WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

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.

Well, there were two events marking this 14^th 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 4^th 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!

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.

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.

Two days of extremely warm weather and a lot of rain have awakened the buds on the trees and bushes. They are slowly coming back to life with tiny leaves that are starting to unfurl.  From a distance, there is a slight greenish tinge surrounding those predominantly still-bare branches.  I passed a few magnolia trees and their buds were open slightly, lending a pink glow to the still-drab landscape.  And, how about those weeping cherry trees, just dripping with pale blossoms?

Ahh Spring, you make my heart sing.

We knew those Summer-like storms last night would happen; they were the penalty for a pair of delightful, but, overly warm days for early April. While it may have dawned clear but overcast this morning, yesterday’s thundershowers left their mark in large puddley potholes, or, as pools of water on the sidewalks, which walkways I was obligated to share with the worms.  The worms were everywhere once again, and they were all sitting ducks, just waiting for the Robins to gobble them up as quickly as their spindly legs could hop over there.  Those red-breasted birds will feast ‘til they burp, slurping the worms, like we kids used to suck down our spaghetti noodles when Mom wasn’t watching.

Good thing I don’t have an aversion to worms or their ilk.

I tolerate them, just as one would deal with a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater should that creature ever cross your path.

The Park was peaceful and the walkers were plentiful this morning, which was surprising, given the still-damp condition of the perimeter path. But, we are all creatures of habit, and there was no precip this morning, so we laced up our respective walking shoes, and gathered at the Park – a group of strangers getting their infusion of nature while stomping out a few miles.  The birds were singing in the trees, and it was all good, until the tree cutters started up their chainsaws in a nearby yard.  I didn’t even see the crew assembled around a huge tree, until the chainsaws interrupted the peaceful morning.

The Easter holiday is slowly creeping up on us. I made my annual pilgrimage to my friend and neighbor Marge’s house to drop off her Easter treat.  This is a longstanding tradition between us which goes back around twenty years.  We keep it simple … tradition is important.

No, there was no fanfare or big extravaganza involved here. No elaborate Easter basket filled with treats or trinkets nestled in cellophane grass and a tall chocolate bunny presiding over those goodies.  Nor was there a box or fancy bag festooned with curling ribbon.

It was simply a box of Peeps marshmallow chicks dropped into a plastic Meijer bag and tied onto the handle of her screen door.

For Easter 2017, it was purple Peeps:

So, I guess that once Marge breaks open the cellophane and bites into one of those purple marshmallow chicks, she would be classified as a hazel-eyed, no-horned, armchair-sittin’ purple Peep eater?

This Peep-giving ritual began two decades ago, when Marge lent me her two-tier, wrought-iron outdoor table, so I could feed the birds and squirrels during the Winter in my backyard. Of course, you knew I didn’t feed only the birds and squirrels at Council Point Park.  No, I began that ritual eons ago in the backyard.  I wasn’t big on a more-traditional means of feeding the birds, because, no matter whether you use baffles, or squirrel-blocking cage devices on your bird feeders, those pesky squirrels always maneuver to find a way to alight on the feeder and feast upon those seeds.  I even tried the Birdola seeds blocks, suspended on a clothesline, only to find I had not foiled the squirrels because there they were, shimmying up the shiny metal pole and gingerly walking the “tightrope” to access the seed block.

In nice weather, I fed the birds their cut-up bread and the squirrels their peanuts before I left for work, but in Winter, it would be pitch dark in the morning and at night when I returned home. In the a.m., I had a bus to catch, so there was precious little time to spend loading a birdfeeder, so, I was hurrying out the door, then quickly I would fill the makeshift “feeders” and off to work I went.

