Here's the generational difference. Last night our second son was looking for a coconut for a music appreciation project. He ended up driving to two stores in two different towns, maybe seven miles of city driving apart.
And he said Google Maps led him around wrong. He finally figured it out and found the grocery that had his coconut.
That's when it hit me just how much different we are in finding places, but also how much we are alike in just liking to drive and find places.
The difference is that I would have looked at the sky, then put the setting sun over my left shoulder and driven north until I hit a street I remembered by the other grocery.
He went to his iPhone and Google Maps.
If it had been night, I would have found the Dippers and headed that way or put Orion at my back. If it was night and cloudy, I would've figure east or south winds and adjusted.
Either way, we both enjoy driving into the Great American Landscape. I am glad he is like that too.
Heavy fog as Lady, our family's mutt, and I rambled off this morning. I noticed how much buds on many trees exploded in the past few days.
Buds. I say that word and my head goes to pot.
No, I am not a pothead, not my style.
But I find the rules we have on marijuana just absurd. Colorado is so much smarter in how they handle it.
I had to laugh when two retired couples told me how much fun they had going in to buy some when they were in Colorado. I am talking people in the 60s or early 70s.
Last month, a friend, who does like to smoke, brought along legal pot with him from Colorado. It was quite interesting to look at how professionally/commerically the pot is presented and sold.
God, Illinois could use that income in a major way. And the savings it would give us on people jailed senselessly.
My mind does wander this morning.
In the fog, the cooing of mourning doves sounded different, but came from all sides. Robins, in the dampness this morning and after the rain yesterday, hopped around any grassy area with their heads cocked listening for worms and crawlers.
I have had quite a haul of picking night crawlers and earthworms this week on our morning rambles. We are set for our first few family fishing trips on the town pond or elsewhere.
As we crossed the side rail separting the town from the wildness of the town pond, I could hear the usual trilling of redwing blackbirds around the north old clay pit.
That pit has had quite a change. Somebody, I am assuming town workers, cleared much of the south bank, both burning and cutting. Then cut a path down to the shore and installed a small dock.
Quite the thing.
Ten ducks, small compact bodied ducks, swam off in the north pit. In the fog, I could not ID them. They sort of looked like bluebills, but that seems highly unlikely.
All the hubbub of installing the dock has not altered the two nesting goose pairs I know where they are nesting. They were still sitting on the nest.
Back in town, the chef/cook who drives a food truck for nursery and migrant workers, was wheeling out steel pans of chicken. Lord, it smelled and looked tremendous.
As we circled around his truck, he said to stop in some time and they would make us some food. I think I will take him up on that.
Back home, as doves lifted off on several sides, I realized how the heavy moisture of the fog altered the sound of their wings. It took away the whistle of dove wings.
Learning never ends, in the outdoors or in technology.
It's what keeps us alive.