WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I really must confess that it was oh-so-tempting to stay curled up in the confines of my comfy bed and perhaps skip the frosty walk this morning. It is not as if the below-average temps, which hovered at 21 degrees, and the accompanying 11-degree wind chill factor, beckoned me to throw off the covers, swing my legs over the side of the bed and get going anytime soon. I hit the snooze button once, then another time, as I wavered on taking further action. Then the greedy part of me wanting to grab the golden ring, i.e. the goal attainment of 500 miles walked by December 31st, and that was the deciding factor, so I just acquiesced and got up.

Shortly after sunrise I was bundled up and out the door. The snow was still lingering in dribs and drabs on grassy areas and amidst the light layer of snow where grass blades dared to poke through, there were dabs and smidges of color from the still-perky perennials and annuals. Some of the rosebushes I’ve seen are still in brilliant bloom and even have rosebuds frozen upon their stems. There are no sweet smells emitting from them anymore, just a beautiful still life picture of a perfectly formed bud, like the one you see above, and so very picturesque in an otherwise drab yard. The dusty miller plants look as fresh as near Labor Day and are the hardiest of any of the annuals. I’ve seen people in my neighborhood leave them out all Winter and they don’t look bedraggled, but just perpetually wearing their white hazy color which looks like sugar coating or a layer of frost on the plant. I saw cold-weather pansies popping their faces out from beneath holiday decorations and even the petunias and a few impatiens are plucky given the heavy layer of frost on the ground. In some cases, these annuals looked like they have fared better than the potted mums which took a beating with all the rain we have had in the last fortnight or so. Unfortunately the hanging baskets are wearing a hangdog look and really, it is time to pack up some of those porch pots from Summer of 2013.

I’m happy to hear this cold snap may be over by tomorrow. I saw breath vapors as I hurried along and once down at Council Point Park I saw steam rising out of the Creek and there were ducks aplenty at their usual spot just quacking up a storm. They looked at me expectantly and I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed “soon, I promise”. I’ll buy a cheap loaf of bread next time I’m at the store, then divvy it up for several treat-giving trips. Plus, the way a squirrel stopped me in my tracks, sat on his haunches and begged as I walked along the Park path, just about melted my heart. I must look like a soft touch, so I guess I will add peanuts in the shell to my grocery list. I’ll scatter a few along the trail when I see some of my squirrel buddies. It will make their day and I will go to Heaven for sure.

On this World Kindness Day, did you brighten someone’s day with a smile or a kind word? Mother Teresa said it best: “Peace begins with a smile.”

It was a biting cold when I trudged out to walk to the dentist for part two of my crown. Crispy leaves coated with yesterday’s wintry mix crunched under my shoes as I walked, head bent down to keep the frigid air at bay and stop Jack Frost from nipping on my nose. The temperature was 25 degrees and the wind chill reading a mere 15 degrees as I exited the cozy house. The weather forecasters indeed got it right yesterday and alot of slippin’ and slidin’ was going on for the evening drive-time. Thankfully the slick roads dried out and the only snow was on the grass. The numerologists proclaim today is significant since the calendar date is 11/12/13. The lottery machines will be all abuzz churning out tickets for Lotto faithful who have been scratching their heads to configure today’s date into various number combos. The Little Wedding Chapel in Taylor was featured on WWJ this morning as they breathlessly related today’s agenda: multiple weddings and many couples renewing their vows non-stop throughout the day. The spokeswoman said it is easier to remember your wedding anniversary on a special calendar date. Hmmmmmmm. The only numbers magic that materialized for me today was surpassing the 400-mile mark in my 2013 walking miles. I kept setting the bar higher throughout the course of these three seasons and I will set one more goal – 500 miles before year end. Hopefully I will not bite off more than I can chew with this goal. I am realistic that it may be unattainable in a mere six weeks with wintry weather on the horizon, but I will strive to stride and do my best. Here’s an inspirational quote for you about goals. Stay warm everyone.

Magic is believing in yourself,
if you can do that, you can make anything happen.
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

This morning I had Veteran’s Day on my mind as I left the house, as well as musing over my miles walked in 2013 as I teeter on the cusp of reaching 400 miles. I reflected on my daily routine … the conditions in the neighborhoods where I walk are certainly not deplorable, nor dangerous, and the only real concern I have while walking is the driver who backs out of their driveway without looking both ways, or a dog who bares his teeth and lunges on his chain or against the fence as he defends his turf when I walk by. Unlike our servicemen and women, I do not march in searing heat or a similar debilitating clime, nor do I carry pounds of heavy military gear or my possessions upon my back. I need not look ahead and around me for IEDs which might shatter my legs or the rest of my life. My meanderings are so unencumbered next to theirs – every walk or drive may be their last. We must never forget the rigors of military life, nor fail to honor the fallen and active military personnel. For that reason, I factored in a trip to Memorial Park this morning to visit the area where our City honors its war dead. There is a huge cannon and a memorial where the names of those who died serving their country in World War II and the Vietnam War are listed. There is also a newer memorial – a tribute to Sergeant Craig S. Frank, a member of the Army National Guard who died on July 17, 2004 during Operation Iraqi Freedom as a result of injuries from a rocket-propelled grenade that struck him from behind. Sergeant Frank’s memorial is a concrete pillar where a likeness of his boots, firearm and helmet have been cast in bronze and sit atop the pillar. A plaque states his name, rank and date and place of death. He was only 24 years old. Shortly after the memorial to Sergeant Frank was dedicated, scrappers stole the original bronze military gear and money was raised and donated to restore Sergeant Frank’s memorial to its original state. I Googled this young soldier’s name to read more about him. I remember when he was killed and the local paper featured a story about him, but I wanted to refresh my memory. Here is some information about him, his photo and his memorial which I referenced above: http://www.fallenheroesmemorialfoundation.org/get-memorial.php?id=60