The plan to feed the backyard critters all year ‘round was brilliant – at least I thought so anyway. I borrowed Marge’s ornamental table, and went and bought two perforated pizza pans, one 15-inch pan, and a smaller 12-inch pan.  I then laced long fuzzy pipe cleaners through the pizza pans and fastened one pan onto each table tier.  The top tier pan would hold bread tidbits for the birds; the bottom tier pan would be full of peanuts for the squirrels.  No birdfeeders to mess with or squirrels hijacking the feeders for their own use.  The squirrels got their treat and weren’t all that interested in bread tidbits.  We bought the bread in bulk … inexpensive, day-old loaves of bread from the nearby Wonder Bread outlet, and stocked up on oyster crackers in case we didn’t get to the bread store.  Peanuts were bought in bulk and similarly stashed away.  I fed them daily.

Come Spring, I removed the pans and tossed them in the trash, getting new ones the following Fall. I scrubbed up the table and returned it to Marge, accompanied by a box of Peeps – it was a thank you from the birds and me.  And, oh yes … the squirrels as well.

Back in those days, Peeps were only available in yellow – now they come in many colors, according to the holiday season. They also morph sometimes into rabbits.

But, Marge has always loved eating those Peeps and got a great big smile on her face from the gesture (and a sugar high to boot).

As neighbors, we’ve made memories and shared many tasty treats through the years. A half of an angel cake, or a third of a mince pie, or … even tomatoes or cukes, still warm from the Summer sun,  have been stuffed into a plastic store bag and tied onto our respective screen door handles.

Share and share alike is a mantra for family, good friends, or neighbors … or, for a person who is really all of the above.

Borrowing a cup of sugar for a recipe? Nope, we’ve never done that!  Meanwhile, my lips are sealed and I’m not saying a Peep about all those goodies shared or exchanged and enjoyed these past 25 years, not to mention the calories!

… a green and yellow basket.

I was thinking of that childhood rhyme this afternoon while attending the City of Lincoln Park’s annual Easter Egg Hunt over at Memorial Park. I have always wanted to go check it out and it was such a beautiful day, I made sure to get over there.

But, first things first … before I watched Peter Cottontail hopping down the bunny trail, I headed over to my own favorite trail at Council Point Park.

I left later than usual, and, once again it was family time at the Park.

There was a father and son taking what might have been their first bicycle ride together. The dad was perched on his mountain bike, and the young son had his hands in a death-grip on the handlebars of a small bike with training wheels.  I smiled as he rode by, his confidence growing when he managed to give the occasional toot of the bike’s horn (giving the geese some competition for loud noise in the peaceful Park).

Then, a mother-daughter combo were on rollerblades. Clearly, it was the little girl’s first time and her mom was encouraging her to “skate to Mom” – the youngster, with her arms spread out like she would soon take flight, was shuffling along, ever so slowly, on those rollerblades.  I did get a big smile from mom and daughter when I told the little girl she was much braver than I’d ever be, as me on rollerblades would soon become a wet spot on the pavement.

The squirrels were out in full force and rushing to gather ‘round me for their treats, and I was happy to oblige them, as usual. I took some pictures of those peanut pals to use on future blogs – of course, you can never have too many squirrels-on-haunches-with-the-I’m-here-for-the-treats-whatcha-got-for-me look photos.

I meandered along, enjoying the warm breeze, and I ditched the Summer windbreaker I had worn, and tied it around my waist before the first loop was completed.

I next watched a pair of Canada Geese come straight out of the sky and make a rather awkward landing, skidding along the top of the water while honking at one another at splashdown. They were a little unsettled, and continued honking until the water was still, then they swam on like nothing had happened.  They paused to get a drink of water, and I watched the pair dipping their slim necks deep into the murky Creek water, so their entire heads disappeared.  I was waiting to watch them emerge, camera in hand, when a man’s voice called to me “quick, look above at what you are missing!”  I looked up and saw nothing, and, then he said “wait, he is circling – get your camera ready … it’s a big hawk!”  So, I paused and waited awhile, but the hawk did not return.  I ambled on, then thanked him for pointing my gaze upward.  He said “he’s scouting for little dogs, children and squirrels” and I replied “hopefully not any of the ones in that bunch I just fed, because they were so focused on the peanuts, they would not be in tune with the hawk’s presence.”  He then said he was just kidding (but I’m not so sure about that).

