WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I noticed that over the weekend many homeowners in the ‘hood hauled out their harvest and Halloween décor to give a touch of Fall flair to their front yards, even though the official event is still two days away. Scarecrows stand at attention looking over the remains of Mr. Bones, mock gravestones, mischievous monsters and ghoulish ghosts and goblins. Mums are popping up all over in gardens or have replaced the bedraggled-looking petunias in porch pots, which were on their last leg from that recent heat spell.

The nippy temps were evident when I set out this morning, but the pale sun warmed me up slowly as I walked down to, and then around Council Point Park. All the weather forecasters are promising a week of gorgeous weather and I am hopeful to reach my goal of 500 miles walked before month end … I have my fingers crossed to do this anyway.

Saturday was a lost cause for walking in the morning due to the rain, so I tried to recoup lost steps yesterday and today.

Sunday I went grocery shopping, so I racked up nearly five miles by walking laps around the perimeter of the store, plus gathering groceries and then schlepping them into the house.

Meijer was in full-blown Autumn mode.

As I travelled past the Yankee candles I inhaled deeply to immerse myself in the intoxicating scents. Besides the usual fragrances, two new scented candles from their Fall 2015 collection not only smelled heavenly, but were right up my alley. The first was “Autumn in the Park” which touts the scent of freshly peeled apple, lemon zest, a hint of pumpkin spice and fallen leaves; then there was “Crisp Morning Air” which is a blend of eucalyptus, mint, pear and sage. I hated to leave that corner of the store and in the brief time I spent there, the potpourri of smells clung to my clothing.

Competing with the intense scent of the candles, was the wonderful smell of chocolate that wafted from bags and bags of Halloween goodies, freshly unboxed from cartons and stocked on those store shelves, just waiting for you to happen by.

In garden supplies there was the strong smell of grass fertilizer which permeated the area, although the pungent smell of mums and their musty-smelling loam invaded my nostrils as well.

I’ve always been partial to those old scarecrows, whether they are used to keep your corn ears intact by keeping the crows at bay, or merely just for holiday décor, so I bought one yesterday. She’s a tall girl, cute as a button, with a checked blouse and denim pinafore and she sports pigtails which are actually straw-colored raffia. She looked cheerful and colorful – the perfect ambassador to stand by the door and say “Welcome all and Happy Fall!”

Sunup arrived.

Soon thereafter, the first rays of the day began peeking through the blinds, beckoning me to come out and play, er … walk. I grabbed my gear and rolled out the door just as soon as I could.

In the wee hours of the morn some fog had rolled in, so when I passed Ford Park I couldn’t help but notice the mystical-looking haze hovering above the baseball field. The saplings even looked a little eerie … dark forms in the grassy expanse. Occasionally, a very brilliant drop of sun pierced the fog, scattering some of those sunbeams, including bouncing them off my glasses.

Wow!

I slipped my hand into the camera pouch thinking what a wonderful photo I’d get to accompany today’s blog post, but through the lens, that sun made the scene blurry and undistinguishable.

Sadly that mist opportunity became a missed opportunity.

I put the camera away and just kept walking, but my head kept swiveling over to the field of fog.

I began thinking about the song “Morning has Broken” as I walked along. Back in the day I loved Cat Stevens’ music and must’ve memorized the whole album “Teaser and the Firecat” because I played it incessantly. Suddenly I pictured that high school girl sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, almost in a trance while listening to Cat Stevens’ soothing and smooth voice, perhaps even mouthing the words to those moving lyrics. Yes, I was that girl.

I bypassed Council Point Park due to the fog and decided to make the Rivers Edge Marina my destination instead. As I walked down Emmons Boulevard toward the Detroit River, I noticed the boats were barely discernible as they glided along the water on this misty morn. At the marina, however, there was some activity as people readied their pleasure boats to slip out of the slip for an early a.m. escape … a breather from the drudgeries of their day.

I stood on the footbridge and took it all in, then decided to hightail it back before the 8:20-ish train rolled through. Whenever I dare to cross the tracks and head toward the River on a work day, I always get waylaid by a train that seems to be at least a mile long … that’s Murphy’s Law I guess.

