Ramble with the Lady: Boiler bits & the edge of winter, really
By Dale Bowman
Sometimes it boils down to the the promise is as good as the thing itself.
There was a promise of sun as Lady, the family's mutt, and I set out this morning. Sparrows and finches flitted around the feeders on the front porch.
I will take the promise of sun. I need some brightness.
The last few days I have been in a quagmire of trying to keep our home heated during below-0 temperatures after our boiler died Friday night.
The new boiler was in last evening. Still a few kinks to iron out, but the heat is back on.
So this morning I needed a full ramble.
A gray squirrel squirted around the trees behind the first-base dugout at the ball field on the edge of town. A blue jay squawked, loudly, a block away.
Even before we crossed the side rail separating the town from the wildness of the town pond, I could hear a woodpecker hamming away.
It was on the southwest corner of the north old clay pit. But I could not find it. All the same, there is something refreshing about a woodpecker hammering away on the morning landscape.
A couple new holes were on the clay pits for ice fishing. The ones in the middle of the north pit intrigue me. I have no idea why they are there. Unless the guys dropped some crappie sets there at some point last year.
I know the guys who do most of the ice fishing on the town pond and I will have to ask them and see if they will tell me. They may not.
Back in town, the chef/cook was just ready to leave with his food truck for migrant and nursery workers. My nose was too clogged to smell all the goodness.
Lady's nose was just fine. She celebrated in the full ramble, jumping in the air and flying around in 360-degree circles on much of the ramble.
There is something contagious about her excitement.
The bank thermometer had 20 degrees. I think my cell phone with 18 was closer to reality.
A gray squirrel hops around under the feeders on the front porch as I finish typing.
Life inevitably moves on. Hot or cold.
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