Well, take a gander at that!


We were blessed with still another beautiful weekend day.

I left later than usual, thinking I’d wait on Mr. Sun to warm things up a bit, so my fingers didn’t freeze when removing the gloves to take some photos.

It seems to me, that in the last week as I’ve set out on my walk, I’ve worn at least four different coats, one seemingly for each season. A couple of the days there was no coat at all.  Such crazy weather!  This morning, the weatherman said it was 45 degrees, so I had layered up, even digging out the wool headband, (which always makes me look like I’m headed to the slopes), since I took the chenille knitted caps to the cleaners last week.

But, in short order, the layers starting coming off. First, the gloves and headband got stuffed into the coat’s patch pockets, then the coat itself was soon looped around my waist … all that, even before I reached the outskirts of Council Point Park.

The trail was packed with walkers, plus one young girl in a tee-shirt and capris on rollerblades. Hmmm, the younger set are more warm blooded is my guess.  The bright blue sky was absolutely devoid of clouds.  No hawks up there either … I’ve been scoping out the sky every time I’m there for more hawks to get a close-up shot.

I did, however, stumble upon this beautiful Canada Goose, standing still as a statue, taking a gander at the activity on a homeowner’s dock across the Creek.  The goose seemed fixated with whatever it saw, yet all I could see was a big white pail and a couple of kids. This goose was so focused, that it never even looked away as its brethren, a pair of noisy honkers, flew right overhead and made a significant splashdown, skidding along the top of the murky waters of the Ecorse Creek.

What was this goose watching, or was it merely woolgathering?

I stood still as a statue myself, right in my tracks, drawing the camera slowly out of the pouch so I wouldn’t scare that beautiful bird. I inched closer and took a few shots, and it never budged in the least, until finally bending that long and sleek black neck to the ground, to nibble at the ground cover which is already thriving.


I finished my loops and arrived home far too quickly to go inside – how I wish we could just bottle up this beautiful day.

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Earth Day 2017.


Today was the 47th observance of Earth Day.

When I heard that little factoid announced this morning, I tried to recall if I might have observed that first day in some manner and just could not remember. But, after all, I was only a teenager at the time, and teens back in 1970 didn’t have many cares about how our earth fared.  Today’s teens are much more in tune with the state of Mother Earth than we ever were.  They sling lingo around like acid rain, energy, fossil fuel and ozone layers.  Did we know that gas tanks should not be filled, nor lawns mowed, on certain days known as “Ozone Action Days?”  I don’t think so.  Today’s kids know about wildlife and extinction, plus are knowledgeable about recycling, global warming and leaving a carbon footprint.

Perhaps these kids already know too much and are scared for how our world will look when they are older and ready to raise their own kids.

Speaking of footprints, carbon or otherwise, I made some of my own. Actually, they were wet splotches along the asphalt perimeter path at Council Point Park, because I strayed off that trail to feed some dried-up bread chunks to the ducks that were congregating near the cement precipice.  The contingent of mallards paddled right over amidst a cacophony of quacks and honks.  They gobbled those tidbits right up, which was lucky for them, since my shoes got soaking wet and covered in grass blades, having traipsed through the freshly mowed and dewy grass.  That first cutting of the season left a fresh smell and wheel tracks in the grass, but didn’t quite shear the tops of the dandelions off.  They were plentiful, probably already numbering in the thousands.

It was overcast when I first arrived at the Park. There were just two other walkers besides me.  Even the squirrels were tucked in their hidey holes.  But, as I progressed on my excursion, the sun came out and the sky brightened.  Dim rays of sun bathed the Park, warming me up enough to unsnap my jacket, even though it was just around 40 degrees.  The second go-around, the squirrels joined me, rushing over to my shoes and looking up at me with a pitiful and petulant pout … okay, it was more of an impatient and pleading look, as my fingers, clad in fuzzy gloves, struggled to get the Ziploc bag of peanuts opened before those squirrels tried to scale my leg.