Once back home, a second cup of coffee downed, cleaned up and sitting at my computer, I hopped onto YouTube for my own Throwback Thursday. I typed in “Morning has Broken” … after enduring a commercial, those sweet strains took me back some forty plus years. I remembered all the words and sang them out, while my canary Buddy whistled and chirped as he struggled to keep up with me.

So, why don’t you take a trip back yourself and spend three minutes, give or take a few seconds, to put yourself in a peaceful place too? But, if you’re too young to remember the song, make sure to give it a listen anyway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0TInLOJuUM

Each day provides its own gifts ~ Marcus Aurelius

Slowly the temps are creeping back up again and this morning was not so chilly as in recent days. I got in a five-mile walk. I was enjoying myself so much that I was tempted to saunter past the driveway and stay outside a little longer, but then I find myself scrambling all day to catch up at work. As it turned out, we were not so busy and I could have enjoyed a longer trek.

It had been more than a few days since I’d walked the perimeter path at Council Point Park, so that was my destination today. The foliage on some of the trees is already starting to turn, and, though it is subtle, the leaves are already brushed with tinges of burnished gold, orange or red.

Since Labor Day, many of the regular walkers are now MIA. Some, I know, have jobs in the school system, so once the new school year begins, they walk in the Park either at night, or strictly on the weekends.

First, the serenity of my morning Park promenade was interrupted by the clanging of the railroad crossing gates, followed quickly by a long train rumbling along on the nearby Emmons Boulevard tracks.

After the train departed, I quickly returned to my woolgathering while I walked along, but soon that aura of tranquility was interrupted by a flock of geese, who must’ve just lifted off from grazing in the nearby baseball field. There was a baker’s dozen in all and they were honking their heads off. Luckily their flyover was not near me, so I didn’t need to duck. Up, up and away they went, albeit rather haphazardly and out of sync, as they attempted to follow their leader. Well, I guess the migrating season is still young so there’s plenty of time to perfect the “V”. Obviously, they must not have gotten the memo that warmer temperatures will be here by week’s end, but, I suspect they, like me, saw some of those huge inflatable Halloween creatures now adorning some homeowners’ lawns and figured it was time to vamoose to a warmer clime.

A gaggle of geese can make you giggle sometimes –alot of noise and energy from very large and beautiful birds gracing the great sky above.

It was another downright cold September morn, and I tweaked the heat to nudge it up a little higher to take the chill out of the house. That was for my canary Buddy, even though he was bundled up nicely in the room where he sleeps. But, I confess I enjoyed that rush of warmth circulating as it enveloped the house, making it feel nice and cozy.

It was only 48 degrees when I headed out the door in my same garb as yesterday, but after a minute, I dashed back inside to grab a cardigan. While buttoning it up, I thought of my mom who often dispensed such pearls of wisdom like “always take a cardigan with you because it’s easier to take it off than wish you had brought one along” … yup, she had a point, but I figured that by the time I returned home from my walk, that cardigan would either be carried or slung around my shoulders.

I walked along thinking about all those pearls of wisdom I received through the years, and I guess my grandmother passed them along to my mom originally.

So, that line of reasoning, of course, got me thinking of my grandmother, Minnie Goddard, for the second time today – the first was because the radio announcer reminded the listeners that today was National Grandparents Day.

When this “Hallmark holiday” first began, I remember sending my grandmother, whom I called “Nanny”, a card for the occasion. At that time, I didn’t know that Grandparents Day wasn’t celebrated in Canada. When we spoke on the phone the next time, she thanked me for the card, but was perplexed a bit why I sent it. “Just because” was my answer. The next time we went over to visit her at her house in Toronto, the card was still standing up on the top of her fridge. She said all the neighbors wanted to know what Grandparents Day was and I would need to tell them all about it.

I missed the best years of Nanny’s life, when she was vibrant and full of energy, because my parents were thirty years old when I was born, and she was already over 50. Then, because our houses were “GU”, a/k/a “geographically undesirable”, when we lived in the suburbs, in Oakville, I only saw her about once a month on a Saturday or Sunday. Then, when I was ten, we moved to the States and only travelled to Toronto to visit her about three or four times a year.

I recall she worked very hard, and many hours, standing on her feet all day except for break times. So, she was pretty tuckered out by week’s end.

