WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

While I wasn’t standing on the pier along the Detroit River as early as last Sunday morning, today I had my binoculars pressed to my frozen face before most folks enjoyed their first cup of coffee.  Heading out the door into a wind chill of 4 degrees, compared to last Sunday’s balmy 40-degree temperature, was certainly no treat, but, as long as some bald eagles were present at Dingell Park, I would be waiting for them.

I’d not used my binoculars in ages, so I practiced using them at home before leaving.  For many years we had birdfeeders and birdbaths in the backyard, as did our next-door neighbor Marge.  For all seasons, besides bread tidbits, I enticed the birds with Birdola seed bars, black oil sunflower seeds, and suet to attract the cardinals, jays and woodpeckers.  Marge catered to the rest of the crowd with thistle seed socks for the goldfinches, regular seed and millet sprays for the small songbirds, and, in Winter she mounted a few heated bird baths on the deck railing.  At Christmastime, more than once I saw some broken, or slightly burnt cookies lined up along the deck railing, same to be enjoyed on a first-come, first-served basis.  The squirrels usually commandeered the cookies before they even cooled off.  Come Summer I put out birdbaths and Marge had her hummingbird feeders, so there was always a flurry of feathered friend activity to watch with the naked eye or through our binoculars.   That was long before digital cameras were popular, so all the images of those beautiful birds remained in our heads.

When I arrived at Dingell Park, there were just a few people gazing at Mud Island, but no tripods and cameras with long lenses were set up like last week.  I wasn’t surprised because not only was it cold, but gray and gloomy as well.  While I shivered at the river, I had a primo view of Mud Island and the ice floes, but no eagles were out and about yet, so, I took my bag of clementine segments I’d brought for the ducks and had some eager takers for those treats.  The beautiful swan was dining elsewhere this morning.

Finally, there was a sign of life on Mud Island as several bald eagles flew out from the trees at once.  “Wow” was all I could say and that’s exactly what I heard others utter as they stood nearby on the pavilion.  I kept the camera tucked away, because as long as the eagles stayed in the trees, they looked like dark blobs on the bare branches.  One eagle flew down to the ice floe and I fiddled with the binoculars to hone in on him.  Just like last Sunday, I marveled at the magnificent wing span as he descended onto the ice floe.  There he sat, and I could study him up close thanks to the binoculars.  What a menacing look it wore with that long beak, its white head, a sharp contrast to its dark body.  I realized how large a bald eagle really is, so much larger than I thought from my same vantage point last week, but then watching with my naked eye.

I hated to blink, not wanting to miss any action by that eagle, but then my attention was diverted when I saw a streak in the sky and another eagle began its descent from the treetop.  It swooped down, powerful feet outstretched, skimming along the surface, then dipping those clawed feet into the water.  There was a big splash and the eagle flew off with something clasped in those sharp claws.  It happened in an instant and I assume it was a fish, but not a big one.  Poof – he was gone in a flash, those mighty wings powering him back up into the treetops.  That episode is a good example of the term “eagle eye” isn’t it?

The eagle on the ice floe grew tired of the view and finally flew away, and since there was no more activity, I moved on as well, glad for the chance to have had a close-up view of these regal-looking birds.

I warmed up in the car, then headed to Council Point Park, just a few miles away.  Here I was welcomed with open arms, er … paws, by a half-dozen squirrels, only a minute after starting on the trail.  “I know, I know” I told them as I struggled to open the Ziploc bag with my heavy gloves, while trying to keep my furry friends from climbing onto my boots or shimmying up my pant leg (yes, that’s happened in the past when they get impatient, and I don’t especially like it).

Those persistent squirrels  hit pay dirt as I dumped out the entire bag, knowing I had another bag in reserve.  Then I headed along the trail.  I was glad I wore my hiking boots, because, just as I suspected, that one-day warm-up didn’t get rid of the ice and snow on the perimeter path.  On the side closest to the Creek, I was forced to walk on the snowy grass.  The Creek was a skating rink, and, unlike the Detroit River which has a swifter current, the Creek looked to be solid ice.

The submerged trees were frozen in place and I wondered how long until I would be writing about the big turtles that line up on the log to bask in the morning sun.  Four months perhaps?

