WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

The fog came on little cat feet once again this early morning. I always loved that poem by Carl Sandburg. Here in Lincoln Park, there wasn’t as much pea soup as the other ‘burbs – it was just mighty misty. In thinking about that poem, I could not help but make an analogy to one of our favorite feline teams – the Detroit Tigers, who will begin wending their way through the playoffs today hoping to attain the ultimate catnip – er, prize … winning the World Series. Will they be clawing and scratching all the way? Will it be the Year of the Cat? It’s hard to predict right now, isn’t it? I saw this bumper sticker at the rear of a bright red pick-up truck. A wistful and forever fan who no doubt will be holding onto the dream as long as possible.

Well, today we turned the calendar page over to October. The chill in the air this morning certainly felt like October, and it sure seems like the last couple of days, more and more leaves are littering the sidewalk. I decided to walk down to Biddle and Emmons this morning since it’s been well over a week since I made that trip. I noticed alot of people have hauled out their harvest and Halloween décor since I last passed by. The large and stately homes along Emmons Boulevard have a bounty of Autumn decorations and I watched a squirrel checking out a resin pumpkin which was just his size. That gourd looked very lifelike to me and I know he also thought it was real because he swiped at it with one paw, then head-butted it. Good thing he didn’t try to chomp on it, or he would have broken his two front teeth. After a second paw swipe, it then teetered and threatened to tip over, so he quickly backed up a few paces, then took off running. It was amusing to watch him. It’s the witchin’ season and there are witches and monsters impaled on sticks in front of homes, as well as lying horizontal on the lawn à la those large, inflatable decorations that collapse and die once the timer goes off. The flattened witches remind me of the Wicked Witch of the West and how she melted away in “The Wizard of Oz”. I’ve seen “sticky-looking” cotton spider webs stretched over bushes and around trees with massive arachnids with wicked-looking smiles perched in the center. I hate spiders, but I love all those spooky decorations, though I don’t decorate for Halloween myself. I’ve not gone past the house with the macabre guillotine scene yet and might just skip it this year and stick with the tamer stuff. I got a four-mile walk in and was ready to cast off my jacket just as I arrived home. I’m hearing we have one more warmish day which will be our “treat”, then Mother Nature will pull a nasty “trick” by sending us a storm followed by cold weather. We sure got spoiled the last week so I hope the weather people are wrong and October doesn’t turn into “Shocktober”.

The string of beautiful Summer-like days continues. At the tail end of my trip yesterday I found myself at mile #400, so I started off mile #401 by trekking to my favorite little nature nook. My boss decided to linger in the Upper Peninsula another day and wend his way back home today, so, for me, with that bonus morning down here in the Lower Peninsula, I took advantage of his absence to take an extended walk in the Park. I did two loops, enjoying the stillness of the early morning – why, even the 8:20 a.m. train was absent. But, the usual flora and fauna were there – hints of red and golden yellow are even creeping into the wild weeds and bushes along the trail, as well as the new Fall colors tinging the tiptop of the trees. I’m sure these beautiful hues could rival any of the foliage found in the UP. I saw a handful of squirrels, but they seemed disinterested this morning, so my bag of peanuts remained intact in my pocket. I chatted with Cindy, the pole walker, and she shared some secret spots along the trail where I could find ducks and turtles lined up along a log and frolicking in the water. I didn’t know about these little hidey-holes and went to investigate with her. What a treasure trove of mallards we saw and that just made my Monday morning special. The turtles – well, they were nipping at the surface, but hiding from us below the dark water, but every so often the sun would glint on their air holes. With rain in the forecast this evening, I lingered at the Park as long as I could before heading home, knowing I might not be visiting for a day or two.

I think Mother Nature has now redeemed herself for the many rainy days we’ve endured this Summer, not to mention the horrible Winter and miserable Spring. Perhaps she has taken pity on us here in Southeast Michigan and concedes that we have earned the right to just a few more warm days to roll up our sleeves and let our bare arms bask in the sun a bit.

It was downright Summer-like today by the time I left for my walk, wearing a short-sleeved tee-shirt and baring my arms. It was already 70 degrees! Not even a week ago, I know I was in multiple layers and looking for my wool hat and gloves, but, as that saying goes “if you don’t like the weather here in Michigan, wait five minutes”.