But, I kept an eye to the sky and still no hawk. Then, when I was on the opposite side, there he was, a huge wingspan, gliding effortlessly in the flawless blue sky.  How majestic, but I was in the wrong place to get a picture.  There were no shade trees to shield me from the sun’s rays, and with this point-and-shoot camera, all I could see were my glasses, nose and mouth peering back at me.

So, I shot blindly, pointing the camera to the sky and clicking off about six shots.

I continued on my way, and, since I had taken the car for a spin and parked at the Park, I could do two complete loops today. On the second loop, I saw them.  Two of them – a pair of hawks gliding across the sky.  And, this time I was in a better spot, and ducked under a tree and took in their beauty, then got a few pictures.  I wondered if they were mates, as one was much larger than the other, but, I was truly awestruck by the size and the wingspan of those hawks.

After leaving the peaceful Park, I returned home and walked over to Memorial Park for the Egg Hunt. I got there a few minutes before the event began and it was really busy.

They had two large areas staked out by caution tape, to be used according to age groups, and the grass was liberally strewn with colorful plastic eggs.  The eggs were filled with candy and trinkets and the idea was to fill your basket with as many eggs as possible once the event began.

Unfortunately, a few tykes wandered under the caution tape, and began filling their basket with eggs before the event started, so a little hand slapping was in order by the mayor over the loudspeaker. Oops!

Time was called in mere minutes and the grass was no longer laden with eggs, as they had been scooped up and stuffed into wooden baskets, plush bunny buckets, or even plastic Meijer bags – it didn’t matter what type of container or flimsy bag held those eggs, as I watched the children as they sifted through their cache of colored eggs, admiring each one like it was the finest Faberge egg.

But, the real star of the show was not Mayor Karnes who was emceeing the event, but the Easter Bunny, who waved to everyone, and alternately dispensed hugs or high fives to those who were not intimidated by his presence.

After collecting their eggs, kids were invited to pose with the Easter Bunny and parents stood by, ready to capture the image with their smartphone or digital camera.  Some kids seemed bewildered, or stayed back a few paces while looking like an outburst of tears was imminent; still others were only too happy to snuggle up to the likeable E.B.  I laughed, as did others in the crowd, when one youngster ran up and hugged the Easter Bunny’s knees … well, there’s a warm and fuzzy moment if there ever was one.

It was a stupendous weather day and the perfect way to start off Easter week. If you’ve never heard the song “A-tisket, a-tasket” you might as well get an earworm like I have and head over here to feel like a kid again: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xb5yuhgKgKc

Whenever I open the screen door to step outside these days, it’s a sure bet that a Robin will be sitting on the cyclone fence, a scowl on its face, and a steely stare that is aimed in my general direction.

This is because there is bad blood between these red-breasted birds and me, and, they will never forget that I’ve wreaked havoc on their happy home multiple times through the years. So, my dear Robins … guilt me if you must, but my stance doesn’t change.

If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you know that I wage an annual battle with the Robins once Spring arrives, as they try their best to build a nest in the elbow of the coach light in the front of the house. They’ll set up a nest over the course of the day, constructing it of twigs, mud and dried grass.  The nest is very large and sturdy, and, although the construction is admirable, many of the nest fixin’s usually end up on the mailbox lid.  There will be big drops of  mud with embedded twigs and grass caked on the lid.  Mud splatters are also down the wall, even on the porch, not to mention bird droppings!  Rather than sweep down the nest every day, I’ve taken to plugging up the coach light elbow area with bags filled with newspapers and pinwheels poked into the bags.  It looks pretty silly, but it works and keeps any further nest-building at bay.  Then come mid-June, the contraption can be taken down.

It certainly is not because I don’t like birds … I just have no patience with these Robins and their mess every Spring. Last year, due to our mild weather, they started the nest-building efforts in March.

Of course, the Robins sense my dislike of their cozy home. Yup,  it is no secret, and, I guess I am giving them the evil eye or bad vibes, thus, the perpetual scowl whenever I cross their paths.