Todd, the jogger who is a fixture at the Park every weekend all year long, was on the opposite loop.  I saw he had discarded his hoodie on a park bench and I called across to him “you’re making me colder seeing you running with bare arms.”  He kind of shrugged off my comment and said “I’m like a wild animal when I run and don’t feel the cold at all.”

Two trips around the entire Park and I was ready to head home.  I got into the house and the bitter cold had rendered my cheeks as red as my burgundy squall jacket, my nose was running like a sieve and my eyes were watering.  This morning’s bowl of oatmeal had gone to my frozen toes and I was starving from all the fresh air, but first, all I wanted was to wrap my fingers around a hot mug of coffee.

So, now we await the event … this predicted 3-6 inches of new snow.  I looked out a short time ago, and it was snowing lightly and the pavement was covered.  So, I had my outing, and now I think I’d like to hibernate for the rest of the Winter.

Last Sunday I spent a delightful morning at three parks getting my nature fix, then, within 24 hours, the weather went from enjoyable, to bitter cold, snowy and icy.  The wacky roller coaster weather has prevailed this entire Winter season.  On Tuesday, I grumpily proclaimed that my walking shoes would be mothballed, but, along came Wednesday with its temps in the 40s and the cement was once again whisked clean of snow and ice permitting a couple of walks after all.  Now, a 3-6 inch snowstorm looms on the horizon.

So, do we have blind faith in the meteorologists with their fancy models and balloons to predict tomorrow’s storm, or can those savvy weather guys and gals really foretell the long-range forecast?

We either believe them, or hang onto the mid-Winter words of a furry little critter that makes a “prediction” every February 2^nd for Groundhog Day.

Well, today dawned bright and sunny, so Punxsutawney Phil did see his shadow in Gobbler’s Knob, Pennsylvania, and the crowd cheered, and I wondered aloud why they did so???

Here in Michigan, we have our own furry weather prognosticator, “Woody, the Woodchuck”, and she lives at the Howell Nature Center.  Every February 2^nd, at 8:15 a.m., the naturalists at the Center open Woody’s door to her “house” and, if she ventures outside within 30 seconds, it means Spring is on the way.  This morning she stayed put.  Can you blame her, I mean, who wants to go out with temps in the teens, even if you are wearing a fur coat?  This little lady’s prediction rate is more accurate than Phil’s (15 out of 19 times); Phil is only correct 38% of the time.  Woody’s handlers say her predictions are correct since she bases them on a woman’s intuition.

Two furry rodents made the same prognostication today, so it will continue to be a long cold Winter.

Enough of predictions and intuitions … now it is time to deal with recognitions.

Mother Nature was not the only one that was full of surprises this week.  Noor, a fellow blogger here on WordPress, nominated me for a Liebster Award.  I read Noor’s post and was not only astounded, but honored.

The Liebster Award is recognition by another blogger to show appreciation and respect for your blog and your dedication to it, and was created to recognize and/or discover new bloggers in the WordPress world.  I acknowledged Noor’s nomination and thanked her, and my task was to  nominate 11 more bloggers and recognize their work.

But, I soon realized I faced a dilemma, because in giving a shout-out to some bloggers I follow, I am forsaking others, which hardly seemed fair or equitable.

To be honest, soon I will celebrate the 5^th anniversary of this blog, and I’ve never really tried to gain more subscribers.  I created the site, and, using my gift of gab, kept churning out posts on a myriad of topics, mostly walking, some 1,065 to date.  Evidently, I should have taken WordPress Blogging 101, since I’ve never tagged my posts or searched out other bloggers.  All along, I have had a handful of subscribers, and you know who you are, the faithful who have commented on my posts, identified with, lamented or laughed about that day’s narrative, or, even felt sadness over the occasional tribute I’ve made.   These faithful folks were from the “outside world” and not WordPress bloggers, but, all that changed around Thanksgiving.  Suddenly, the “likes” and “comments” increased and my WordPress followers began to grow in leaps and bounds.  I surmise one WordPress blogger latched onto my blog in a search and followed me, I reciprocated, and commented on their posts, and some of their followers soon became my followers.  Today, I received notice of my 50^th follower!  Some of you may have hundreds or thousands of followers, but this was quite the coup for me.

By Christmas, I’d discovered many new blogging pals, not necessarily from my blog genre.  Like me, there are bloggers who similarly appreciate nature, but many of my new followers fill their blogs with stories of tears and fears, hopes and dreams, personal goals, self-improvement – the topics are diverse.