The trees in the Park have all leafed out now, and, occasionally you’ll see a flowering memorial tree that sticks out like a sore thumb, albeit a pretty sore thumb, amongst the regular trees with their new, bright-green leaves. Of course, those few dead trees are still there, standing up tall, but not so proud, with their raggedy bark and grayish-looking branches.  The jagged trunk of the huge tree that snapped in two from the March 8th windstorm, remains as a solemn reminder of those wicked winds that day.  Its short and stubby trunk is positioned amongst the taller dead trees that tower above, and their bare branches cast long and dark shadows onto the path as I walk along, shutting my eyes to that area of the Park, but taking in the beauty of this little nature nook that is smack dab in the middle of our City.

[Image by Open Clip Art]

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Tuesday Musings.

Easter weekend was not a washout as ALL the weather folks predicted, so they get a collective slap on the hands for making some people cancel their outdoor plans in favor of a drier venue.

Sadly, I’ll just bet that many early morning Easter egg hunts were foregone, because who really wants to be running around the soggy grass, peeking under wet bushes, or peering behind dewy daffs and waterlogged tulips in search of Easter eggs?  Those eggs may have been beautifully colored and decorated with a loving touch at one time, but rain would likely have rendered those delicate shells a runny mess.


I’ve written in the past about my grandmother, who followed the tradition of her mother, and, in anticipation of Easter, boiled several dozen eggs in a huge pot where she put in all the onion skins she had been saving from every Sunday’s pot roast dinner. She’d add those onion skins to the water and when the eggs were finally hard boiled, each egg would be a unique shade of brown … some darker than others, depending on how many skins were crowded in that part of the pot.  Nanny didn’t do any more decorating than that, so, yes … the eggs were colored, not beautifully – let’s just say they were functional.  We got a bag of eggs to take home and had egg salad for days afterward.


The poor egg has been maligned the last decade or so. I clearly remember that sing-song commercial many years ago by the American Egg Board, “The Incredible-Edible Egg”, which touted the many benefits of eating eggs.

But, then people worried the egg yolks would raise their cholesterol levels and clog their arteries, so they began eating “Egg Beaters” or egg white omelets. Well, that’s no fun.  I cut down on eggs myself, based on all the dire news stories about them.  Now, just in the last week, the nutritionists say “go ahead and have the one egg a day, if you’re healthy – there are so many benefits to eating eggs.”  Sheesh – if you live long enough, you will hear the good and the bad for every food and beverage, so who do you listen to?

As for the eggs, maybe the revised nutrition benefits by the experts are valid after all … stay with me here. Last week, the oldest person in the world died.  She was a 117-year old woman who lived in Verbania, a town on Lake Maggiore in Northern Italy.  She died in her armchair according to a caretaker who stopped by daily to check on her.

Her name was Emma Morano, and, she was the last known person to have been born in the 1800s. That claim to fame is because she was born on November 29, 1899, so, yes – she just squeaked into that century under the wire.  I listened to an excerpt of a radio interview that had taken place with a CBS newsman a few years before her death.  Of course, you know that one of his questions was “what do you attribute your longevity to?”  So, I listened to hear her secret to living a long life.  The response was that she had a raw egg daily.  Yuck!  So, that’s the secret to longevity?  So, the yolk’s on us that we non-believers either gave up or limited eating eggs after listening to the health experts.  While, I am not sure I want to be around at age 117, I must confess that I did buy more eggs than usual when I went to the grocery store yesterday.

Speaking of eggs, that sun looked like a big, bright-yellow yolk suspended in the sky when I returned from my walk this morning. Yesterday was a blah day which I spent running errands.  Though I hated to waste a perfectly beautiful walking day running errands and grocery shopping, I did manage to eke out three miles from those tasks, plus completing a few laps at Meijer while I was there, and, I put 17 miles on the car as well – woo hoo.  The car needed a long run, as it only gets the stops and starts in the City, and, with the I-75 detour, Fort Street is forever bottlenecked due to the extra heavy traffic.