When she and my grandfather were raising their kids, they worked different shifts at big factories in the City. My grandfather worked for a company that made rubber boots and my grandmother worked at Rowntree’s and also at Planters Peanuts. I remember my mom saying that Nanny’s work clothes at both factories were a simple dark uniform, covered by an apron with huge pockets. At Rowntree’s, a candy factory, the employees got to keep all the misfit candy that they sorted off the conveyor belt. This included chocolate with uneven drips, misshapen Mackintosh toffees, the broken or chipped lighter-than-air Aero bars and more Smarties than one could ever imagine. Smarties were the equivalent of plain M&Ms. My mom said she used to play tiddlywinks with them when she was a kid. While working at Planters, my grandmother’s apron would reek of peanut oil and salt trails would be evident where the seams would split from pockets filled to the brim with less-than-perfect peanuts, because, as you may suspect … Mr. Peanut has always been rather persnickety about his wares.

In later years, she worked in food prep at a large cafeteria downtown. She’d be on her feet from 7:00 a.m. until mid-afternoon, then she’d traipse over to grab a streetcar to come home. She’d plop down on the seat, and nearly every night she’d nod off, miss her stop and sometimes ride back downtown again.

She waited much too late to retire, because by then she was plagued by heart problems which slowed her down to a crawl. Though she had earned the right to sleep in, she never did, blaming her early rising on years of getting up at the crack of dawn for work. She was content to watch her “soaps” on television every afternoon, often nodding off and missing half of the episodes. One of her favorite gifts I ever got her was a subscription to “Soap Opera Digest”, a weekly magazine which recapped all her favorite shows and the important portions missed while snoozing.

Nanny has been gone nearly thirty years now. On Grandparents Day, or her birthday, I like to think of the pleasant or light-hearted memories I have, like sitting in the living room together watching “rasslin’” which was broadcast from Maple Leaf Gardens with such greats as Buddy Rogers, Bruno Sammartino and The Sheik, or holding her hand while walking up the steep hill from her house to St. Helen’s Church on Sunday mornings. I’ve written before about how she loved her garden and we would go out back and she’d whack off a piece of rhubarb and come in and wash it and pour some sugar for me to dip the stalk, still warm from the sun, which made for a tangy treat.

The photo above was taken in June 1978 when I received my BA in Mass Communications from Wayne State University.  Just for kicks, my grandmother donned my graduation gown and mortarboard and clasped her honorary “degree”, a rolled-up sheet of paper.

Perhaps you recall the Oscar acceptance speech by actor J.K. Simmons, who hails from Grosse Pointe, Michigan. He thanked his family and dispensed some wisdom … a tribute to his own parents.

He said:

“Call your mom. Call your dad, if you are lucky enough to have a parent or two alive on this planet. Don’t text. Don’t e-mail. Call ’em on the phone. Tell them you love them, and thank them, and listen to them for as long as they want to talk to you.”

Well, that’s sage advice J.K. Simmons, and it’s a stellar suggestion if you have grandparents too. In fact I suggested nearly the same sentiment in the last paragraph of my post for Grandparents Day 2013 entitled “Roots” … https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/09/08/roots/

Reach out.

Do it today.

Do it right after you finish reading this post.

Just do it.

I know I wish that I could.

… and footballish.

Well, today is a football Saturday and we have the first home games for our primo Michigan college teams. Unlike the away games last week, the weather no longer feels tropical. In fact, it was a nifty-fifty degrees when I left on my walk this morning. Brrrrr.

While getting ready to go, I pulled on a long-sleeved Cement Masons Union tee-shirt, rewarded to my boss and I by our adversary on the day the contract was signed after many long bargaining sessions. Admittedly, the XL size was roomy, and the sleeves were a little long, even for me, so, while I walked, I tucked my hands up inside those longish sleeves to keep them warm.

Yes, it is only September 12^th and Autumn doesn’t arrive until the 23^rd of the month.

Actually, I’m lovin’ this weather. Autumn is my favorite time of year, even if it is the harbinger of the cold, snowy and icy days that lay ahead.

I decided to walk to the grocery store this morning. I needed just a handful of items, so I made Meijer my destination today.