For me, who works from home and does not interact with a variety of personalities in the workplace like most of you probably do, it’s been a prolonged virtual meet-and-greet of bloggers and personalities from all around the world.

It’s interesting to read the perspective on school’s trials and tribulations, and current events by a 20-something California college student.  Actually, I find many similarities in our views and experiences, despite our 40-year age difference, and, sometimes I relive some of those rigors of college when reading his posts.

I’ve often identified with a young Finn who fills her posts with quotes, poems and tidbits of interest.  She finds beauty in this world in the form of felines with her feature “Caturday” or provides interesting images of her native Finland.

There are blogs by women, about women, and for women – they pour their respective hearts and souls into their writing, and, I often find myself with eyes glued to the computer screen, nodding my head in silent agreement.  The years fall away sometimes, as it does not matter if I’m reading the words of a woman my age, or a younger woman, all whom have embarked on a career, or pursued an interest, recounted a story from her past … we’ve all been there, and it seems we all have a tale to tell.

On the lighter side, you’ve enlightened me with your passions, whether it is as an artist, or simply dabbling in arts and crafts.  Creativity abounds, from the blogger in England who leaves me laughing with his daily limericks, to the blogger who describes their work as “abstract absurdist literature” and, as to creativity, I sometimes feel my daily trudge report pales in comparison to these imaginative offerings, leaving me pondering whether the words “wit and whimsy” should truly remain a part of my blog title.

But sadly, life is not all fun and games, as we all know.  I’ve also read your heartbreaking posts about losing a child, the angst of mental illness, and how you cope with catastrophic diseases like cancer or lupus … even the ordeal of dealing with divorce.

There are several travel blogs I’m following, and those posts chronicle trips that I vicariously enjoy, sometimes pegging them as potential bucket list items, but, realistically, would there be enough years left for me to take all those trips that I read about?  Probably not, so perhaps I’ll just enjoy those bloggers’ narratives and images which paint pictures so vivid that I’ve felt like I was along for the ride, despite sitting right here at my kitchen table.  Sometimes those travel posts evoke memories from venues visited back when I travelled in my 20s and 30s.

I’ve also learned plenty about life in these United States, and, with just a few clicks of my mouse, I’ve immersed myself in tales and viewed photos about getting around snowy Alaska, enjoyed the beauty of the country roads in Tennessee, glimpsed rural life in Northern Michigan, and oohed and aahed over magnificent images of the sun and all things nature taken in a blogger’s backyard in the Great Plains of Nebraska.

I’m impressed and wowed by each of these posts.

So, back to my dilemma … how do I single out my eleven favorite blogs to similarly nominate their creators for the Liebster award?

Sorry … after much soul searching, I am going to graciously decline Noor’s offer, as I’ve never played favorites and can’t start doing so now.  Ultimately someone’s feelings will be hurt, or they will wind up disappointed.  I accept your praise Noor, and thank ALL of you for your virtual camaraderie which keeps me company on these cold SE Michigan Winter nights.

So, I’m feelin’ and sharin’ the love on this Groundhog Day, for I must do something to create some warmth as Winter still looms large.

Sadly, our Spring-like interlude is over and the snow, ice and bitter cold that is the reality of Winter, came rushing back with a vengeance.

Many of us are miffed here in the Mitten State because all the weather forecasters promised this week would be beautiful, but cold, then late Sunday night there was chatter about a dusting of snow.  By Monday morning, that “dusting” had morphed into a four-inch snowfall, accompanied by freezing rain and a Winter Weather Advisory.

Of course, your roving reporter deferred all of her errands from last week to this week, so she could go gallivanting at the parks and piers, just because she really needed that “nature fix” … that was a bad move for this Winter Weenie who dislikes driving in the snow.

Though my posts and photos were prolific recently, I’m mothballing my walking shoes for a while because we have another snow and ice event coming up this Saturday.  It appears that someone stepped on Mother Nature’s toes and got her riled up.

There are even more clouds on the horizon, because the viewing of the spectacular Super Blue Blood Moon will be hampered by clouds here in Southeast Michigan, thus obstructing our view.  Hopefully, those gloomy skies and cloud cover stay in place until Friday so that Punxsutawney Phil CANNOT see his shadow.  I’d sure welcome Spring’s early arrival – you too?

