Bonnie Raitt & snow: Ramble with the Lady

February 16, 2016

I made it home from Stray Casts practice last night in time to catch the end of the Grammys, notably in time for the tribute to the late great B.B.King with Chris Stapleton, Gary Clark and Bonnie Raitt.

 

Ah, Bonnie Raitt.

 She is the closest I will come to fawning over a celebrity.

 

She has staying power. She has a voice that grinds along with the promise of real life and love. And she plays that slide guitar, Lord, does she play it.

 

I saw her live when we both were kids, relatively speaking, in early 1978. An old girlfriend and I were just a few rows off the stage at James Madison in Harrisonburg, Va. 

 

My God she was just a fireball of energy on stage. Of course, she was probably only about 20 then.

 

I have not been a fireball of energy the last week or so. Stuff is packed with my regular outdoors work, then working in covering sectionals for Beat the Champs and doing many nights for getting Stray Casts off the ground for live streaming on Wednesdays, beginning Feb. 24.

 

White and gray landscape as Lady, our family's mutt, and I rambled off this morning. White of rare snow this winter, gray of an overcast sky.

 

The first call of a cardinal brightened the morning to the west as we passed the ball field on the edge of town. Then another cardinal called as we crossed the tracks

separating the town from the wildness of the town pond.

 

A rare snow cover this morning, so I made sure to take a photo on the edge of the town pond, just to document that rarity in this El Nino winter.

 

It was a rare full ramble this morning, too.

 

Too much cold over the weekend and too much doings that I had to get to, so Lady loved stretching it out and she enjoyed it to her doggy fullness.

 

I only saw one ice fishing hole, off a point, on the snow-covered south old clay pit. None on the north pit.

 

Coming out of the wilds around the town pond, we listened and watched six mourning doves whistle-flutter out of the brush by the side rail.

 

Back downtown, the cook/chef, who fills a food truck for migrant and nursery workers, was just pulling out. The wonderful comfort food smell of fillings for burritos and tacos lingered in the still gray air.

 

Work is good.

 

And that takes me back to the Grammys.

 

We have a teenage daughter. I hear more Taylor Swift than any grown man should have to hear.

 

But I will say what, in her acceptance speech for Record of the Year, she laid it out how the focus should be on the work for young girls and to not let the tangential stuff sidetrack them from what is at hand.

 

Hell, that focus on work is good advice all around.

 

May that hold true, even for us guys as we get Stray Casts going.

 

Nothing was at the feeders across from the bus barns. Unusual, because, for the last week or so, there have been several Eurasian collared-doves hanging out there.

 

Maybe, a hawk was around--always the haters--and I did not see it.

 

A lone blue jay, shockingly silent, alit in the neighbor's big old elm, then flew off, again shockingly silent, as we walked under it.

 

A dozen or so sparrows and finches hightailed it off our front porch below the feeders as Lady and I crunched up the front steps.

 

Back to work.

 

 

 

 

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