I didn’t head down to the Park this morning, but I just walked around the neighborhood and went over to the Farmer’s Market. I had done some chores in the yard earlier in the morning. I figured since it hadn’t rained for over a week, I’d cover up my ornamental log cabin birdhouse and my slate “Welcome” sign for the Winter. Both are permanent fixtures at my house for many years, and an annual rite of Fall is wrapping them up to keep them from getting weather-beaten over the Winter. This task, to me, has a kind of finality to it because it means that the cold weather, which I despise, is soon on the way. I felt a little silly doing this chore on such a warm day, but I keep hearing the “Almanac” editor crowing about snowflakes in mid-October and wicked weather in November, so I just dealt with it. After multiple layers of bags over the Welcome sign, I stood back to inspect my efforts, and to ensure that no gaps were visible where the snow or ice might collect and pull the sign off the wall. It passed muster, and, just as I opened the door to go into the house to collect my walking paraphernalia to be on my way, I heard geese honking nearby, so I glanced up to the sky. I wished I would have had my camera handy since a flock of about 15 Canada Geese were flying in V-formation directly overhead and very low. I resisted the urge to wave and say “see ya in the Spring” or “save travels to y’all” … much too soon they were gone, but the message was clear … time’s a’ tickin’.

Mother Nature has outdone herself this week, but today was something special. There was just the smallest hint of fog when I left the house this morning, and by the time I arrived at Council Point Park, the sun was suddenly high in the sky and shooting sunbeams at me as well as across the endless expanse of soccer and baseball fields. It reminded me of a day last Summer and my post about the amazing sunbeam: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/08/18/sunbeam/. I was awestruck then, just as I was this morning. But, today the sun seemed to slice right through the morning mist and cast its light on the Creek and the grass. It was a little breathtaking. The sun was dancing along on a few trees that have already started to turn red and yellow, illuminating those leaves and it was very picturesque. There were several people on the perimeter path, including the woman who rollerblades – I hadn’t seen her in several weeks, and thought perhaps she had given up that sport now that the leaves and acorns have started littering the trail and she was concerned about them getting caught in the wheels. Once again I saw Ann Marie whom I met a few days ago, and we chitchatted once again, picking up our conversation where we left off. We finished up the trail, left the Park and walked some more and gabbed some more. After we parted, I knew I should head for home since I had an agenda of items to do in the house, plus for work. Yet, I wanted to linger outside to enjoy the awesome Autumn day just a little longer. So, I meandered over to Memorial Park and did a complete lap of that Park from Fort Street to Electric. But, then I was still greedy in wanting to enjoy the pretty morning so I walked still another complete lap. I had not strapped on my pedometer because I intended to do my usual Park route with two laps which would give me five miles, so I left it at home. I am sure I walked at least six miles today. I was feeling great, and pretty smug as well, by the time I arrived home. My letter carrier, Jenny, was just leaving my house and we stopped a moment to visit, and, of course, to remark on the beautiful day. I said I had been walking a solid two hours and racked up at least six miles. She laughed and said each day her route covers eleven miles. Well, that sort of burst my bubble, but my trek was a wonderful jaunt just the same.

No, the spellchecker did not suddenly go wacky … nor did I, but walking through Council Point Park on this foggy Friday had some mystical qualities to be sure. In my early morning jaunt, as the mist cast a cloak over me while I was walking to the Park, in my fogged-up head I was playing Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” … now my walk had no correlation at all to the song, but for the fog reference, and I was just thinking of that hauntingly beautiful music in that tune. While making my way around the two laps at the Park, I noticed that you couldn’t even see the other side of the perimeter path. In the expanse of the soccer field, ghost-like goal posts were scattered about and they looked a little eerie in the misty morning. Hulking trees seemed larger than normal as they loomed on the horizon. The grass was soaking wet and the slight breeze rustled in the trees causing them to shake droplets down on my head (at least I hope it was the trees and not a passing bird). Nary a critter was out this morning and I wondered if they deemed it unsafe to venture out when they could hardly see the humans as they walked along the trail. I would think they would rely on scent alone, but …. All the while the foghorns down on the River in Wyandotte kept bleating out a lonesome call, almost sounding dejected and forlorn, and then along came the 8:20 a.m. train likewise interrupting the still morn as it rolled on through the City. All in all, it was not the most-memorable walk, though the shadowy figures and misty morn provided fodder for fellow walkers and I to comment on. As I walked home, I decided it was a morning more suited for late October and the witchin’ season.

