WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

… or maybe not.

Admire these delicate creatures all you want, but today you had to bring along a donation to do so, that is, if you were visiting Felty Farms, a haven for butterflies.  The donation was your choice of any item from Verne Felty’s wish list to help out local animal shelters.

So, for the price of a six-pack of paper towels, I enjoyed an afternoon with lovers of nature and beauty, and, I’m sure PAWS Clinic, Lucky Day Animal Rescue, NBS Animal Rescue and Wonderland Rabbit Rescue put that donation to good use.

There is no doubt that there is delight in discovering a beautiful butterfly that has alighted on a flower in your garden.  You can’t help but marvel at the beauty of such a delicate creature as a Monarch or Swallowtail, but even the little Cabbage Whites can make you smile as they hover and dance about the garden on a sunny day.

I read about an event called an “open butterfly garden” in the local paper and it piqued my interest, so I decided to visit this home on Windermere Circle in Southgate this afternoon.

I knew this would be something special as I walked toward the house and saw the exquisite landscaping out front.

“Felty Farms” is the name given to Verne Felty’s humongous backyard garden in which her many perennials are planted for the sole purpose of attracting butterflies.

From the very moment I entered the yard, I was mesmerized by this paradise.

Where perennials don’t grow, there are whimsical containers brimming with annuals and imaginative yard art is nestled between plants or popping up in every available space.  Several pathways constructed of wooden planks or soft mulch took visitors around the various areas of the yard where there was a Monarch Waystation, a segregated area where milkweed, the lifeblood of the Monarch butterfly was planted, and a very sophisticated scarecrow reigns over the garden as well.

Purple blooms from butterfly bushes lure butterflies and bees, and when a dainty Red Admiral butterfly alighted onto a bloom to sip that sweet nectar, at least ten people pulled out their phones or cameras and stood poised, waiting for that delicate creature to spread its wings so we could collectively take in the full beauty with our naked eye as well as the camera lens.

After we clicked away, we were additionally rewarded for our patience when that Red Admiral Butterfly stretched for us and soon even more oohs and ahhs and cameras clicking was heard.

The butterflies seemingly would have been the main attraction in this gorgeous yard, but they were a bit scarce today as it was overcast.  Butterflies love the sunshine, and like to sun themselves on a flat rock.  Perhaps the crowd scared the bulk of them away as well.

But the bees were not intimidated by this gathering of garden lovers.  They were busying themselves inside the butterfly bush blooms trying to sip the sweet nectar.  When people began waving their arms as the bees hovered close by, we were told that these were Carpenter Bees and they were harmless.

I was certainly not the only person infatuated with the Koi fish pond with its huge inhabitants.  I’ve only seen pictures of these beauties and the Koi fish were the hit of this event for old and young alike.  A waterfall splashed down into the pool which was filled with pond lilies and surrounded by colorful annuals and lush greenery.  Some children were bending down close to admire the fish, so they were given some fish food to dole out.  Everyone gathered around as the Koi fish grouped in one corner, eager to devour their lunch.

Around and around I went, ensuring I didn’t miss a single flowering plant or creative garden treasure tucked amongst those blooms.

My last stop was climbing the wooden steps to the deck to see Elvira, a 7-year old Shih Tzu, who was spotlighted on the news, after this severely abused dog was rescued by NBS Animal Rescue, where she is still recovering from her injuries almost one year later.

I enjoyed strolling through this butterfly garden and came away with the same peaceful feeling from this paradise that I had when I walked through Council Point Park earlier on a quiet Sunday morning.

We were blessed with still another picture-perfect day here in Southeast Michigan, so my destination was Heritage Park in Taylor.  I have passed that Park’s entrance hundreds of times through the years, when I traveled up Northline Road to Southland Mall, but it was my first visit there.

I knew this Park would hold much appeal for me, the nature lover and walker.  Plus, I was looking forward to visiting the historical village area where you have the opportunity to travel back in time, by checking out the historical homes and walking across a covered wooden bridge.

On such a beautiful Saturday, I expected there might be big crowds, so I arrived shortly after the Park opened at 8:00 a.m.  I parked as far away as possible, hoping to maximize my steps for my excursion.

I decided to take a tour of the historical buildings and just enjoy the scenery first, then take pictures later.

The centerpiece of Heritage Park and its historical buildings is beautiful Coan Lake, which is a large manmade pond.

Surrounding this picturesque pond are several buildings of historical significance to the City of Taylor, as well as a beautiful gazebo.

There was the proverbial little red schoolhouse, which looked just as you might have pictured from your grandparents’ description of the one-room building where they learned the three Rs.  Its size reminded me of the tiny Walnut Grove schoolhouse featured in the TV series  “Little House on the Prairie”.