But, as much as I disdain those red-breasted birds, their surly attitudes and bossiness of inviting themselves to move on in, my friend and next-door neighbor, Marge, embraces the idea of the anticipation of new life and little ones in a natural habitat mere inches from her own living quarters.  She does not take an attitude, nor a broom, when any bird comes a’callin’ and builds its nest at her house.

So, this is probably why Mama Mourning Dove misappropriated Marge’s empty mesh wire planter, as a safe haven to lay her eggs, keep them warm and await the hatching of her brood. Marge was ecstatic, and, in researching Mourning Dove breeding habits, Marge discovered, that after the eggs were laid, both Mama and Papa Dove take turns incubating the eggs.  Papa takes the day shift; Mama pulls the all-nighter.  While their mate is keeping the eggs warm, the other is out foraging for food.  Marge sent me this picture of the Mourning Dove feeling safe in the ornamental basket that is tucked on the top shelf of a wrought-iron gazebo.  This might have been Papa pictured above since it was daylight. By Marge’s calculations, the hatching may take place on Good Friday.  Precious new life … just perfect for Spring.

Meanwhile, we might still be waiting on April the Giraffe and her calf to be born.

Though the day started out ugly and gray, cold and windy, and, without a single redeeming reason to lure me out for a walk, at least it was not raining, or snowing, or “snaining” as the late, eccentric weatherman Sonny Eliot used to refer to that unique combo of rain and snow.

I stepped out anyway, thankful it was dry, and, by the time I returned, I swear that the sky was a beautiful Robin’s egg blue. One look at that pretty blue sky, then I immediately glanced up to the coach light.  Whew, no untoward activity going on there – yet.

This weekend promises to be just spectacular, especially Palm Sunday which will be sunny and 70 degrees. Perfect for walking – I can’t wait.

I was ready to get going just as soon as it was light out. After all, today is the American Heart Association’s 10^th annual “National Walking Day”.

However, before setting out to pound the pavement, I did a quick inspection:

Camera? – Check.

Pedometer? – Check.

Peanuts? – Check.

Okay, good to go.

I left earlier than usual to give the car a run, then parked at Council Point Park, thus giving myself enough time for two complete loops at my favorite go-to spot for walking and enjoying nature … for me, it is the best of both worlds.

Even though it was brisk, at least today’s weather was better than Tuesday morning . If you like alliteration … yesterday’s walking weather was warm, wet, windy and wormy.

I wasn’t the only walker celebrating the day devoted to walkers old and young. Before I ambled too far along the twists and turns of the perimeter path, I unzipped my jacket so I had handy access to the camera should I need it.

I tossed out peanuts here and there to the usual peanut pals that ran over to greet me. I saw a squirrel high up in a tree and rattled my Ziploc bag to get his (or her) attention and entice that furry critter to come down to ground level.  But, he didn’t budge, so perhaps he liked the view up there, and, probably knew I was foolish enough to leave a little pile of peanuts for him anyway, whether he was lazy and took his time, or he scrambled right down the tree.  Perhaps he knew it was a workday and I didn’t have time to linger?

So, I left three peanuts at the side of the path, and, just as I tossed them onto the asphalt, a beautiful Red-Winged Blackbird swooped down from the same tree – no slacker was he! That beautiful bird then sauntered over and pecked at a peanut, grabbed it in his beak and flew back up to the tree.  Well, that took me aback, and I figured he just did that to spite the silly, sloth-like squirrel who still lazed around on that tree branch.  In all the time I’ve spent at Council Point Park, I’ve never seen a Red-Winged Blackbird go after peanuts.  (Of course, I Googled when I got online, and sure enough – this species enjoys peanuts.)  Who knew that a marsh-living bird would favor peanuts over grubs and berries … any port in a storm I guess.  There are no grubs out yet, and no berry bushes in the Park that I’ve ever seen.

Time to move on, so “ya snooze, ya lose” I called up to the squirrel before getting back to my walk. It didn’t faze him in the least.