You won’t hear a soul complaining about it either.

I hustled out of the house as soon as it was light to get in two laps at the Park to add another five miles toward my goal. I chitchatted with the woman on Pagel Street who was sitting on her porch all bundled up in a big comforter, but still enjoying the coolish, but pretty, morning. Council Point Park sure was crowded, mostly with walkers, but a few joggers as well. It seemed that everyone was gaily waving to one another and crowing about the beautiful day. The dew was heavy on the grass and the sun illuminated the water droplets that speckled many of the colorful leaves as well. I snapped several pictures of smaller memorial trees which were already tinged with red or gold and those trees were looking very festive for Fall, belying the warm temps and Summer-like feel.

On the first lap, I scattered a few peanuts for the squirrels and they came running right away and then were sniffing for more. Meanwhile, an angry Blue Jay screeched down at me to leave a few for him as well. So, with my eye focused on the tree where he perched and was creating all the mayhem, I tossed a handful of peanuts nearby just for him. In record time, he swooped down to retrieve his prize. Jays are such large and beautiful birds that I never fail to be amazed at their beauty. I didn’t see or hear the woodpecker today – perhaps he has graduated to a taller tree or is spending the day with his mother learning more tips and tricks on how to be a woodpecker.

As I progressed along the trail, I rounded a bend and saw a huge Woolly Bear caterpillar slowly inching its way across my path. I stopped and looked at it, trying to recall what the configuration of his brown and black stripes meant regarding the Winter ahead. I took a picture but he was close to some dense brush so it probably won’t come out clearly. While I was checking out that fuzzy caterpillar, a fellow walker came along and was watching me take the picture so I explained the folklore surrounding this furry little guy. She hadn’t heard that story before, so as we walked along and chatted amiably, I shared some of the other weather folklore that is associated with nature. I found out that Ann Marie also enjoys walking the Park trail and has an affinity for birds, just like me – she has an African Grey parrot, so of course we had to trade stories about our pet birds.

The end of the trail was near and I reluctantly departed from the Park and walked most of the way home with Ann Marie who lives only a few streets away from me. When I checked my e-mail later on I found some gorgeous pictures of two hummingbirds that had arrived at my next-door neighbor Marge’s feeder. She snapped their photos up close, while their tiny wings were whirring fast, and their long beaks were sipping the sweet nectar in the red feeder.

I think Mother Nature took pity on us for our less-than-ideal Winter, Spring and even Summer, so she is re-inventing Fall to make up for those abysmal seasons and help to keep us just humming along.

Weather folklore or folly tells us that certain critters’ characteristics in the Fall are a precursor to a brutal Winter. The lowly woolly caterpillar’s coloring, the width of a squirrel’s bushy tail, and, even the increased shedding by horses and dogs, are all traits that naturalists use to predict the severity of the Winter. I believe that the Canada geese in the Park have been studying this year’s dire predictions and are headed South already. They’ve been absent in the Park for weeks now, so I wonder if they have a sixth sense and thus have left Michigan? The picture above is a tranquil scene at Council Point Park I took a few months ago … if I had to entitle it, I’d call it “Serenity”. But, back to the present – this morning when I arrived at the Park I was packing peanuts and my camera and looking for another photo op. It was a nifty fifty degrees, yet it didn’t feel as cold or blustery as the past few days. The sun was out and glinting off my glasses, sending warm rays my way. I was able to beat the train that comes rolling through around 8:20 a.m. and disturbs the peace as it toots and blows its whistle for a full five minutes to announce its arrival. I was solo the first lap and was puzzled where everyone was … people, that is … because, as I passed by a memorial tree, which is already resplendent in a mix of golden leaves, I heard a little tap, tap, tap. It was a very faint tapping, but then I heard it again. Trying to discern what it was, I backed up and looked above me in the tree. The very tiniest of woodpeckers was hanging upside down on a narrow branch taking drilling practice from a larger woodpecker much higher up in the tree. I started to pull my camera out of my pocket, but was afraid I’d startle him, so I just let it go. Like his tiny taps, he was rather minute as well, all downy and fluffy but with a longish spear-like beak that kept incessantly pecking that tree branch, while Mom, high above, interjected with her own staccato-like noise with louder precision every so often. The little guy’s antics made me smile and the scene was reminiscent of an instance at the Wyandotte/Lincoln Park border where I watched a passel of Canada geese and mallard moms teaching their offspring how to dive, nibble reeds and swim in a neat row. That was a sweet scene and I often replay it in my mind. The air was so still that the pecking seemed intensified, with only an occasional twitter from a nearby songbird. It was a peaceful scene indeed. As to the geese, it’s hard to speculate why those honkers aren’t hanging around, but I suspect their beaks have been buried in the “Farmer’s Almanac” and they’ve read its dire predictions. So, what’s a goose to do … but vamoose!!!!!