It sure was windy and my brain got a good airing out as I made the journey. The gusty breeze not only caused alot more leaves to flutter to the ground, but there were acorns aplenty dropping down as well. The squirrels were darting to and fro grabbing them up, but then they’d see me getting near and get scared, and not look both ways before dashing into the street. I saw three near-casualties, but the drivers were kind and yielded for our furry friends. Whew! This bleeding heart would have had to look the other way.

Since my last visit to Meijer, I noticed that the store has relegated the back-to-school supplies to one small area, and they have hauled out their harvest and Halloween décor. Surprisingly, the nursery still has a few hanging baskets of annuals for sale. I guess (and hope) that they would be going for a song. Rows and rows of jewel-toned mums sit on wooden slats in the nursery area, and they beckon you to stop and buy a few to grace the front of your home.

I got in five miles for the round trip, and that included ambling around the perimeter of the store a few times. I paused at the fresh donuts, thinking how wonderful they’d taste with the cider I had in the fridge at home, but, before my willpower failed me, I stopped short of putting them in my cart by bypassing the bakery department entirely the next time around.

While walking home, the sun felt warmish on my face – it felt good. It was a gentle warmth; not that searing heat and intense humidity like earlier in the week.

The sound of some large maple leaves dancing along the sidewalk as I walked tells me it won’t be long now ‘til we add leaf-raking to our list of outside chores. That seems unbelievable to me, since I still have a few bright-yellow dandelions flourishing in my lawn. I wish they looked more like legitimate plants, such as those towering sunflowers I saw peeking over a few fence tops along my route today.

I hear that perhaps warmer temps will be back by next weekend. Oh Summer … do stay and set a spell, okay?

The early morning weather turned out to be a bonus, because yesterday all the weather folks predicted rain at a.m. drive time. That forecast caused me to languish under the covers a little longer after the alarm went off, as I figured I’d be hunkering down in the house instead of strolling in the streets.

I finally made it to the kitchen and peeked out the window – the sun was up and shining brightly!

Well, I put myself into gear and decided to skip breakfast ‘til I returned. I hustled out of the house in record time to get my walk in before the rain eventually arrived. My timing was impeccable – within an hour of my return, it started to come down in buckets.

Things have been slower at work this week, so I’ve sacrificed a few walks and devoted my time to getting some errands done in the car. One such errand was the annual oil change where the techs always laugh at my car’s low mileage. This past year I drove a mere 299 miles since the last oil change in September 2014, so they quipped “you’re really a Sunday driver aren’t you?” “Um … yes, I guess you could say that” is all I could say with a big smile on my face.

On this morning’s walk, I noticed the difference in the sun’s position, just since my last stroll toward the River. Yup, it is rising later and all of a sudden the sun seems to be setting earlier and earlier – those leaps and bounds in the sun’s position really make me sad as it signals our slow journey toward Winter.

As I strolled along, I thought about the significance of this day, and, like many others, recall my own morning fourteen years ago today. It is a sad event we will never forget.

When I returned home after my walk, I put my headphones on to catch up on the news of the day while I made and ate breakfast. As usual, the many memorial services take precedence in the newscast on this date. It was sad to hear the annual roll call of the people who lost their lives on September 11^th, especially when that long list was accompanied by the melancholy strains of “Taps” playing in the background. Though we’ve come so far since that day, the service and those sounds can conjure up the images and take us back to September 11, 2001 in a heartbeat.

Time takes away the edge of grief; memory turns back every leaf.

Gone from our lives one so dear; in our hearts forever near.

~ Anonymous

Image and copyright by Rodney Campbell:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/acrylicartist/6162565643

There must be a hundred songs or more celebrating Summer. But, once the sun sets on Labor Day, the unofficial end of Summer, there is no mistaking the harsh reality that the season has ended, even though Autumn is a few weeks away.

Yes, Labor Day is Summer’s swan song as the Summer of 2015 goes into the books.

There’s a melancholy feeling once the campfire has been snuffed out and the last ooey-gooey marshmallow, chocolate and graham crackers licked from your fingertips. Even the bottle of fireflies you gathered look rather lackluster in your own backyard. Unless your cottage is winterized, there will be one more trip up North to see the Fall colors and close up the cottage until Memorial Day.

