By Dale Bowman
You know how things can just gnaw at you? One of those mornings. Another round of snow overnight. It was slightly more than a dusting. I would estimate it at about .2 inches.
It is just starting to get old.
But there is hope. I found the snow line yesterday when I drove to Springfield to the IDNR office building. The snow line is around the middle of Iroquois County. I do not expect it to retreat much farther north any time soon.
I thought the National Weather Service's glossary might have an official definition for snow line, but I could not find one.
Despite how cold it was this morning, considering the forecast the next few days, I figured Lady, our family's mutt, and I better stretch out a full ramble. But walking into the west wind by the ball field almost changed my mind.
But I endeavored to persevere (Hello Chief Dan George and ``The Outlaw Josey Wales'') and pushed out to cross the side the side rail separating town from the wildness of the town pond.
Cold enough that I forced myself to try to breath through my nose. I hate having to do that. I am a mouth breather.
Cold enough that not a single track other than ours was anywhere in the snow, in town or out.
Cold enought that I did not see any new signs of ice fishermen on either old clay pit.
Coming out of the wilds around the town pond, I saw the first wildlife of the morning: two dozen barn pigeons (rock doves) wheeled by the grain elevators on the edge of town.
And that produced my photo at the top. Naturally, I went to ``High Sky,'' by Arc Tyk-High. (And hello, Charles Demuth.)
Downtown, the chef/cook who runs the food truck for migrant and nursery workers was still loading his truck. I pity those who have to work outside today.
A handful of sparrows scattered from the snow as we came up the steps.
My thermometer behind our garage read 2 degrees. Worse to come.
Just what I need.