Spring is loading slowly at the Park, and a few trees are beginning to bud and show tiny leaves and the grass is even beginning to green up.

All too soon, a pair of figure eight loops were walked and a blog post was bubbling around in my head – unbelievably this is my 900^th post on my “Walkin’, Writin’, Wit & Whimsy” blog since I began blogging at WordPress on February 11, 2013!

Twitter was trending as to #NationalWalkingDay and I discovered a factoid that I must share. According to one study, walking can boost creative thinking by up to 60%.   Hmmmm.  More walking = more blog posts … well, aren’t  you all lucky!?

I headed home, thankful for the ambiance at the nature nook, and with an even bigger bounce in my step than I had left with.

[Image by Aurelia-ev from Pixabay]

Even though our daytime temps flirted with the 60-degree mark two months ago, (a fact which we all knew was a fluke for February in Southeast Michigan), to me, today felt like the first real Spring day.

So, here we are on the cusp of baseball season, and, those dreary, rain-filled days are a distant memory, perhaps Spring fever might finally be settling in.

Today I left for my walk later than usual to bask in the mid-day warmth, and, just by stepping outside, Spring assailed my senses.

First, I opened the screen door and automatically glanced over to my neighbor Marge’s big thermometer, and, yes … it was already well over 50 degrees and the sun was shining brightly in the blue sky.

But, something caught my eye besides just that thermometer that is mounted on the wooden deck. It was Mama Mourning Dove who was perched on the top bar of the glider where she could monitor the egg resting in the nest she had so carefully crafted.  This little feathered lady found herself an ornamental mesh wire basket that is tucked away onto the top shelf of a wrought-iron gazebo.  Marge’s son, Jeff, discovered the nest and egg yesterday.  So now, we can all watch and wait for the hatching of one, or maybe more, baby doves.

After shutting the screen door, as I walked to the garage to run the car, I could not help but notice my neighbor across the street rolling a huge black motorcycle out of the garage and onto the driveway. I’ve often heard that motorcycle, but never saw its owner.  So, while I ran the car in the garage, I glanced across the street in my rearview mirror.  I saw a selfie being taken, then, while watching her reflection in the kitchen window, the helmet was donned after tucking her hair carefully beneath it.  The kickstand went up, and soon that Motorcycle Mama took off with a loud vroom.

I shut the garage and walked down the driveway, as I still heard the rumble of that big machine in the distance, long after she had turned the corner.

As I mentioned above, I think our weather also has turned a corner. Within a block, I’d shed my gloves, depositing them in the bag I was using to carry not one, but two, Ziploc bags of peanuts for the squirrels at Council Point Park.  I was feeling generous today, since last time they were clamoring for more, and I hate to disappoint them.  To ensure I don’t run out for future forays to the Park, I bought another two large bags when I went grocery shopping yesterday.

Two blocks later, the hat came off and was similarly shoved into the bag, then my coat was off and looped around my waist. At that rate, I probably should have just headed back home and ditched those clothes, but I stayed the course.

Nothing signals Spring’s arrival like the first day the forsythia bushes begin to bloom. I passed dozens of homes with that touch of bright-yellow on their property – how welcome those golden dabs are in the still-drab landscape!

I walked leisurely, enjoying the birdsong that came from every tree I passed.

No rest on Sunday for the woodpeckers, who were hard at work, rat-a-tat-tatting while drilling holes with their beaks in their favorite tree.

I smelled that smoky burn of charcoal briquettes and saw a plume of dark smoke wafting from a backyard kettle grill.

And, as I neared Council Point Park, I heard the squeals of laughter by children at the playground equipment, where they queued up and disappeared down into the tunnels of the covered, curvy slides.

Once I got to the Park, I found the parking lot full. It was Sunday strolling for many families who walked the perimeter path with babies in strollers, or tots toddling at their heels.  Older children passed me on bicycles, their wheels whirring on the perimeter path as they zoomed by.

