A crow labored into the wind.
And I mean labored. It was flying west across the north old clay pit. As Lady, our family's mutt, and I crossed the side rail separating town from the wildness of the town pond, I spotted the lone crow and figured I could have walked faster to the western shore than it would get there flying.
Crows are rare enough on our morning rambles that I notice when I see a couple. What I find odd about the rarity of crows is that we only live an hour or so north, yes, as the crow flies (forgive me), of the great roost in Danville.
Crows lead naturally, at least for me to Ted Hughes epic collection ``Crow.''
Let's take a taste from the opening graph of ``Crow Blacker Than Ever,'' via thebeckoning.com:
When God, disgusted with man,
Turned towards heaven,
And man, disgusted with God,
Turned towards Eve,
Things looked like falling apart.
Yes, Hughes writes from a man's viewpoint.
Wind made things look like falling apart this morning. The wind littered the ground with sticks, but not as many bigger branches as I had expected with winds reaching 50 mph
Wind this morning took me to a natural place for me. At least for me, it is a natural place, Ezra Pound's ``Ancient Music,'' via poemhunter.com (which has an audio of it). Here is the opening graph:
Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
While I was looking at the crow, I noticed either a gull or a tern floating into the wind, then turning (terning?, oh forgive me again) and doing a speed dive.
I tried to get a good photo to get a better ID from some birding friends, because it looked different than the occasional gulls. For the life of me, I could not get a quality photo.
Not being able to get a good photo was, well, yes, galling (again, I beg forgivenness).
With the wind, not much moving this morning. I expect squirrels will literally be holed up until it calms a bit tomorrow.
Back on the edge of town, I thought the dark and grayish hues of the sky, grain elevators and tanker cars on the side rail captured the essence of the morning. (Hello, Charles Demuth.)
As I turned downtown, the wind slammed around the metal railroad crossing sign, metallic clang on metallic clang.
As I turned the corner by the town hall dowtown, the south-southwest winds sucked the breath out of me.
That was this morning, a breath-sucking wind.
Back home, the wind slammed the neighbor's metal screen door back and forth, metallic bang on metallic bang.