There was an exact replica of an old water mill which was interesting, especially since you could get right up close to the big wheel that operated the mill.

An old red caboose a/k/a “Fitz’s Caboose” and boxcar sit on some railroad tracks.  That caboose evoked a few fond memories of the many times we would need to cross the railroad tracks when we travelled to and from my grandmother’s house in Toronto.  Though my parents would no doubt stew over the long wait while the train rambled on and on as it rumbled over the tracks, my mom would say “Linda:  the end of the choo-choo train is near, so wave to the engineer on the caboose and he’ll wave back to you!”  Lots of fun times when you’re a kid and waving to the caboose engineer and often he did wave back; this seems like a lifetime ago.

A rustic log cabin has the notoriety of being the oldest house in Taylor – it is over 150 years old and still used for meetings throughout the year.

There were other old houses, some which have become a small museum, or a sweet shop, another is a souvenir store, and there is an old church with a wishing well out front.

The historical area of Heritage Park reminded me a little of Upper Canada Village where I visited with my parents when I was young.  That Canadian tourist attraction is  similar to Greenfield Village, where you are able to walk around and visit homes filled with old-time relics or artifacts, with people dressed in clothing reflecting those time periods.

There were so many sights to see that on the second go-around, this time holding the camera, I discovered I had missed a whole area where there was a tall yellow historical house next to where the Goodwill Garden is located.

The Goodwill Garden is a community effort where different people have small plots of land and tend to flowers and vegetables.  All the produce grown there is donated to local food banks and other charitable organizations.  The flowers in and around the Goodwill Garden area were gorgeous, and, as far as the eye can see, it was plot after plot of rich earth, filled with colorful blooms and veggies.

Years ago, when I visited Frankfurt, Germany with my parents, I first heard about the concept of having your own garden plot if you lived in the city.  It was common for Frankfurt city dwellers to own plots of land in a rural area where they could grow their own fruits and veggies and/or have a flower garden.  Those large areas of land were divided into long strips, all individual plots, and people bought a plot, then plopped a small potting shed and a table and chairs there.  It was an outlet for fresh air and exercise, plus an endless supply of fresh produce all Summer.

After leaving the historical village area, I headed over to the covered wooden bridge.  In my travels, I have never seen a covered bridge so I took several shots of it, from different angles, then walked over the wooden planks, gazing into the water at all the ducks – probably a hundred of them, gathered in the water by the bridge.

The entire grounds are so picturesque, especially Coan Lake, which features several fountains and catch-and-release fishing.  There were several men fishing near the covered bridge.  Again, the water was filled with mallards, mostly females.  I wished I had brought bread for them as you could get so close to the edge of the water.  Both the gazebo and a small pier gave an excellent view of the water and the collection of ducks, and even geese that grazed nearby.

After my extensive tour of the lake and village, I then went on the walking path which took me around the entire Park – whew!  Luckily I had picked a cool day for this trip as I’d already covered well over three miles before I even started on the walking trail.

My last stop was to visit the Taylor Conservatory and Botanical Garden which is located on the fringe of Heritage Park near Pardee Road.

But, it was not open to the public today, as signs indicated a private event (wedding) would be taking place.  But, I was able to get up close and peer inside.

Likewise, I looked around the grounds of the petting farm but did not go inside any of the barns.  The barnyard had some pigs and a couple of chickens strutting around, plus a pair of ducks that were enjoying their own blue plastic kid’s swimming pool.

I think I will head to Heritage Park more often; perhaps I’ll make a stop there once the colors change.  There were already leaves starting to gather at the base of the trees in the wooded areas of the walking trail, and, as I walked past them, I could detect that faintly musty smell of decaying leaves – it is just a matter of time now, before they will be fluttering to the ground.

I loved meandering through this place full of mallards and memories.  It was an enjoyable, and even exhausting, trip as my pedometer read 6 ¼ miles by the time I finally reached my car and gratefully sank down into the seat.

I threw off the covers this morning once I heard that pesky alarm go off, then snuggled back under them again for forty more winks.  Yup, that first chilly morning in Fall and you feel the chill in the air after slipping out of the warm covers.  But wait – Fall still isn’t here until September 22^nd.

It sure felt Fallish when I left for my walk and the temperature was 53 degrees.  I half-expected to see a trail of condensation coming from my mouth in the cool air.  I surrendered my short-sleeved tee-shirt and wore a sweat suit after freezing at the Park yesterday.  Even though the sun was out full strength by the time I finished a brisk, five-mile walk, I still hadn’t broken a sweat.

