The Forecast

Rain, then snow, then falling temps. An early morning walk, a scramble really, in the deep woods, because the driveway and the logging roads, and the newly cleared power easement, are all quagmires of the ninth degree. I figure southern Ohio is epicenter of the freeze/thaw cycle. With all the ash and dust, pieces of bark, dormant and dead bugs, added to the crap I track in on my boots, and the leaves that attach themselves to anything, my house most resembles a library that has suffered budgetary cut-backs and has fired the janitor. On the walk I was looking at things that still seemed to be alive; at one point I fell into a tangle of green briar, the vines of which actually held me two feet off the ground. I always carry clippers, in one of the outside tool-pockets of my Carhartts, and it took me fifteen minutes to cut my way out. I had to laugh that this little adventure qualified as amusement for me. Don't know where I fall on the projected line for a foot of snow forecast starting tonight. Just after noon a wave of sleet passes through (defined here as small pieces of ice, like rain, that fall when the ground temps are above freezing). The nucleus of each specific particle of sleet is a dust mote. This is true for hail and snowflakes too. Puts dust in a different perspective. Nature mimics nature, the inorganic mimics the organic. I wanted to get out, over to the Lodge in the State Forest, where Drew was reading, but there is no way I would chance the driveway. Imagine a layer of ice, then imagine a layer an inch deep on top of that which is composed of clay and water. A sled run for the mud Olympics. An older dog shows up, a lovely Blue Tick hound, I call it over to the door and wipe it down with an old towel. I love hounds. I fed it corn bread and bacon fat. She had a good set of tags and I called the owner. He was so happy to hear from me, that his dog was safe, and he'd drive right over. I told him he couldn't drive his truck up the driveway and he understood immediately, said he'd bring a four-wheeler. A nice old guy, Simon, and the dog is Abby and they're very happy to see each other. He slipped me twenty dollars. Job well done. The cool thing was that I got to spend an hour with a very well-behaved dog. Blue Ticks and Red Bones are smart, and they're beautiful, that marriage of form and function. And she smelled so like a drying dog. All together an 'exterior experience' because it wasn't anything I'd planned or imagined. The real world is tough, but it has it's moments.