The clock alarm started buzzing, interrupting my sound sleep.  “Alright already!” I cried, as if that statement alone would stop the annoying noise.  I thought about today’s agenda and was prepared to hit the snooze button at least a dozen times before getting up.  Grocery shopping and housework didn’t appeal to me much and today’s walk would likely be incorporated into the trip to the grocery store.

I switched on the news and heard the weather forecast – 40s and a bright and sunny day with a potential inch of snow tonight.  Well, there goes the walking … for a few days anyway, until the sidewalks and pathway are clear again.  In a heartbeat I said “Pfft” and  decided my task list could wait for another time, because I was going to River for a long walk and to take some pictures and enjoy my day … so there!

I’ve been inspired by a fellow blogger’s sunrise and sunset photos which accompany his blog posts, and, it is difficult to take such a picture here at the house with no obstructions in my view, so I aimed to get to Bishop Park in Wyandotte to catch some rays so to speak.  I missed the mark on capturing those vibrant shades like Keith does at https://uncletreeshouse.com/ … but, by the time I drove five miles to the Detroit River, I still was able to enjoy some of the sunrise with this view from Bishop Park and its river walk:

I strolled along, mere inches from the Detroit River which gently lapped against the pier as I walked by.

Besides me, there was a walker, a jogger and a pair of geese who indulged me with their synchronized swimming routine.  The seagulls must’ve been out scrounging for breakfast, as they were conspicuously absent.

I stayed at that venue about an hour, then headed along the same street to John Dingell Park in Ecorse.  It is similarly situated along the riverfront and just a few miles down the road.  I had never been to this park, but have heard about the eagles that live on Mud Island, which is one of several coastal wetlands in the Detroit River.  The Ecorse Channel separates the City of Ecorse and its riverfront from this 22-acre uninhabited island that is refuge to deer and many species of birds, including eagles.  Below is a photo showing Mud Island in the foreground.

I arrived around 9:30 and several people were already gathered on the pavilion hoping to see some of those eagles.  I spoke with a couple who told me they saw 23 of them in one afternoon recently.  They each had their binoculars trained on Mud Island, where the eagles like to fly from tree to tree, or swoop down onto the ice-covered water in Winter.  I was told there were more eagle sightings this year since it had been such a brutally cold season, causing most of the Detroit River to freeze over.

I soon discovered I was not the only person interested in watching the eagles.  In the pavilion area, people seemed to be divided into two factions:  the serious “birders” with their elaborate photography equipment such as cameras on tripods with extra-long lenses, and then there were the folks who were glued to the horizon via their binoculars.  Every so often you would hear oohs and ahhs when an eagle flew across from Mud Island and landed on an ice floe, like this:

He had a magnificent wingspan.

A few of us kindred souls gathered together to enjoy the ducks that were either frolicking or snoozing nearby, in water so clear you could see through it.

A Mute Swan was hunkered down near the pavilion area and spent most of its time preening, as it let its guard down, seemingly unaffected by the close proximity to all these humans using  smartphones or cameras to capture its regal beauty.

“Ho hum” is all it seemed to say and continued on about its business …

… that is, until a young man standing near me unpeeled a banana and started throwing chunks of it toward this beautiful creature.  The swan was immediately energized, stopping its beauty routine, to grab and gulp down some banana pieces.  I turned to the gentleman and said “who knew?”  He seemed surprised as well, and soon the swan came right up to the pavilion railing, poking its long orange bill close to the man’s hand, eager to finish off that entire tasty treat.  But instead, his benefactor tossed out the remaining banana pieces to the mallards, who similarly clamored for a sweet tidbit by waddling closer with their wide webbed feet and quacking all the while.

I watched as this man then pulled some walnuts out of a bag and threw them toward the swan and ducks, and once again there was a mad rush, with the swan getting the majority of the treats.  I said I wished I had something to give them, but only had peanuts which were stuffed in my pocket.  He said “you could try – I don’t think it would choke him, do you?”  So I tossed out one, and the swan grabbed it, cracked open the shell and gobbled it down in a second.  I turned to the young man and said “please don’t let me get home and Google ‘is it safe to feed swans peanuts?’ and discover it is a no-no for their diet.”  He laughed.  (I Googled and it is okay to feed them peanuts – whew!)