Spring may finally have sprung and is here to stay, albeit today’s chilly start. My boss was out again this morning, so I went to the Park, camera and peanuts in tow, and escaped for a breath of nature.  Along the way, every single tree and flowering bush seemed to be on parade as I walked past.  At the Park, lots of squirrels were eager to see me – perhaps I should have bought animal crackers instead of two more bags of peanuts yesterday – today is National Animal Crackers Day … do you think the squirrels would have come running for them?  Maybe with a little dab of peanut butter – I know I would have.

[Image of multi-colored Easter egg by Geralt from Pixabay]

[Image of brown Easter eggs by Pezibear from Pixabay]

[Image of colorful Easter eggs by Alex_Fotos from Pixabay]

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Spring Sing.


Easter Saturday sure started out soggy and dreary looking, but things eventually perked up once the sun was out. By then, a little sun went a long way and I could not believe my ears when the weatherman said it got to 82 degrees.  Yikes!  I thought it was too hot – let us have Spring already, not rush us into July weather!  But, yes – it was nice of Mother Nature to come through for those who still had to buy last-minute items for the big holiday, and, for some who wanted to take a walk.  I just hope no one bought chocolate bunnies and left them in the car.

I knew it was going to be crummy this morning, so I slept in. That late start threw me off all day – what a creature of habit I have become.  After breakfast, I hopped on my computer to catch up with the news of the world, and, out of force of habit, I meandered over to the April the Giraffe web cam site.  I have visited that site two or three times a day since it was announced April would give birth in late February.  Well admittedly, the vet was a little off, because April finally gave birth this morning, and, wasn’t I lucky to be just checking out the site, when tiny hooves appeared, followed by a nose, ears, and, then one gigantic push by April and out popped the calf who plopped onto the sawdust-covered floor.

While Oliver, the anxious father, watched over his stall door, April was quick to inspect her still-dazed baby, and nuzzle it, and clean it with her long gray tongue. I thought I’d just stay put, my eyes trained on the stall, for a few more minutes, until the calf stood up, but, I found myself, along with over a million other viewers, (according to the tally on the corner of the web cam screen), waiting for the baby giraffe to spring to its feet and bond with its mother.  Slowly, April continued cleaning her offspring and nudged it to move, and it responded to her touch, wiggled its ears, but laid there, seemingly unable to transition to a standing position.  Several attempts had it landing back onto the floor, and, I am sure there were collective gasps by viewers (yes, I gasped or winced too) at each failed try.  But, finally the six-foot tall, 150-pound baby giraffe was triumphant, getting upright, on shaky legs, and soon toddled over to have some of Mom’s milk.

The miracle of life – there is nothing like it, especially when we could witness it before our own eyes.

Since returning to the site tonight, I have discovered the baby is a male, and baby and Mom have been checked over by Dr. Tim, the vet, and are in good shape. There will be a naming contest to be announced by the animal park.  Tonight, I watched the pair as they bonded, and, while the baby nursed, Oliver craned his long neck to not miss anything. I guess he is feeling a little out of the loop now.

Meanwhile, many miles from Animal Adventure Park in Harpursville, New York, the critters and the humans here in Southeast Michigan were enjoying this Easter Saturday.

The birds were joyful, singing their hearts out, like this Starling high in a flowering tree.

The walkers – well, they were joyful too, especially one man who always brings his transistor radio with him to the Park when he walks.   He knows all the words to the songs he sings to.  The gentleman has a song in his heart, and, is so overcome with joy when he sings aloud, that you cannot help but smile whenever he passes by.

The joy of nature and having a song in your heart – it’s a feeling that cannot be beat.

Be joyous for the holiday tomorrow – Happy Easter everyone.

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Long in the Tooth.


Well, there were two events marking this 14th day of April.

The first was that I turned 61 years old.

