not resist stopping to photograph the line of one family in front of the scoreboard. Again, one family was clustered in short rightfield behind first base. Another family was clustered in short center, just on the grass behind second.

Those two spots are their favored ones.

The scene always draws me to hearing John Fogerty’s “Centerfield” in my head.

“Put me in coach . . . Centerfield.”

In my head, the lyrics are eternally truncated to that condensed version of the chorus.

I tend to think the song is banal rubbish, then sometimes I think there is more there than just the surface.

A goldfinch crossed the road back to the town pond as we crossed the side rail. That gave me hope of seeing more on the extended ramble. But it was not to be.

A rabbit squirted into the weed edges as we started the extended ramble. The huge thistles still look days away from blooming. I don’t know what is taking so blooming long.

Blackberries are ripening. But maybe i jumped the gun on them being peak. Might be another day or two.

Back in town, a rabbit crossed the alley and into the woodworker’s lawn. A few feet more and a tiny baby rabbit squirted into the protection of the blue spruces.


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