For once, the squirrels did not wage a full-on attack once they saw me. I was a little disappointed, but soon realized it was because I was not the only one tendering treats today.  A trio of women brought lots of peanuts and each was tossing them out while simultaneously snapping photos with a smartphone.  Just like when I feed them and have my camera in tow, those eager squirrels were only too happy to rush over and swarm around those women to get their share of peanuts and pose for the obligatory photos.

When I got to the second loop of the perimeter path, I found a pair of eager squirrels who rushed on over, thus helping to quickly repair my wounded feelings.

The tree that snapped in two and was the subject of a recent blog post is still there, its top half remaining submerged in the murky waters of the Creek.

The sunshine and warm day brought out the best in people, and even the pooches accompanying their masters, were wagging their tails … yup, everyone was enjoying their Spring Fling.

What more could we ask for on this first Sunday in April?

I did two complete loops today, which, including my roundtrip from home is five miles. I felt like I could have walked more, but didn’t want to overdo it.  As I got to the end of the second loop, one of the many memorial trees on the grounds got my attention with its new and beautiful silk flower arrangement at the base, with a very lifelike butterfly hovering nearby.

I realized then, that flowers and butterflies were the only things missing from this beautiful Spring day. But, we all have patience – this is Michigan after all, and, in a couple of more months, flowers and butterflies also will be present and accounted for.

Well, this morning I felt like a little kid again, succumbing to the many puddles that had collected in the sidewalks enroute to the railroad tracks in Wyandotte. I was not surprised to see so many gigantic puddles, given the intensity of the rain yesterday, plus, there were at least three thunderstorms that I counted.

Well, no need to complain about all that rain – besides, that could have been snowflakes falling from the sky, and, in fact they had snow and hail in the northern ‘burbs. Whew, glad it was not us!

All Winter I’ve been amused by this yard ornament pictured above. That’s because, thankfully, the snow never made it to the top of that snowman yardstick.  It never even came close.  Global warming or we were just lucky?

As to the weather, just like on the first day of March, I have yet to hear a peep today about whether this month is going to exit like a lamb or a lion. Given the rain today, I’m going to say that March departs like a docile lamb.

When I stepped outside and didn’t feel any droplets of rain, I hustled out and ran the car and was soon on my way. There was a worm explosion last night, or early this morning, since the sidewalks were jam packed with baby worms crawling around; they were unsure whether to duck back into the grass, or simply slither along the concrete with their brethren.

As I passed Ford Park, I glanced over and there were a multitude of low spots in the vast fields, because massive pools of standing water were everywhere. I noted that the robins were gleeful about all the pools of water  – it was like going to the country club for them.  Those red-breasted birds were either bathing in the puddles, or simply sipping the clear water and supping on worms.

Walking up and down Emmons took some careful planning to avoid getting my shoes soaking wet, and, I soon found myself sidestepping puddles to step on grassy/muddy lawns, or just walking in the street.  I’m not in favor of the latter choice, since Emmons is a fairly busy street, especially on a weekday, but, that is how I navigated around for the most part.  I finally tired of dodging mud puddles and detected a spritz or two of rain droplets dancing on my nose, so I turned around and picked my way back home again.

A glance at the sky told me those clouds might contain plenty more precip, and, we were, after all, due for a rainy day once again. I felt lucky to have eked out a walk.  The sky sure was dark and ominous looking.  I think the solution to brighten up the sky is to take all those yellow crayons that Crayola has deemed a “dud” color, and use that hue (“Dandelion”) to color some sunbeams into that gloomy-looking  canvas above.  (So there Crayola!)

I arrived home, without the rain having spoiled my walk, or gotten my clothing wet, but my shoes were covered with mud splatters and red tree dander was embedded in the soles. I really do covet a mud room – perhaps in my next life (or next home).  I would like to just traipse into the house, park my butt onto a bench, then remove my boots or shoes, without standing on one leg like a flamingo to do so.  Not to mention that the landing is a very small area to move around and not tumble down the cellar stairs.  But, rest assured, never again will I walk upstairs with my outside shoes on … not after I spent a weekend getting the carpeting, rugs and floor all spiffed up.