Well there, I went ahead and said it … 61 years old, and, I guess that wasn’t so bad after all. Actually, turning 60 was monumental and way more traumatic for me.  So, time to move on, and, like I told a former coworker when she turned 60 on the 4th of April, “now that we have reached that milestone, we will quietly mark the years going forward, but not celebrate ‘em.”  She agreed.

The second event was a trip to the dentist.

Actually, it was just a regular hygienist appointment and x-rays, with a quick peek at my choppers by Dr. Kelly. It was beautiful weather, so I could still salvage a walk and got a 2 ½ mile roundtrip done, then ran some errands, so all was not lost, plus no cavities or mischief going on inside my mouth, so that really made my day.

When Dr. Kelly walked into the room, he wished me a happy birthday, and, my response was “well thank you Dr. Kelly, but I guess another year older means I am getting long in the tooth.” “No Linda, not for a long time yet!” he laughed.  I probably beamed at his response because that affirmation raised my comfort level, since your teeth are good for about fifty years if you maintain them in primo condition, then the problems begin.  Your permanent teeth arrive by age twelve, and you spend the next 50 years grinding, chomping, biting, plus eating and drinking sugary stuff that doesn’t do those choppers any good either.

In conjunction with the upcoming Easter holiday, Trina, my hygienist, asked if I was a Peeps eater because they are bigtime sugar demons for teeth.  Well, nothing like a Debbie Downer just before the big Easter holiday, but, I told her I don’t do Peeps anymore, and she applauded that answer.

So, back to that expression of being “long in the tooth” which is a description you don’t hear about much in casual conversation, unless you are a horse trader and prone to peeling back a horse’s lips to check out his or her teeth. The more elongated that old nag’s teeth are, the older that horse is.  Sadly, that phenomenon happens to us humans too … as we age, our gums recede, gradually revealing more of the teeth, making them appear longer.

Hey, the tooth, er … truth, hurts sometimes!

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Nuttin’ Honey!


I’m on a roll this week for getting to Council Point Park for my morning walk and I’m pleased about that.

I hurried out the door since the weatherman said occasional rain was in today’s forecast. It is bad enough that rain and thunderstorms will spoil our Easter weekend mornings, but today too?  We’ve had enough rain in my humble opinion, but, it is April after all, and, we have to endure those April showers to get the beautiful May flowers.

The neighborhoods were quiet as I headed down to the Park, and, only a handful of cars whizzed by, so perhaps the Easter holiday has begun for some folks already. I took note of the construction barrels and piles of mud and gravel that were deposited yesterday on Pagel Street after I walked by on my way home.  Soon, they will resume the construction and sewer work halted last Fall, so no more walking that way as the street has been closed off and the heavy machinery and workers will be overtaking the area.  It was a big, muddy mess most of last Summer while the construction was ongoing.

As soon as I neared the parking lot at Council Point Park, I saw significantly fewer cars, no doubt due to the chilly and overcast morning, so I was not surprised by the presence of only a few of the regular walkers on the trail. The mom pushing the baby carriage was absent as well.  Believe it or not, in my journey on the perimeter path, there was not a single squirrel, duck, goose or swan.  Where did everybody go?  Guess, they, like the walkers, decided to hunker down and await the sun’s appearance before venturing out.  Thus, it was a nuttin’ honey kind of morn.

I was glad I dressed in warmer clothes today by adding a scarf and my polar fleece gloves – I’m such a wimp, but, hey … I like to be comfortable while walking. There was no need to drag out the camera since I saw no critter activity, and, besides, I’ve taken a slew of pictures over the past few days, like this one above.  Shortly after tossing out some peanuts on the trail, this little guy picked up a peanut and ran like the wind over to a log to eat his treat.  He was so cute, I couldn’t help but get a shot of this little honey noshin’ on a nut.

Once I left the perimeter path and began crossing the large parking lot to head home, I felt the first spritz of rain. It was sprinkling just as I arrived home.  Pretty good timing on my part, not that I’m made of sugar and would melt anytime soon.

