Mulling things on my morning ramble with Lady, our family's mutt.
Think about it, we may be coming off the biggest storm of the winter, but the reality is that we are six weeks toward spring after the nadir in late December. At the least the nadir for sunlight.
From merriam-webster.com comes this definition of nadir:
1: the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and vertically downward from the observer
2: the lowest point
Nadir, kind of proud of slinging that word around. And I think it is particularly apt in this case.
Yesterday, I noted the impact of the sun being much higher in the sky. I had to drive a few towns away. When I left in the morning, the connecting road was mainly packed snow and patches of thick ice. By the time I came home in the early afternoon, the road was mostly ice and snow free.
Of course, a couple refreshing inches are forecast to arrive shortly.
First morning I pushed myself and Lady to a full ramble in days. And it was work with all the snow still around.
Of course I went back to my landscaping days in high school and college and came up with ``Slow Walking,'' by Dee Epp-Snow.
A mourning dove hung in a low tree on the corner a block over as we set out. The passing of Lady and myself did nothing to move it out of the tree.
The thawing in the daytime made for some stunning icicles by the bus barn.
No plowing was done around the town pond, but there were plenty of tracks packed down by various vehicles. There was a road plowed to the far back where the town's pile for yard refuse is mounted.
In the last two days, since the storm, ice fishermen have been all over both old clay pits. I did not see any fish on the ice. But I also do not like walking on sloppy snow, or sloppy snow that refroze, so I did not check their new holes. But there were new holes in some good spots.
On the east side of the south pit, Lady went into her usual bout of leaping high in the air and doing complete 360s. Quite a few times. It just makes me smile.
Quads and at least one snowmobile have been running around the east side of the south pit.
Back on the edge of town, the pile of rails in the snow caught my eye. (Hello, Charles Demuth.) As I was taking the photo, I noticed that the rabbit tracks were so precise that you could see the imprint of the toenails.
Downtown, the bank thermometer read 29 degrees. Sounded close to right. I had worked up a sweat with the slog through the deep snow.
As we neared home, a gray squirrel bolted across the street by our neighbor's behind our back yard. It went up the same tree where the dove sat in this morning when we set out.
All, the circle of life, or at least the circular path a good Ramble.