My boss is on his annual freighter trip and departed from the port of St. Joseph, Michigan late this morning.   He is aboard the S.S. Alpena and will travel through Lake Michigan and Lake Huron, down through Marysville and hop off the boat on Sunday evening in Detroit.  I hope he took his long johns with him.

I made my way down to Council Point Park quick like a bunny, partly because I was cold, and, also because I am striving for a new mileage goal for Labor Day.  My mantra lately has been: must walk more miles!  Along the way I startled a cute bunny who quickly turned tail and hopped off, his powder puff  behind bouncing up and down as he bounded away.  I did not take his hasty departure personally.

The perimeter path at Council Point Park was jammed with walkers, all enjoying the cool weather which gave them the extra incentive to get more steps done, instead of that dragged-out feeling we all have when the temps are hot or humid.  The sentiment of the morning that was exchanged among the regular walkers was “I’m just loving this cool weather, aren’t you?”

Like yesterday, it was another nature lover’s delight, though the absence of the honkers told me that the geese gathered for breakfast at another venue.  The blue jays made up for the noise level as they were screeching at one another and making a ruckus from several treetops.  The squirrels were everywhere, no doubt ensuring that they got a big helping of peanuts as they sensed the coolish temps meant they should start stockpiling nuts for Winter.  All too soon, that cold weather will be here permanently and my peanut pals will be bulking up, so that they will be waddling, instead of scampering across that asphalt path to greet me.

There were bunnies galore at the Park, munching on grass and paying me no heed whatsoever as I walked past them, unlike their counterpart from the ‘hood.

They noticed I was duly suited up for the cooler temps and would not be snatching one of them to snuggle up to, as I threatened to do yesterday.

It’s hard to believe that Labor Day weekend is on the horizon, and sadly that is the unofficial end of Summer.  We won’t write off the hot weather and Summer yet, because the calendar and the temperatures often don’t jibe, do they?

Well, the flock has found its way back home again, but those geese may hightail it out of here and head for a warmer climate after this Fall-like weather that has descended on us.

The Canada Geese likewise descended on us … “us” being a gaggle of humans who were enjoying the cooler weather and getting their steps in, while clad in light jackets and long-sleeved tops.  As several of us walkers rounded the bend of the first loop, a whole lot of honking above ensued, which was soon followed by a large flock of honkers.  We looked toward the sky, to find some geese trying to head left, and still others, that were aiming to head right.  Dissension within the ranks!  The flock circled around a few times before alighting onto the baseball field, where they quickly dispersed and joined their brethren.  There they lingered as they grazed.

I hurried on my way since my objective was to complete five miles this morning.  It was a nature-lover’s delight on the perimeter path today.  My squirrel pals must have tired of their tutti-frutti diet, as several of them waylaid me on the path and I stopped in my tracks, pulled out the Ziploc bag of peanuts and treated them.  I saw the green heron again today, woolgathering as he stood while studying the pond lilies that line the edges of the water.  The lilies are scarce now, but the round leaves are still floating lazily on the murky Ecorse Creek’s surface.  I think the green heron has claimed this corner of the cement precipice as his exclusive domain.  Even the groundhog made a cameo appearance, but he was too quick for me, and popped into his hole, taking some sprigs of purple clover “to go” as he beat a hasty retreat just as soon as I neared.  The bunnies were bopping around the perimeter path too, similarly enjoying the longish grass and clover.  I was chilly in that 59-degree temperature and tempted to pick up a bunny or two to snuggle with to take away the goosebumps that popped up on my bare arms.

On the second trip around the entire perimeter path, the geese had meandered from the baseball field and infiltrated the pavilion area and all the paths leading from it.  Our feathered friends were goose-stepping and the walkers were stepping around the geese to avoid a fractious confrontation.

Finally, five loops were done, then once again I was crossing the large expanse of the parking lot to get to the car.  As I neared the furthermost corner of the lot where my car was parked, a huge flock of geese headed into the adjacent field for a landing.  I stayed and took their photo as they milled around, then I continued on to the car, a peaceful feeling from having communed with the Park inhabitants at my favorite nature nook.

I’ll leave you with this quote:

The goal of life is to make your heartbeat match the beat of the universe, to match your nature with nature. ~ Joseph Campbell

I was at Meijer earlier this week, and as I passed the produce department, shoppers were milling around the display of  delicious-looking berries that were on sale.  Those strawberries, blueberries and raspberries sure looked delectable, all plump and brimming with that end-of-Summer goodness that fruits and veggies kissed by the sun, instead of grown in the hothouse, have.  People were scooping up those berry-filled plastic boxes, no doubt planning a mouth-watering dish as they loaded them in to their cart.

