Ramble with Storm: Mid-winter hump?Continue reading.
Ramble with Storm: Stolen toast, Bergman films & the narrowness of winter
Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
So I had two leftover pieces of toast in a plastic bread bag on top of the bread box. I was saving them for my McBowman ham & egg sandwich this morning.
Naturally the meathead, that sonofabitch, reached up last night, then ate them while I was gone, even most of the plastic.
Kept expecting to see remnants of the plastic this morning.
Otherwise, I didn’t expect to see much. And I didn’t.
We are in winter, that time of narrowing of the senses.
Naturally, my thoughts drift to Bergman films. That’s Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, not the the glowing Ingrid Bergman. Though any morning that begins with thoughts of Ingrid Bergman is a good morning.
There’s something in the bleakness of the winter landscape that makes me think of the starkness of Bergman films.
I am of the age that most liberal arts/English major sorts like myself felt obligated to learn Bergman films.
Don’t know why, but I wondered what liberal arts/English major sorts of this era watch. Quentin Tarantino? Or some of the Japanese filmmakers? Or films influenced by them?
The three arty-farty teens crashed on the floor of our living room suggested Tokyo!, a 2008 triptych of shorts.
Amazing what a cloud cover will do to night temperatures in winter; 23 this morning, compared to -1 yesterday morning.
There wasn’t much in wildlife. Just heard the Canada geese again on the lake to the west. They must still be swimming a small patch swam open.
I saw another hole in the ice, surprisingly on the north old clay pit. I drilled the first hole in the ice on Monday and had not seen any signs of anybody else trying since.
Now I was curious why another ice fisherman drilled there, most of us tend to ice fish in the south pit.
My hole from Monday was still there, but now frozen with something like 4 inches of ice.
While I was looking at the hole and Storm was enjoying playing on the ice, I heard a woodpecker.
I didn’t expect to find it, but I flipped down my two hoods and could hear it. Finally, I spotted the little downy woodpecker.
I was kind of proud of that, finding it by following the sound, even with my bad eyes.
Speaking of following the sound, for some reason it was a short drive for my brain from Ingrid Bergman to Lauren Bacall and the whistle.
Oh, I looked it up.
“Just put your lips together and blow.”