Today dawned just as hot and humid as a mid-Summer day, which left everyone wishing there was a way to extend the holiday just a little more. The convoy of cars was endless … people who trekked Up North for a few days’ respite, now had to face the music traffic-wise as they returned home. The traffic jam continued well into Sunday night. I’m sure there were a few stragglers today as well as folks around these parts who just decided to play hooky and enjoy one more day in the fun and sun.

Those long-awaited three-day weekends pass by way too quickly, don’t they?

I chose this picture entitled “Swan” by photographer Rodney Campbell to accompany this post. Of this photo, Rodney says “a swan takes a look at me” … I agree with you Rodney. Or perhaps that swan is looking back on Summer. Did it speed by for you? We all know it certainly took its sweet time getting here!

The school busses were rolling once again, and while walking along Fort Street this morning, I was dodging groups of teenagers with their heads bent and thumbs working furiously as they busied themselves with text messages. Back when I was their age, I was happy to catch up on everyone’s Summer doin’s walking to school on the first day of class, but what a different world it is today. Now kids are in touch constantly through social media, so they are in the loop about everyone before Day One.

Today was garbage day, and on my journey I saw the usual post-Labor Day suspects … those lifeless and now-dilapidated pool toys peeking from beneath garbage can lids, and, of course there were brightly colored garden hoses snaking out to the street, draining the water from above-ground pools.

But, chin up – there are many warm and sunny days to enjoy before the Winter arrives. Look on the bright side – only 264 more days ‘til Memorial Day, the gateway to Summer.

Every sunset brings the promise of a new dawn. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

This miserable heat wave persists, but mercifully, more seasonable temps will return in a few days.

Well, hurrah for that news.

I was a little conflicted this morning. While I prefer to walk when it is cooler outside, on Sundays or holidays it is always somewhat deserted in the neighborhood, so I opted to hang out in the cool house a little longer and I set out later on my walk.

Once on my journey though, within a matter of minutes I regretted that decision, and ended up just putting in three miles, then taking a load off my feet for the rest of today.

I think you are supposed to relax on Labor Day anyway, aren’t you?

Soon enough, the sun will rise later, so early a.m. walks will no longer be the norm. I’ve been walking five miles if I have the time, or it is the weekend, but most days it is just four miles. I don’t race walk, but just stroll at a moderate pace and five miles takes me about 90 minutes; four miles 65 minutes. I thought that was about average … that is, until today. I heard Governor Snyder talking about his ability to do a five-mile jaunt in a hair under one hour. Oh. Well, that burst my bubble for sure.

The occasion to discuss the Guv’s walking stats was because the 58^th Annual Labor Day Mackinac Bridge Walk commenced at 7:00 a.m. For my out-of-town followers, some info and pictures of the event may be found here: http://www.mackinacbridge.org/annual-bridge-walk-7/

Traditionally, the Governor always leads the pack, usually about 40,000 walkers. This morning there were only 30,000 because of a light drizzle when the walk began. When interviewed this morning on both local radio stations, Governor Snyder said he regularly walks to keep fit so he was hoping to keep his pace to finish in about one hour.

Well, that makes me think I need to pick up the pace a tad.

But, up ‘til now, that snail’s pace has served me well. I guess when it cools down a little, I’ll start walking faster or taking bigger steps … maybe I can surpass the good Guv’s walking stats by this time next year. In fact, maybe I’ll make those stats my goal for next Labor Day, which will also mark five years of my walking regimen.

I am reminded, however, about some advice the local health expert, Dr. Frank McGeorge, gave on “Live in the D” recently. He said “you gotta sweat to have a good workout; you cannot just glow and glisten.”

Okay, doc … gotcha! So, I’ll pick up the pace to get more miles done in less time, get that heart pumping and I’ll sweat a little to ensure I’m getting a good workout, even though everyone knows that ladies aren’t supposed to sweat … just perspire and glisten.

On this Labor Day, whether you’re sweatin’ over the grill flipping burgers, or sweatin’ to the oldies to keep fit, remember the hard workers who have toiled through the years to make this country better from their labor. Happy Labor Day! I leave you with this quote:

Hard work is rewarding beyond gold. Sweating is living. ~Terri Guillemets

At least once a year, I meander over to the Lincoln Park Farmer’s Market to check out their wares. All the local farmers converge every Sunday from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., bringing with them a wealth of freshly picked fruits and veggies, homemade jellies and jams, as well as baked goods galore. Additionally, there are the local artisans who set up tables to sell their crafts.