A new crop of wild raspberries has appeared on the tree at Council Point Park as well.  You might recall way back on June 16^th I wrote about the two women walkers who were enjoying these sweet berries right off the tree:  (https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/06/16/catch-as-catch-can/

The pair plucked those sweet nuggets and popped them into their mouths.  I figured what berries were beyond their reach, the birds helped themselves to the rest.  So, it’s raspberry pickin’ time at the Park once again.  I saw this sapling just loaded with raspberries and noticed they appear to be two different types – hmm, a hybrid raspberry tree with both red and black berries on one tree.

Summer’s goodness … sunny days and sweet and juicy raspberries there for the taking.

This squirrel was feasting on those raspberries, having used some fancy footwork to secure a good foothold to enable him to reach those succulent berries.

I got out my camera and the squirrel was so busy enjoying his treat, that he was oblivious to me.  He was using the claws from his front paws to pluck off the berries and shoot them right into his mouth.  Though I didn’t get a good view of my furry friend’s face, I imagined berry juice squirting around his mouth, so that he looked like a little girl who got into her mother’s lipstick and smeared it in an uneven slash across her mouth.  Well, I was guilty of doing this when I was a little girl.  My mom only used makeup for special occasions, and when I was young, I got into her makeup bag in an effort to “look like Mommy” … that was a mistake because I got pancake makeup and lipstick all over the bathroom vanity and myself.  Oops!  And, I ended up getting a lickin’ for it too, but what little girl didn’t want to pretend she was all grown up?

The weather was just perfect this morning, so refreshing and it put some pep in my step, getting me five more miles under my belt toward my 2017 total tally.

With all the anticipation over the upcoming solar eclipse, I figured today was the perfect day to showcase sunflowers.

The status of these blooms above, just like my walking mileage, is “gettin’ there”.

As to me, I reached mile number 555 today, meaning just 200 more miles will get me my 2017 goal; so, yes … I’m “gettin’ there”.  I pushed myself hard today, and was weary after a six-mile journey, which included a walk to and from Council Point Park and five loops done there.  Whew!

These sunflowers pictured above are likewise “gettin’ there”; they are not at their peak yet, as their seeds are still forming and the “pan” of black seeds is not yet ripe for feasting.  Once the sunflower “faces”  are chockfull of ripe oilers, those black shiny seeds that our favorite backyard birds such as cardinals, jays and chickadees delight in, this garden will be the primo backyard on the block for wild birds.  The squirrels love them as well.

Back in 2010, I decided to try my hand at sunflowers in the backyard garden.  I was already catering to the birds with feeders, seed blocks and birdbaths, plus indulged the butterflies with coneflowers, sand watering stations and butterfly houses that the monarchs and swallowtails coveted.  The thought of luring more jays and cardinals to my yard made me happy, so I perused the sunflower seed packets and got the easiest to grow varieties.

I filled three large pots with “Holiday Sunflower” seeds for the back porch.  They grow to four feet and are bushy.  I also bought seeds for “Russian Mammoth Sunflowers” in which a single plant was guaranteed to grow 15 feet.  I spread those seeds in the garden and crossed my fingers for both.

The seeds in the pots took off and by early August I had goldfinches galore honing in on those tender seeds, and both they, and the flowers were a colorful addition to the back porch.  As you see below, the goldfinches would hang upside to reach the seeds, so they must’ve tasted like candy to them.

But, as to the sown seeds, well – it took forever to see any sprouts, then suddenly there were tiny seedlings.  I was ecstatic!  There were a half-dozen one day, and only one seedling the next day.  Grrr.  Those bunnies may be cute as a button, but they gobbled up those tender sunflower seedlings, just like they polished off all my Bleeding Hearts earlier in the Summer.

But, I was bound and determined to save the one Russian Mammoth Sunflower seedling that they missed.

So, I put an old jam jar over that remaining seedling to create a hothouse effect, and to thwart the bunnies.  Soon, it needed a big applesauce jar, then there were no jars big enough and that sunflower needed a stake, as it was growing about an inch a day.  It reminded me of the children’s tale “Jack and the Beanstalk”.

The potted sunflowers did reach about four feet high and produced pretty blooms, but lacked the big huge seed pan that you usually find by late Summer in most sunflowers.  But, the Russian Mammoth lived up to its name, and soon was towering as high as the garage of my neighbor behind.

I continued to monitor the daily progress of this plant, and its huge flower, especially the middle part that was brimming full of darkening black oiler seeds. And bees.  Boy, how the bees sure loved all those sunflowers, especially that not-quite-ripe seedy goodness.

