Even though the country roads have reached their worst condition of the winter, I still enjoy taking the rough and rugged North Kootenai Road route to town.
Nine times out of ten, if I make it through all the bumps and potholes and mud and snow to Betty Berger Pass, I know a reward awaits.
Several deer and their turkey friends are usually hanging out around the house and outbuildings at the Berger farm.
They can read, and they know perfectly well that all the "No Hunting" signs along the road are keeping them safe from being shot, 'cept maybe by a camera.
We've had some really ugly days this week, but even with the fog and steady rain, the group provided me a moment of enjoyment with my camera.
At the far end of January, these moments with the natural world are vitally important for one's mental outlook.
On the day I took the turkey and deer pictures and while slowly, cautiously maneuvered my way home down the road, I came to a conclusion reached many, many times in my life here in North Idaho.
There's no uglier place in the world, at least in my mind, during these times.
In fact, much of the scenery on late January days, dominated by dirty, cemented snowbanks and fast-appearing mud along with leg-breaking ice and fog and constant rain, reminds me of the scenes described in George Orwell's novel 1984.
Gray, gloomy, dirty, ugly.
It's the price we pay-----and we got off easily on some daily specials over the past two, comparatively open winters----for our neck of the woods, providing us with seasonal supplies of astounding beauty and awe.
I've never felt awestruck during January days of outdoor misery around here, but I do work really hard at exercising patience and a positive attitude.
Sometimes that fails, and now that Bill is spending more time at home, he's getting to listen to daily commentaries on just how ugly it is outside. Still, he gets the good reports, too, and with our having more time to visit, he usually has some good responses---'cept for when I'm griping.
Take yesterday, for example. He was working at his desk, and I had already turned stir crazy after about 45 minutes in the house following morning chore.
"I'm going for a walk," I announced, adding that on this day I would be wearing my rain pants. Two or three days of walking the road and coming home with mud-splatted pant legs made me realize that the rain pants would be a good idea.
We were experiencing a fairly heavy downpour at the time, but I always figure that on these walks, I can deal with getting wet. I can just throw the wet stuff in the dryer when I get home. Even in rain, nothing beats the fresh air of the countryside.
Yesterday, I decided to turn west on Selle Road rather than taking my usual routes north or east or south down North Kootenai Road.
This decision involves more crisscrossing to avoid being splashed or run over by the oncoming, fast-moving traffic than I encounter on the other routes, but the Selle Road wet pavement seemed more appealing than other muddy routes.
The wet walk was fairly uneventful until I happened onto one of those memorable moments arising from the mundane.
Just past my neighbors' Wes and Alicia's home, I looked to the right and immediately thought, "A partridge in a pear tree."
Well, that's assumption is not exactly accurate, but the big bird sitting on the branch of a leafless tree had a noticeable crown. So, of course, it offered something out of the ordinary.
After walking back and forth, studying it and snapping a couple of photos with my cell phone, I finally decided the bird was a grouse, sitting in a spot where we don't usually see grouse.
It's more common to spot them hanging out on roadsides and suddenly noisily fluttering off into the woods.
My presence yesterday did nothing to fluster this bird. It just sat on its perch and took in the sights and sounds without too much concern.
I almost thanked the bird out loud but limited my appreciation to silent thoughts. After all, the grouse had provided me a story and a memory to share on this otherwise blah day.
We have to look for the diamonds in the rough on these January days, and when we find them, our lives are enriched.
Seeing that grouse in an unusual setting on an otherwise miserable day provided a nice little nugget of joy, especially after looking for other rainy day outlets by turning on the television, only to hear the same T-word over and over and over and over and over.
I'll take turkeys any day over the other T-word. Enough said.
How 'bout those ZAGS! Back to their winning ways----so much so I even nodded off at the end of last night's game.
And, the good news on this Friday, there's a sun shining through the window up here in the computer room. It's casting shadows on the wall.
Unlike the endless, often nauseating and insane political season ahead, the worst of January is over, and it's gonna end on a nice note with a little sunshine and dry days.
Yay, sun! Happy Friday.
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