I left the feeding frenzy and strolled along the river walk at Dingell Park enjoying the beautiful day.

There were many large pieces of ice floating along in the River’s swift current.  They sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, and, as they bumped up against one another, it sounded like the clink of ice cubes in a glass.

The Canada Geese were everywhere, swimming in pairs, or large groups, and I was lucky enough to be gazing at some geese when their signal caller told them it was time to take off.  They left the surface of the water in a flurry and I wondered what the hurry was as they made a lot of noise just to fly over to the Park area to graze on the grass.

After walking the riverfront twice, I went to take one last photo and the camera rebelled saying “charge battery!”  I guess I took too many pictures today.

Like the geese, it was time for me to fly as well, but I hated to head home on this beautiful Sunday, so I decided to go to my old standby, Council Point Park, to get a few more miles walked.  Might as well make the squirrels’ day too.  I walked two loops, the equivalent of two miles, there.

I ended up putting a dozen miles on the car, five miles on my feet and a wide smile on my face today.

Well, it’s not as if the Ecorse Creek at Council Point Park is extraordinarily special.  Most months of the year, it is a murky-looking color of brown.  This body of water is certainly not worthy of reflection like Walden Pond was to Thoreau.  It is merely a portion of the 18-mile-long Ecorse River and is a habitat for many water fowl who live there.

On one side of the Creek is Council Point Park, and, on the opposite side, in some places it borders homes in Wyandotte, and other portions butt up against a wooded area.  There is no bridge to access the other side.

Of significance, is that Council Point Park is right in the middle of our city, and Lincoln Park is hardly a rural area.

When I first began walking at the Park in 2013, I was told tales of coyotes, fox and deer that lived across the Creek in the densely wooded area, and that they would be easy to spot in Winter with all the bare brush and trees and snowy backdrop.  Maybe they were tall tales, because each Winter I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of these critters, but I’ve never seen any.

When I was at the Park yesterday, (on what I termed “Frosty Fingers Friday”), I took several pictures of the ice-covered Creek.  Some portions were solid ice, with huge fallen trees frozen in place, smack dab in the middle of the Creek.

In other portions, you could see the water through the thin ice.

Upon examining the photos I took yesterday, I wondered anew if some of the critters yonder across the Creek would ever attempt to cross to the Park side by walking on the ice?  Hmmm.  Who knows what might be lurking in the brush, besides that roly-poly gopher, as I amble along on my walk?

I needn’t have wondered (or worried) for long, since the 51-degree temps Friday afternoon caused a lot of the ice to dissolve and float down the center of the Creek in the form of mini ice floes.  The mallards were mixing and mingling in the water as chunks of ice drifted past them.  I saw a heron standing on one thin leg, in a stork-like pose, atop a partially submerged tree.  That was my first sighting of the heron since last Fall.  I would have liked to get a photo of him, but I didn’t bring my camera along as the wind was gusting to 25 mph and I didn’t want to get any debris in the camera.

But, not toting the camera with me was a mistake, since it seemed like Ol’ Sol was quite conflicted this morning.  As I wended my way to the Park, I watched the sun repeatedly attempting to peek through the gray mottled sky, adding some pale pastel hues here and there for just a few seconds, then disappearing again.  It would have been an interesting photo.  Just as I arrived at Council Point Park, the sun finally gave up and slunk behind the clouds for good.

I sure was glad I’d donned my Chullo-style hat and tied it under my chin to keep it from going airborne in the stiff breeze.  I always feel like an oversized kid wearing this goofy-looking hat with the earflaps and pom-pom straps, but at least it stayed put and didn’t go somersaulting down the street, or snag onto a branch over the Creek, like my wool caps have done in the past on a breezy day.

The regular crowd has still not returned, perhaps put off by the wicked wind, but the squirrels came out in full force this morning, eager for a treat.

Today I made up for yesterday’s scanty steps by walking about 9,000 steps, which is 4 ½ miles.

Before I left for home, I scanned the Park one more time looking for any unusual critters from across the pond, er … Creek.  Nope, nothing out of the ordinary.  So, perhaps what happens yonder across the Creek, stays yonder across the Creek?  Maybe it’s all just an urban legend?

I may never know, and, as they say “the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.”