I imagined a feast by the backyard birds and photo ops galore at the Russian Mammoth Sunflower.  But, one morning I went into the backyard to find the stalk crumpled in two, and the flower head on the ground, apparently a victim of that wealth of black oiler seeds.  Evidently, it had become top heavy and toppled over and a squirrel was sitting beside it, gorging himself on the contents.  That was the first and last time for sunflowers for this gardener.  But I do love looking at sunflowers, whether they are in a painting by Van Gogh, in a bouquet at the farmers market, or standing tall in the garden like these are.

I heard the solar eclipse tomorrow will cause the birds to stop singing and they will prepare to roost for the night, and other critters will similarly see the sudden darkness and become quiet, if not confused.

So, I guess the eclipse will likewise confound the lowly sunflower because those flowers always turn their “faces” toward the sun.

What will it do?  Where will it turn in that brief moment of darkness?  Will it droop downward?

Speaking of the sun, are you noticing how late it is rising these days?  Even if I didn’t see those first rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds, I know the angle of the sun is different when I am walking down the street these days, because the tree shadows are different.

Fall is a little over a month away and I find myself asking “where the heck did Summer go?”

Painter Vincent Van Gogh not only had an affinity for the moon and stars, but the sun as well.  I will leave you with this quote:

“The sun itself cannot make the world bright without souls to feel its light.”

Well, my boss has been vacationing in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula all this week.  I could have told you the weather would’ve been ugly at least a couple of the days, and sure enough it was.  Crummy weather always happens whenever Robb is out of the office and I have extra time for myself.

Tuesday morning I kept peering out the door as the weather folks said “rain by 9:00 a.m.” thus prompting me to think “should I stay or should I go?” …  you know me, I am such a weather worrier, but, not wanting to miss out on any miles, nor my morning walk, I threw caution to the wind, put on my raincoat, grabbed an umbrella and off I went.  My journey was short indeed, since I reached the end of the driveway and the first sprinkles started.  I hightailed it back inside the house like I was made of sugar, and soon a steady drizzle ensued.

I did get in a walk on Wednesday.

But Thursday, there were those pesky raindrops again, however, I had not suited up to go and was still in my jammies when that torrential rain began.  It never let up for at least an hour, giving our gardens and lawns a great soaking, but unfortunately, another walking day went down the drain for me.

Today Mother Nature cooperated, and I knew a trip to Council Point Park was in order.

I was happy for the stiff breeze and lack of humidity since I was loaded down with my usual “gear”, i.e. camera, phone, keys, pepper gel, plus peanuts in a mesh bag swinging from a clip on my fanny pack.  In my right hand I gripped a Meijer bag, which sagged with the weight of its contents … it was filled with painted rocks.

This morning I was not only at the Park for pleasure and to bulk up my miles, but I was also on a mission.  My dear friend Marge Aubin, who passed away on Monday, followed the “Downriver Rocks!” Facebook site, as do I, and she was totally immersed in this craze.  She had been painting rocks for weeks, and, at the beginning of August had sent me a message to ask if I could pick up her finished rocks sometime, then hide them at Council Point Park.  She added a postscript to that message:  “I’m no Picasso!”  That gave me a laugh, as I’m not either, though I dabbled in pastels and charcoals a wee bit back in my teens.  I promised to retrieve those decorated rocks and visit with her as well, but sadly that never happened, so her granddaughter, Monique, brought those creative gems to me so that I could complete her wish.

I began that mission  with 34 rocks, some painted with positive sayings like “Peace”, “Love” or “Smile” and others, which were festooned with bright colors and dots, swirls, googly eyes or glitter.

My goal was to be secretive, since I chat with so many of the walkers, that I didn’t want them to see me placing the rocks around the Park.  So, I went very early and made the rounds, trying not to draw attention to myself.  These blog post photos were not taken today, but during some of my many visits to Council Point Park.

My first stop was at the water fountain, which hasn’t worked in ages, so a dark blue stone with curlicues was placed near the spigot.

I hustled over to the pavilion area and set a pair of pretty, pale-blue polka-dotted rocks on a picnic table.

Next, I set one or two rocks on each of the many blue metal benches that I am always writing about, (hoping that my favorite squirrel didn’t think it was a nugget to chomp on, or hide away for the Winter).

The playground equipment was not in use, so I stole over to that area and was generous with my “droppings” to make the children happy.

I continued on my journey, passing the inline skating rink.

I left a large flat stone emblazoned with the word “Peace” at this rink which is dedicated to a fellow school chum, David Ward, Lincoln Park High School Class of ‘73, who was a fireman here in the City, and died of cancer in 1999.