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Birds of a feather.


My boss was in Bay City at a hearing, so, I had an easy morning. I decided to take the car for a spin, then do two complete loops at Council Point Park and drive home.  I knew I had time to linger, so I took extra peanuts, and planned to take some pictures, plus get four miles walked before heading home.

I stepped outside, and, even though I had heard the weather forecast, and didn’t think 47 degrees was all that chilly, I went back inside and got a heavier coat. I knew it would be windy at the Park, so I kept my hat plastered on my head, but had no gloves on.

I got to the Park, and, despite the chilly weather, the same group of people were already on the trail, but, unlike yesterday, they, too, had donned heavier jackets. I thought of the expression “birds of a feather flock together” because the diehard walkers will now be here, every day, come rain or shine, cold or hot weather.  I noticed that the other walkers had either shoved their hands into their pockets, or, like me, had them tucked up under their coat sleeves.  It was chilly indeed, and, as I said, it is often windier at the Park, rather than just strolling through the neighborhoods, especially, as you pass some parts of the perimeter path that have no trees or bushes to keep the wind from buffeting you as you walk along. It was a morning to huddle down in your coat and pick up the pace to compensate for that biting wind, to help you warm up a bit.

I noted that the tree that I mentioned in yesterday’s post was completely down. It had been a huge and sprawling tree and now was reduced to several wide trunk pieces and large branches.  A pile of wood chips were all that remained of the large stump and there was a gaping hole in the homeowner’s backyard.

A flash of white in my peripheral vision caused me to glance to my right, and, through the dead reeds and bushes, I saw a majestic-looking Mute Swan. It was such a beautiful bird that I decided to try for a close-up shot as it glided down the middle of the Creek.  It was difficult to take a picture through the dead reeds, tall brown grass and bare bushes that obstructed my vision.  Plus, in order to take the picture, I had to move fast, before the swan paddled out of sight.  That meant I needed to untuck my hands from their warm spot in the coat sleeves, then unzip my coat to access the camera and take it out of the pouch.  I then walked over the grass to get closer to the Creek bank.  It seemed like I took forever, but I finally clicked off some shots.


I noticed a man walking the path who would soon pass me, and, like the man who drew my attention to the hawk soaring high above my head the other day, I similarly pointed out the swan, who was now semi-hidden in the tall reeds. He said “wow – how beautiful!” and he, like me, stepped over onto the wet and somewhat muddy grass for a better look.  He thanked me for showing him the swan and whipped out a smartphone and took a picture, telling me “I will show my granddaughter this picture of this swan .”

I took about a dozen shots to ensure at least one photo came out, then stepped back onto the trail and continued my walk. When I started on the second lap around, what did I see but the swan, down near the Creek banks,  preening itself and fluffing out its feathers in the sun which was just beginning to filter through the clouds.  One might think that a swan is a pristine shade of white, but its neck was so brown and dirty looking .. well, one look at the murky Ecorse Creek water and you’d know why he (or she) looks that way.


It was a treat to watch that graceful swan. There are always Mallards in the water, and often Canada Geese are floating lazily down the Creek or grazing on the grassy areas in the Park.  In the Spring, those geese and their goslings are famous for stopping walkers as they slowly waddle across the perimeter path.  Then, there are always the smaller birds like Robins, Red-Winged Blackbirds, Starlings or Sparrows that are the usual inhabitants of the trees and bushes along the pathway.  Once there was a large heron – I think he was so old, he fell asleep in that big tree as he never moved from his perch for hours.  But, this is only the second time I’ve seen a Mute Swan at the Park.  I am so glad I glanced over that way.


I watched that swan for a short time, then continued on the rest of the figure-eight loop, headed to the parking lot and finally called it a day – as to walking that is. I had added another four miles to my tally and now it is 200 miles walked for 2017 thus far.

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