It was a glorious Friday here in Southeast Michigan, despite the frosty temperature this morning.   The sun put in an early appearance, busting through the clouds with a big burst of energy and bathing the Earth in a warm glow.  Have you noticed how the days are getting longer and sunrise is noticeably earlier these days?  While we’re not speeding toward Summer just yet, it sure makes this tail end of January more tolerable.

I left earlier than usual to take the car for a spin before I landed at Council Point Park.  The rest of the walkers may not be back in the swing of things, but I am, and the squirrels are too.  (I knew those little critters would come around eventually.)

Although I never saw any humans or squirrels on Wednesday, my first day back to Council Point Park, yesterday, I spied a pair of them up in a tall tree peering over the side of their nest at me.  Ahh – a sign of life!  I pulled the Ziploc bag of peanuts from my jacket pocket and rattled it as I usually do, and sure enough, those two squirrels began a quick descent to ground level.

Today I similarly enticed a squirrel from his perch in a tall tree.  But, he was a tougher customer for some reason.  He eyed me suspiciously at first, and, I had to keep shaking the Ziploc bag to lure him down.   He must have been a newbie at the Park since he was so wary.

It was only about 27 degrees at that time, and, even though I was wearing mittens that flip back to fingerless gloves, my patience was getting a wee bit thin as my fingertips started feeling frozen.  There I stood, holding the camera in one hand, and the open bag of peanuts in the other, looking a little like a fool, and wishing he would hurry up.  But instead, he kept stopping to scrutinize me while flicking his tail vigorously at each “rest stop” as  he travelled down that tree.  I wanted to tell him “ya snooze, ya lose” but I just used his reticence as a photo opportunity, as he picked his way carefully down through the bare branches.

When he finally arrived at ground level, he was wearing a look of disdain as if to say “I’m here – where are the peanuts please?”  I tipped the bag over and poured some out onto the asphalt path, since my other hand still held onto the camera.  He wasn’t very sociable, so I moved along, eager to put the camera back in its case and jam my ice-cold hands into my jacket pockets.

But having the camera and my hands tucked away was short-lived.  The Ecorse Creek is still frozen over and devoid of ducks, and there were no crows today, but, I did see a flash of scarlet in the brush and discovered a sweet Downy Woodpecker drilling into a thin sapling.  His head with its vibrant red patch gave him away, but his little body was nearly a blur since he was so intent on boring into that wood.  I moved in closer to him, but, by the time I fumbled with the mittens, camera and my still-frozen fingertips, I must have startled him and he disappeared into the brush.

All too soon it was time to leave, and, as I headed back to the car I was thinking that I may have missed out on an extra mile of walking due to fiddling with photos and peanuts, but the peace and solitude of being one with Mother Nature’s gifts on a mid-Winter day gleaned more than those few measly steps would have.

Well, it felt like forever and a day since I last walked at my favorite nature nook.  That’s because it was one month ago today when I was last there.  You may recall my blog post recounting my encounter with the Park critters who dressed to impress on Christmas Eve.  Here is the link in case you missed it:  https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/12/24/twas-the-day-before-christmas/

I decided my long-anticipated return to Council Point Park would be this morning.  It was cold, but the pavement was dry, so off I went, in high spirits, with my camera in tow, plus the deep pockets of my squall jacket brimming with bags of peanuts for the squirrels and cut-up bread for the ducks.

This was the longest walk I’ve undertaken in weeks and I logged four miles.  Those treks to walk laps in the grass at Memorial Park and Ford Park, both near my home, yielded two or three miles on most days.

After wending my way down Pagel Avenue and crossing busy River Drive, I did not see a single car in the parking lot at Council Point Park.  I naturally assumed the regular walkers were still avoiding the Park due to the slippery perimeter path, which is dicey walking, especially the portion of the trail that is so close to the water.  But, I was happy to discover the last three days of constant rain and balmy temps had scoured the ice and snow from the pathway, even though thick ice remained along the banks of the Ecorse Creek and a thinner veil of ice still covered the remainder of the water.

Unfortunately, due to that icy Creek, the mallards and geese were missing and I had planned to entice them for a close-up photo with my yeasty tidbits.  The squirrels were also M.I.A., even Parker, my favorite squirrel, who always comes to show me some love as soon as he spies me in the parking lot.  So, my plan to dispense extra peanuts in one fell swoop, to make up for my lengthy absence, soon fell apart.  I gazed up into the tall bare trees to see if my furry friends were tucked in their nests, but I saw no action up there.  That’s okay – I’ll be back tomorrow to try and entice those furry pals out of their hidey-holes for a photo op and some treats.