More rocks were dispensed in dribs and drabs, in some of the nooks and crannies that are off the beaten path – no use in making it too easy for everyone to find them all in one morning, right?

By the second time around the entire walking path, I noticed some rocks were missing, and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw other walkers eyeing those objects strewn along the side of the trail as they neared them, then bending over and picking them up.

The early a.m. Park visit, and, the fact that I kept mum on who was dropping the rocks, allowed me to pull off that secret mission, with no one any the wiser, except perhaps that green heron who was sunning itself on the cement precipice and eyeing me warily.  This must be its regular roosting site now.  That green heron suddenly took flight because I startled it, after carefully climbing down the steep grassy slope so I could set that 34^th and final rock, with the cheerful message “Smile” on the cement landing near the Ecorse Creek.

Mission accomplished:  four miles walked and many rocks hidden for Marge, often my own rock, throughout the years.

Today my heart is heavy and my cheeks are damp from tears rolling down from my eyes, because I lost a friend and good neighbor that I have had the pleasure of knowing for twenty-five years.

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you have seen the name “Marge Aubin” peppered throughout my blog posts during the past 4 ½ years.  Marge fought a tough battle with COPD; that long struggle has ended and she passed away peacefully early this morning.

Marge and my mom and I shared many special moments through the years – there were good times and bad.  We supported one another’s families through losses, and there have been many.   After I lost my mom in 2010, Marge told me I should consider her family as my family, and they have all treated me as such.

It was Marge who was at the hospital E.R. with me when I was told my mom would likely not survive the night … she gripped my hand very tightly and spoke to me in her cool, calm manner.  She was with me as we went to make the final arrangements for my mom as well.

There were other loved ones I lost and Marge was there to console me, like after my beloved bird Sugar suddenly died the same year as my mom passed away.  My heart was broken.  Likewise when she took me to the vet to have Buddy euthanized, because I did not trust myself to drive there.  All those were sad times for me, but there are a wealth of happy memories as well.  Marge and I shared a love of nature and there were treks to Elizabeth Park and frequent trips to Bishop Park to watch the freighters go by and just talk.

Marge enjoyed going to the riverfront, and especially loved to watch the sun rise as she sipped coffee down at Bishop Park in Wyandotte.  For many years, she headed out the door and down to the riverfront in the still of night.  There she would sit, coffee cup in one hand, digital camera in the other, and she would capture images like this one above.

If not for Marge, I would never have started this blog.  One day she forwarded a blog post written by a woman who described the beautiful fields of heather in Scotland.  Then she asked me “why don’t you write a blog like this – talk about nature and what you see when you’re walking?”

And so this blog began on February 11, 2013.

I have twenty-two people who subscribe to this WordPress blog, and from this group, two people have regularly commented on my daily posts – Marge, and my fellow walking pal, Ann Marie Stevens.

Now I have lost that constant commentary from Marge on the finished blog posts, plus, I often solicited her opinion when I gave her a sneak preview of that day’s blog post photos which I’d upload to Shutterfly and send along to ask which was her favorite of the bunch.

Like me, Marge had a profound appreciation of nature, and loved the squirrels and birds in her backyard, and, she especially delighted in those hummingbirds that frequented the many hummer feeders around the outside of her home.  Sadly, in the past few years, Marge was relegated to the inside looking out, so she was content to enjoy those hummingbirds at her front window where she could view them from her easy chair, or, on her back deck where she watched them from the kitchen while having breakfast.  How often my heart ached for her, as she had been a very outgoing person until just a few years ago when COPD ravaged her lungs and left her on an oxygen machine 100% of the time.  But, still she ventured out, when she was able, to take short trips to Bishop Park or Elizabeth Park.  She vicariously enjoyed my recent posts to those venues, and told me she wished she had been there with me.

I found out about her passing from her son Jeff shortly before I left on my walk this morning.  He was outside getting some fresh air, making and taking phone calls and gave me the sad news, and I told him I’d connect with him after I returned from my walk, and I did.  I know on that walk that I absorbed nothing, but merely moved forward, taking steps like an automaton … one foot ahead of the other.  I got those three loops walked and then headed back home, five miles done, but there was no joy in my journey.  Were the birds even singing, the squirrels chattering or clambering down a tree to greet me?  All I remember is seeing the asphalt perimeter path through eyes clouded by tears.

My initial numbness over learning of Marge’s passing has now been replaced with grief, as I realize that my sounding board, a woman with whom I shared confidences and dreams, not to mention gripes, is no longer there for me.  I sound a little selfish in saying that I suppose.  There will be no more passing cute animal stories or beautiful bird pictures along to her to make her smile and ooh and ahh over.