This first full day of Fall was just about as gorgeous as they come, wasn’t it? I was torn between just walking to Meijer to pick up some produce and lugging it home or taking the car out for a much-needed spin. Four wheels versus foot power won out since it was 10 days since it had been out of the garage, though I do go and start it every few days. My car is five years old today, and, as I drove into the garage, I glanced at the odometer and it read 2,827 miles, of which a whopping 205 miles have been driven so far this year.

It is three miles roundtrip to Meijer, and, even though I drove, I racked up three miles or 6,000 steps on the pedometer as well. This is because I park in the boonies and trudge in from there and then I leave my cart in the center of the store most of the time, and just walk to retrieve what I need.

As I strolled around the store, I noted that the school supplies have been tucked away ‘til next year now that the Halloween paraphernalia is out in full force. That décor takes up a sizeable chunk at one end of the store, and, at the other end we find Halloween goodies galore. I decided to reward myself with some apple cider, but not before I paused to peruse the caramel apples rolled in peanuts which I really love. But I swore off sweets in 2010 and decided not to start up again. Not to mention, I was somewhat conflicted on whether a caramel apple was technically a “sweet” or a “fruit”. My only sweet indulgence these days is chocolate or strawberry milk. However I succumbed to something silly and somewhat sweet when I got to the milk cooler. I bypassed the chocolate milk in favor of a half-gallon of TruMoo’s “Orange Scream” milk. When I put it in the fridge at home I have to admit I wondered aloud what I was thinking when I got it, but, I guess I was channeling the inner child in me … 3,000 steps forward and one gigantic step back.

Nothing says Fall like squirrels gathering nuts for the long Winter ahead. It was just a mini walk for me this morning as it was blustery and cold and I had alot going on at work today. I just stayed in the neighborhood as it would have been way too wet at the Park after all that rain the past few days. Everywhere I walked, I saw squirrels scampering about with a nut tucked in their mouth as they quickly scrambled up the nearest tree once they saw me. I still had peanuts tucked in my pocket from my last Park visit, so a few benefitted from not running in the opposite direction as I passed them by. The above picture is “our” resident neighborhood squirrel. His nickname is “Sammy” and he’s a cutie pie who can spy a peanut 50 yards away. I used to feed him, or his ancestors, on a daily basis, and now, he will scurry over to my next-door neighbor Marge’s deck in record time when he sees her emerge from the door wall dispensing a few peanuts on the deck exclusively for him. She spoils him with cookies sometimes too. Really, this little guy is no different than your fur kid who begs for a treat by sitting on his haunches or running in circles around your feet, except he flicks his tail instead of wagging it, all the while balancing precariously on the deck rail. Yes, he feeds on your peanuts and your kindness, then finishes up and goes to the next household of suckers and goes through similar antics. Oh well … we have never owned him exclusively, thus our feelings are never hurt. He is just like the Park squirrels … one handout and they will return over and over again.

Tonight at 10:29 p.m., Fall – the real deal and not this imposter we have been dealing with all Summer, will officially arrive. Well, as that saying goes … “been there and done that”. It has felt like Fall since Summer arrived, with the occasional hot and steamy day thrown in for good measure, but you won’t hear a complaint at my end – I prefer the cooler weather. There is no calendar page to turn to signify Fall’s arrival, but we do that in our mind and by donning a few extra layers going forward. As of today, we have a mere 100 days left ‘til we exit 2014.