The Coyote

Nature is a terrific teacher.  Two weeks ago when I last came home, early on Sunday morning I looked out and saw a beautiful coyote hunting for breakfast.  It was a lonely sight but a lesson in how hard life is on our natural environment and the creatures who inhabit our world.  The coyote criss-crossed the yard, stopping occasionally to listen for potential prey below the snow.  Then wandered off into the neighboring woods.  It was a very chilly morning.

Later that same day I was amazed to see the coyote return.  He or she kept retracting the area looking for small creatures to fill his/her tummy.  Nature requires persistence.  How often do we forget that lesson in our daily lives.   As a sometime participant in longer distance running, I appreciate what it takes to frequently go out, even when you may not feel like it, to try and achieve your goals.  I wish the coyote best of luck.  The winter isn't over and hunger can be a great motivator.

The race is not always to the swift, but to those who keep on running. ~Author unknown, in reference to Ecclesiastes 9:11, "I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all."

 

The Vortex

I've spoken frequently of "The Vortex" and today I snapped a few photos to post and share with you, dear reader. Unfortunately, the "system" just isn't willing to connect with the full file. I am positing this as a start.

Super Bowl

Perhaps it isn't fair that my all time favorite football team is going to play the final game of professional football for this season and I remain in the "cone of silence" where TV waves pass over and cannot be captured by an antenna.  I have asked about locations where one might watch said game, and have been told to arrive early.  That isn't going to happen.

Snow still captured in the winter vegetation, but there is a promise of 40 degree temperatures.  Perhaps I can bundle up enough for a little outside trianing.  That will perk me up.

I did hear from my neighbors.  Apparently, I made the right decision.  More snow and sleet has landed at my house.  Another several inches - impossible to "shovel" or use the "snow thrower" because of the ice (above and below the snow).  Alas, we can only hope that Phil is correct.

"Pro football is like nuclear warfare. There are no winners, only survivors." ~ Frank Gifford

Madness

Today (Groundhog Day to be precise) could be a beginning after all.  I did look at a small, four-room, two-bedroom house this evening.  I would have walked out until I reminded myself that I only want to rent, not buy the thing.  The application is several pages, and after a quick glance I believe I will leave a few blanks (like income - since the owner/landlord is a co-worker at the plant).

The house is stepping back into history - not only house history but personal history.  It is something that I might have rented as a student, or in the early years of little income.  Built in the late 1930s or early 1940s, the kitchen is the largest room in the building. 

There is an interesting "structure" beneath the floor between the living room and hall.  Apparently, it was some type of "heater" used to warm the house.  I have been told it will be covered over with the "new" carpet.  The current one is a conglomeration of varying shades of "puke green."  Most attractive.

The kitchen is passable.  The refrigerator needs a lot of bleach to bring it around, as does the stove.  I understand that the "unusual" brown, patterned rug will be replaced with linoleum.  Couldn't be any worse.  There is a window air conditioner in the "back bedroom." 

All in all, the price is about right - AND there is a one-car garage thrown in.  Interesting structure as well - the garage is one "building" shared by two houses.  Who am I kidding - this is still the "rabbit hole."  I hope I can qualify.

'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked. 'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'  ~ Lewis Carroll (1832 - 1898), Alice in Wonderland