Sadly, Marge did not live long enough to see today’s sunrise from her hospital window, nor her beloved Bishop Park, as she passed away at 5:05 a.m. in Wyandotte Hospital, just a stone’s throw away from her favorite go-to spot.  So, I will post this one last sunrise photo for her and hopefully she is looking down on me and saying “thanks for doing that for me Linda” … rest in peace my good friend Marjorie Jean Aubin.

“So dawn goes down to day.  Nothing gold can stay.”  ~ Robert Frost

I often do my best thinking while walking, especially on a Sunday morning when there are less people pounding the pavement at my favorite nature nook.

My musings this morning occurred as I passed the wildflowers and weeds that are in full bloom now throughout the Park.  I decided that, were it not for the allergy shots I’ve gotten for decades, walking in Council Point Park would not be half as pleasurable, even on a picture-perfect, weather-perfect day like we had today.

For years, August was a month of horrors … red and watery eyes, a running nose, and my throat felt so itchy that I used to down large spoonfuls of Grape Nuts cereal, as those little nuggets seemed to sooth that itchy throat and make it feel better.

One of my customers who had regularly eaten at the diner where I worked weekends and Summers while attending college, would see me standing waiting for the bus on Fort Street to go downtown to WSU, then after graduation, to work.  He would often stop and pick me up.  Harry Matelski lived on Grosse Ile and was a VP at Winkelman’s woman’s apparel store, and his office was at their headquarters on Woodward Avenue.  He preferred taking Fort Street to jumping on the expressway.  What a treat to have “the big ride” in his Cadillac, as opposed to the cramped suburban bus, which, in those days, often smelled of diesel fumes, had no A/C, and half the time the windows didn’t work and were stuck in an all-the-way-open, or all-the-way-shut position.  Before Harry, after my morning commute, I’d arrive at school or work a sniffling and sneezing mess.

Of course, I would whine incessantly about those Summertime allergies and how miserable late Summer was, but, as my parents would remind me … it didn’t stop me from going to Pine Knob where my friends and I regularly had lawn seats.

My grandmother had the same hayfever symptoms come August and would similarly sneeze her head off … her sneezes came in rapid succession.  She often lamely joked that with her already-existing heart problems, a series of successive sneezes might prove fatal to her one day.

I finally started seeing an allergist and took shots in each arm (a/k/a as allergen immunotherapy) for twenty years.  Then my allergist retired and he said I could stop the shots, as I’d not had symptoms for years.  But, those sneezes and sniffles returned nearly ten years later, this time as early Spring allergies, not late Summer allergies like I had before.  Go figure.

The allergy shots regimen round #2 is successful, and, I’m happy to say that not a single sneeze has occurred at Council Point Park –  not in early Spring when the grass is lush and green, nor now, when the Park is full of weeds, like this Queen Anne’s Lace pictured above.

Every time I see Queen Anne’s Lace, I travel back in time to recall picking some and presenting it to my mom one time.  “Flowers from the meadow” I said and handed them to her.  She accepted that bundle of dainty weeds, which I had paired with other “wildflower” weeds, but, then, after thanking me, she gently told me that the pretty purple-blue chicory, bright-yellow buttercups and dainty Queen Anne’s Lace were not really flowers, but weeds.  Well, that was a letdown to me, but at least Mom was diplomatic about her “gift” wasn’t she?

Queen Anne’s Lace is really no slouch when it comes to weeds though … it does deserve some recognition besides the moniker of “weed”.  After all, it is a butterfly magnet, especially for swallowtails, like the butterfly I featured in a recent blogpost, plus, it was named after England’s Queen Anne, who was reportedly an expert lace maker.

Queen Anne’s Lace always reminds me of the decorative doilies under the colonial-style lamps in the living room.  These two doilies are relics and have some sentimental value.  They were tatted by my great grandmother.  She took up that hobby when she had to forsake a good deal of her farmhouse chores, after she was saddling up the buggy horse to go to church and Mabel was suddenly spooked by something, reared up, then came down with one hoof on the top of my grandmother’s foot.  She was laid up a long time, then never walked properly after that incident.  Besides baking, she filled her days with quilting, embroidering and tatting.

Today’s weather was perfect and I got another five miles added to my walking tally for 2017.  I originally intended to head to Heritage Park in Taylor since it was such a refreshing and glorious day, but, the Little League World Series is being held there today through next Sunday and I thought it might be too crowded.

So, off I headed to my favorite go-to place … Heritage Park can wait for another time.