So, it was a solitary walk along the perimeter path … just me and my thoughts.  Even my shadow did not accompany me this morning, as the sky was gray and gloomy with traces of snow that occasionally drifted lazily in front of my face, reminding me of those lightweight curls of burnt paper that suddenly go airborne when you build a bonfire.

I walked along, taking in the scenery, blah to be sure, but it still filled me with contentment as I enjoyed the familiarity of my routine.  I even took the camera out to capture a few images along the way, like several seagulls gliding overhead, dark slashes in a streaky-looking sky.  Then, I put the camera away and returned to my woolgathering when a crow’s sudden verbal attack startled me and quickly interrupted my reverie.  I caught a glimpse of a huge crow who flew down, seemingly out of nowhere, and perched in a tree near my head.  Where did that big crow come from?  His persistent loud cawing interrupted the peace and quiet of the moment.  If he would have had better manners, I might have shared my bread with him, but he kept flitting from branch to branch and tree to tree, following me as I walked along the pathway.  His cantankerous and unusual actions made me think twice about tangling with this not-so-fine-feathered-friend.

It sure was good to be back and it felt like old times, even if the gang was missing.

While the title of this blog post may sound like a self-help book for middle-aged brain fatigue, it was actually the last weather forecast I heard before meandering outside this morning.  Just like yesterday, it was gray and gloomy, but I was not about to complain … no, not me, after I whined incessantly about the snow, ice and brutal temps.  So, I suited up in the interest of gleaning more steps.

Unlike today, our soggy Sunday was not a total washout, and I waited for my window of opportunity and headed out.  I got a couple of miles walked, even though every step felt like  my boot heels were squishing and sinking right into the grass at Memorial Park.

This morning, buoyed by this January thaw, I ventured into the mist, happily wearing walking shoes for the first time in almost six weeks.  But, I hadn’t strayed far on my foray through the ‘hood  when the first raindrops bounced off my nose – well, so much for that.  I wheeled around and headed for home.

A car whizzed by and barely missed drenching me with a salty splash of water that languished in a pothole, and I heard the dregs of the snow melt gurgling through the sewer.  Good riddance to that snow, and I’m hoping the third time is the charm with all the snow melting away … the last two times, we enjoyed balmy weather and the next day we had snow.

While walking home I heard a noise overhead and a passel of squirrels ran single file on the power line.  No, I didn’t hear the clicking of their toenails, but they were chattering among themselves while traversing the cross street.  Considering they are still sporting their Winter girth, they were nimble as they raced overhead, not giving a whit about the rain that was falling gently and splish-splashing in the pothole puddles that are everywhere.

As I neared the house, I saw a robin on the lawn – the first one this year for me.  It is way too early for worms, or he would have been giving me the evil eye and a scowl as I cut across the lawn, perhaps trampling on his anticipated juicy breakfast.

Winter marches on, but I’ve resumed the walking regimen … for now.

Woo-hoo, I’ve walked a total of twelve miles in 2018, as of today.  That lowly total is hardly something to brag about, and, I know I have a loooong way to go to top last year’s total of 1,050 miles walked in 2017.

In my defense, this year’s weather got me started off on the wrong foot, er … boot.  Honestly, if it was not frosty temps with brutal wind chills, it was snowing, or freezing rain.  Or the cement was covered in ice.  How can I gain traction in my walking regimen, when I can barely gain traction to walk to the garage on an ice-slickened sidewalk?   I’ve lost count how many times my morning agenda was shoveling.

So, I waited it all out, with crossed arms, while tapping my foot.

My patience finally paid off, and the past three mornings I’ve strayed over to Memorial Park which is fairly close to my house.  I’ve been walking on the snowy grass, doing laps around the park, meandering past the memorial monuments to the City’s war dead and the big canon.  The flag was flapping in the brisk breeze this morning – yes, that 20 mph wind and 22-degree temperature sure put some color in my cheeks, but, more importantly, I had a spring in my step once more, as I was glad to be back into the walking routine.

