• Dale Bowman

Calvary at dawn & seeing breath: Ramble with the Lady

At least for me, it is easy to go from seeing my breath for the first time in months to seeing Calvary in the tilted poles for electric lines at dawn on the edge of town.

That's right, I could easily see my breath this morning. The inevitable death march of the seasons is on.

Fall brings me easily to staring into the abyss of theology. Why is Calvary so necessarily central to Christianity. It just never felt right. And I wonder what the modern equivalent would be to Calvary.

I digress. But it is fall and my mind wanders and I tend to peer over the edge.

Officially we were at 42 degrees when Lady, our family's mutt, and I set off in the darkness before dawn. Frost coming Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Surprisingly, maybe because of the flat calm for the first time in days, I could hear many birds. A robin called from the trees and brush west on the side rail separating the town from the wildness of the town pond.

A great blue heron squawked off the north old clay pit. For the first time in weeks, I heard a red-winged blackbird trilling on the north side of the north pit.

Dawn streaked red on clouds on the horizon through the trees on the east side of the south pit.

Back on the edge of town, 14 vehicles of gandy dancers were parked by the grit area.

A stunning sunrise came as I reached Station Street and looked east. A couple drivers gave me a quizzical eye as I tried to step into the middle of the street to capture the scene.

I call it "My Calvary." I was surprised when I Googled "My Calvary" and could not find any noted artwork by that name.

In my world, fall and Calvary go together.

Again, I digress, but it is a digression I do not mind pondering. Or would that be mulling?

Downtown, the chef/cook who runs a food truck for migrant and nursery workers, had already loaded his food truck. And I could not smell any of the comfort-food smells of taco and burrito fillings cooking.

No squirrels, no rabbits anywhere on the ramble this morning.

Cold settles in enough that my fingers had stiffened by the time we reached home and I wished I had worn gloves.

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