I hit the ground running this morning as it was my first weekend without any big chores to keep me hunkered inside the house.  Besides, who knows if every weekend will be perfect weather-wise going forward … so, you seize the moment, right?

As I was lacing up my walking shoes, I decided today’s destination would be Elizabeth Park in Trenton.  I had not been there in a few years and that was with my friend Marge, on a cold and blustery day in November.  We had hoped to get some nice pictures of the Fall colors, but instead, we looked out the car windows rather wistfully at the colorful leaves whipping themselves into a frenzy as they raced across the grass.  So much for our Fall foliage photos.

Once I arrived at Elizabeth Park, I wasn’t real sure of my bearings, so I parked near the dining hall Chateau on the River, so I could find my way back to the car when I was done walking.  Unlike Council Point Park, which is basically two asphalt loops which resemble a lopsided-looking figure eight, Elizabeth Park has a looped vehicular drive which encircles the entire Park.  On one side it is woodsy looking, and on the opposite side, you get a great view of the water and the marina.

So, I walked along the skinny sidewalk that is designated for pedestrians and bicyclists.  I figured I’d walk four or five miles and explore a little as I went along.

Shortly into my excursion, I saw a set of rickety-looking concrete steps and went down them as there was a footbridge just across the grassy expanse and I wanted to cross it.

I climbed up the footbridge, lightly holding onto the black wrought-iron railing with its ornate design and curlicues at the base, and looked up and down the waterway.  I saw a pair of kayakers in the distance.  I watched them and they were so in tune with one another, as they rhythmically dipped each side of the oar into the water to propel themselves forward.

I took some pictures of them as they got closer to me, and just before they disappeared under the bridge where I was standing, one of them looked up and called out to me “so which magazine cover will we be appearing on?”  I smiled and told them I was a walker, not a kayaker, and they would be featured in in my walking blog that day, amongst whatever other sights, people and/or critters that I came across.  They laughed good naturedly and told me to have a great day and soon they exited from under the bridge.  I watched them until they were nearly out of sight.

Then, I carefully climbed back down those shallow footbridge steps and headed over to introduce myself to a woman who was using a long-handled metal detector.  I’d seen her in the distance from the bridge, and, at first, I thought she was weed whipping near the base of the steps, until I got closer and realized she was using a gizmo to search for metal in the grass.  I asked her if she had uncovered any treasures today, and she told me “all I have found was three cents so far” and we spoke about several instances in the Downriver area in recent weeks, where people had lost cherished possessions at concert venues in big parks.  One was a memorial necklace with a pendant containing a baby’s cremains and the other was a wedding ring.  The necklace was found and the owner located, and that was a trending topic in the Downriver crime sites and this human interest story similarly made the local newspaper.  The woman told me she had searched for the missing ring on her own to no avail.  We chatted it up, I took her photo, then I climbed up the stairs and back onto the pathway on the vehicular road once again.

I roamed around, weaving in and out of the wooded areas, feeding a few squirrels and admiring a gaggle of geese who decided they were too pooped to participate in grazing this morning and were just taking it easy.  Perhaps they were casualties of those lazy, hazy, crazy days of Summer that Nat King Cole crooned about.

Actually, there were dozens of geese, unlike at Council Point Park, where I’ve just seen them overhead of late, and not in the grassy areas near the perimeter path like earlier in the year.

I was going to check out the ponies in the livery stable, but it was deserted until later in the day according to the sign.

There were unique-looking exercise stations along the way, and some of those stations had equipment that looked a little strange, but each came with a description of what the equipment did, just in case you weren’t sure (like this one below).

I meandered along the trails in the wooded area, thoroughly enjoying myself, then headed over to the marina.  Just like at Bishop Park, it was great to stroll along the waterfront and see all the people enjoying themselves on this fine Summer day.

Before I knew it I was back at my starting point, and, when I checked the pedometer, I knew I needed to bulk up my miles some more, so I did a second go-around the entire circular driving loop.  The speed limit is only 15 mph, but you have to watch for cars and maintenance vehicles.

While walking, I was thinking about the first time I visited Elizabeth Park.  It was the year we moved to the States – 1966.  My parents made it a destination for a “Sunday drive” … that got me thinking whether people still go on a “Sunday drive” anymore?  Probably not, after you battle the traffic jams all week long, and, for us Downriver folks, just travelling on Southbound Fort Street these days is like rolling along a major highway due to the River Rouge Bridge Project.  But, we’d often go to Elizabeth Park, stopping first at the outskirts of that venue to buy root beer floats or soft-serve ice-cream cones.

I wondered if I went on the pony rides or if I was too old for them by that time?

Life becomes a blur sometimes when you look back a half-century ago (groan).