The bare trees and snow-covered benches made the park look very barren in shades of strictly black and white.  I suspect after tomorrow’s brief warm-up, the grass will start peeking through the snow and add a touch of color to the landscape over there.

As I began my trek, I watched some chickadees flitting from branch to branch and wished I’d brought along some bread for them, even though they seemed a little skittish in my presence, and quickly relocated to another tree almost as soon as I encountered them.  I wanted to call out “have no fear little ones, as I mean no harm and I’ll take care of you tomorrow.”

Also on that first complete lap around Memorial Park, I passed a group of squirrels playing tag.  At first they were oblivious to me as they raced around in the snow, and up and down the trees.  On that second go-around, they had finished playing but were scrounging for food, down on all fours, their muzzles covered in snow.  I approached three of them, and tossed some peanuts in their direction, and watched those treats quickly disappear into the snow.  It didn’t matter as the trio seemed wary of me and each one scampered away.

I tried to interact with those squirrels back in December when I was walking at this park, but, even then, they were not as friendly as the squirrels at Council Point Park, whose mamas teach them early how to beg once they catch sight of a human who has a pouch of peanuts in their hand or pocket.  The squirrels are a big part of my daily walks at that venue, and, of course, when they’re standing up on haunches, flicking a furry tail and then creeping over to my walking shoe toes, just endears them to me more.

Clearly these Memorial Park critters need to be broken in, as they see me as a tall stranger tromping through their domain.  Perhaps when the snow begins to fade away tomorrow, and they spy their peanuts that magically will appear, they’ll recognize me as a trusted friend to them going forward.

Today’s blog post photo is a painting by my artist friend Maggie Rust.

Oh, the drudgery of this Winter.

I went outside Monday morning and it was already snowing lightly and it continued all the way to sundown.  Those were light and fluffy flakes, but they glommed together to yield nearly three inches of fresh snow.

Now, if you’re a glass half-full person, we’ve made it halfway through January, and, on the plus side, the days are getting longer, but, let’s face facts … another two months of Winter are waiting in the wings.  A pessimist might say there will be many more days of a frosty vapor coming from your mouth when you exit the house, and steamed-up eyeglasses when you come back inside.

When I went out to shovel this morning it was beautiful – okay, I’ll give credit to Mother Nature who did a superb job of turning the dull and blah-looking landscape (since most of the snow had melted), into a Winter wonderland.  It was difficult to appreciate those efforts though, since snowflakes were twinkling down and settling onto my clothes the entire time I was shoveling.

I know we were spoiled by that nice November weather, but Winter has really become a drag at this point.  Not only those intermittent Arctic chills, but the snow and ice have all overstayed their welcome.

There were a few observations I saw as I meandered around the backyard, not necessarily looking for trouble, but  …

This morning was all about tracks and cracks.

In the front there were no tracks, unless you want to count those from my lug-soled boots while I hefted shovelfuls of powdery snow.  But, as I walked to the backyard, there had been a ton of activity with a mishmash of critter tracks in the freshly fallen snow.  There were the delicate bird feet that had alighted and left marks that only slightly marred the frosty surface and tiny paw prints of a squirrel as it scurried up and down the side of the house.  I wonder what critter made the odd tracks that looked like someone was playing “Xs” and “Os” … hmm?   Then, there were some tracks with a tail dragging behind it making a deep ridge in the bright-white snow.

Once that three inches of snow was moved away and cement exposed, the casualties of this cold/warm thaw cycle we experienced last week were evident, with cracks and fissures on the sidewalk, as well as where the porch meets the house.  I felt I could almost hear that crack widening as I studied it … crrrrrack.  Ouch!  The cracks did not crack me up this morning and I thumped the shovel down with a thud, then hurried back into the house to shed my layers and wrap  my fingers around a warm cup of joe.

P.S. – I am late getting this blog post finished.  I was typing away, when I heard a loud noise over an hour ago … was it inside?  Outside?  The critters in the backyard making mischief?  I finally went back to this post, but curiosity got the best of me and I looked on the Downriver Crime Alerts site I follow on Facebook.  The site had lit up with talk of the boom and the flash and I turned on the radio – the consensus is we had a large meteor explode here in Southeast Michigan.  Then I lost my internet connection for an hour.  Meteor dust sprinkled around?  Talk about things that go bump in the night.  All I can say is that I’m posting post-haste before anything else happens.