The marketplace was not as large or crowded as in the past, probably due to the holiday weekend. I wanted to stop by and check it out, and maybe I’ll return, camera in hand, once all those groovy-looking gourds and great pumpkins land there later in the month.

I arrived shortly after they opened, a little tuckered out from my second of two Sunday strolls.

Earlier, I trekked over to the border of Lincoln Park and Wyandotte and paused on the bridge to watch some Canada Geese lazily gliding single file down the center of the Creek. The group was too far away to get a close-up shot, and it was way too sunny to just point and shoot and hope for the best. It didn’t matter because they paid no attention to me and soon they disappeared around the bend of the winding creek. I headed for home soon thereafter, sorry that I had left the house so late because by then it seemed to be getting hotter by the minute.

I went home and enjoyed the cool air and my tall glass of strawberry milk that revitalized me and I was soon ready to go again.

But … it was hot, hot, hot there in the parking lot, even though the majority of the vendors had umbrellas or canopies to protect them and their goodies from the searing sun, and, what shady areas there were to duck from the sun, did not allow for many good photo ops of the colorful bountiful harvest toted in by the trucks and trailers.

I would frequent the market more often, especially at the tail end of the Summer, when the produce is at its finest, except the vendors don’t like you picking up the produce to squeeze or thump it … that’s a no-no. Sometimes I feel like I might get my hand swatted or be chastised for such improprieties, just like the commercial of the bespectacled shopkeeper, Mr. Whipple, who admonishes the customers to “please don’t squeeze the Charmin.

I did eye a box of green beans, just like the ones pictured above. But not for any particular reason, except they reminded me of my mom who would clamor for some every time we went to an open air farm market or a drive in the county around this time of year. Not only did she love a large beefsteak tomato sliced onto a crispy piece of toast, or she would make a meal of new potatoes that were boiled up then drizzled with butter pats, but she liked to make stew with lots of green beans. Now, stew was not my personal favorite as dishes go. My mom would send me for green snap beans to put in the stew. She’d warn me not to return with mangled-looking or raggedy-looking beans that would spoil the stew. I’d counter that “I’m not going to inspect each bean I drop in the bag”, a statement that usually garnered a grimace or two on her part.

I took a complete tour of the market, and I passed on the beans, and any other produce, though I’d tucked some money and a few plastic bags in my pack before I left the house.

“Cool as a cuke” would not be the description for me for either of the two walks I took on this hot and steamy day. Though I added four miles to my total, I’ve never “bean” happier to get home and take it easy.

It’s another sizzling day, with soaring humidity, thanks to all the back-to-back storms over the last 24 hours. The people who are headed to the beach, or up north to their cottages, are rejoicing about the heat and humidity – the rest of us, not so much. At least me, anyway.

While walking this morning, there were few vehicles as I trudged down Emmons Boulevard, so I suspect the pilgrimage to the north country began last night.

I had a few outdoor projects planned for over the long holiday, but, with the threat of heat, humidity and pop-up storms every day, those projects will be tabled. Oh well … there’s lots of time to catch up before the snow falls. I hope so anyway.

Unfortunately, I have a list of indoor chores that need my attention – perhaps it would be good if it rained and I stayed indoors and skipped the walks. Definitely, I could check off those items!

For years Labor Day was a time to hunker down and stay indoors and begin the Fall cleaning. I took a few extra vacation days and my mom and I would work hard to get the rooms up to snuff. It seems to me that each long holiday I always had “the list”, a not-so-fun list of chores or items to be accomplished over the time off. My mom would compile that list and slowly the items would get checked off. But usually, by the time I returned to work after my “time off” the listed items on the agenda might have gotten accomplished, but I felt rather listless myself from expending all that energy on housework and cleaning. My mom and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye on housework.   I now have my “to-do” lists in my head and it seems they are rather loosey-goosey, but I try not to beat myself up over getting everything done anymore.

I know this mindset began at Labor Day 2011 when I began my walking regimen.

The Greek philosopher Aristotle said “the end of labor is to gain leisure” … I like his thinking.

I hope you have a safe and happy “toes-up” holiday.