I felt sad thinking of all these fallen servicemen, especially Craig Frank, and though his family today will no doubt pay a visit to the memorial which honors his participation in the Iraqi conflict, I am sure they would give anything to simply honor him by having him carve up the turkey at the Thanksgiving dinner table. It seems like just yesterday I visited Memorial Park’s tribute to the fallen during the annual Memorial Day ceremony. The Healing Fields, flags representing each Lincoln Park fallen soldier, was a spectacular sight and quite stirring. I wrote about it in my blog post on May 19th of this year: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/05/19/remembrances/

God Bless all the veterans who died serving their country, as well as the remaining vets who are either physically or mentally maimed and those who are now in harm’s way. Godspeed as well to those Marines who were dispatched to the Philippines to give assistance in the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan. We thank you.

There is something irresistible about a huge pile of leaves which, like a magnet, draws kids and dogs toward it. As I was walking home from Council Point Park this morning, I heard the squeals and giggles of little children and a dog barking, who was no doubt caught up in their exuberance. I swiveled my head toward them. I presume it was their father nearby who was raking leaves into huge mounds around the front yard. I watched as I neared the house as each mound of leaves was plunged into headfirst by the girl, followed by the boy and then the dog on their tail. The leaves were scattered everywhere and there was much mirth and merriment as the trio moved along to the next pile. The kids laughed with sheer joy as the leaves tickled their noses and clung to their towheads. I was thinking it would be a beautiful picture … the two fair-haired children, their golden retriever and an abundance of burnt orange, bright yellow and crimson red leaves. The dad good-naturedly gathered up the leaves and heaped them up for the next hop, step and jump or flying leap. Their enthusiasm was infectious and I smiled as I walked past them. I remembered a very cute video I saw of a husky frolicking in the leaves that I had tucked away for the Fall. This dog is having so much fun, you just want to join him in that big ol’ leaf pile. You cannot help but grin at his antics: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xEX-48RHCY

I think that adults view the color change and leaves dropping from the trees and littering the lawn as a definite sign that Winter is on the way and rounding up the leaves is merely another chore out in the yard to get done. Kids look at the falling leaves more optimistically – a chance to play in them and soon flurries and flakes will collect enabling them to build snowmen, snow forts, hurl snowballs and if they’re really lucky … there will be days off from school. Ahh, sometimes to be a kid again. To me it is a little sad to bag up the leaves, thus signifying the end of Autumn as we Michiganders will have many more months to wait until we can once again become leaf peepers, albeit the green, unfurling variety as we welcome Spring.

Simply put … today I was a walkin’ fool. First, I indulged myself with an extra hour of sleep. Last night, before turning in, I mentally planned out my Saturday, and decided to take to the streets no later than 8:00 a.m. then return home from walking for a leaf-raking session by 9:30 a.m. sharp. This morning, however, my plans were dashed when the meteorologists were predicting gusty winds for this afternoon, so not wishing to duplicate my efforts again tomorrow, I tabled that chore.

I’ve been very busy at work this week and logged way too many hours in front of the computer screen. That sedentary life is no good, so I decided to exit the house with blinders on, and disregard those pesky dust bunnies and take an extended walk instead. I had no stale bread slices to share with Buddy’s brethren at the Park, so I peeled off five tortilla wraps and tore them into bite-sized pieces to take along with me. The ducks would not care if there were no fajita fixin’s accompanying the tortilla bits, and, of course, I left off the guacamole since avocado is deadly to birds. I sure hope they enjoyed the tortillas and that little treat did not put too much trans fat into their diet.

I got to Council Point Park in record time, no doubt propelled by the gusty winds. I think the 25 mph winds were already here and as I walked the perimeter path, I felt like a tumbleweed along the twists and turns as the winds blew through the vast empty spaces of this 27-acre park. I stopped at the concrete precipice to feed the ducks and watched as the wind ruffled their feathers and the sunlight glinted on their teal-colored iridescent heads. The sun was shining on the water as they glided through the murky Creek when I tossed out a handful of tortilla pieces. They skittered across the water and didn’t sink but rested on the surface. Quacking soon ensued and the ducks were off and running, er … treading water to grab a bite. Two more small handfuls in opposite directions and I was fresh out of treats and ready to get going. Within a matter of minutes the water was devoid of tortilla pieces and the mallards likewise moved on.

I left Council Point Park and continued along River Drive and next walked the pathway at Lions Park and peered through the trees to see if there was any action in the water – more mallards, and I wondered if they were “my” mallards whose feet had paddled furiously to reach this spot, but I kind of thought it was I who had beat them and this was a different group.

Having trod the paths of two walking parks already and it wasn’t even 10:00 a.m. I decided to visit a few more parks along the way. In between walking through or encircling Propspinner Park, Ford Park and finally Memorial Park I also strode to the borderlines of Lincoln Park/Wyandotte and Wyandotte/Southgate.

Today I was wearing the perfect combination of clothes and I was neither too hot nor too cold but just right. I think this enabled me to keep going and enjoying the walk immensely. As I made my way along blustery Emmons Boulevard, the leaves were crispy as I scuffed through them and they seemed to fall in record number from the trees, alighting on my clothes or swirling and dancing around my feet.

I returned home, and, though my dust bunnies were still there to greet me, I felt as though the wind raced through my ears and at least dusted off the brain cobwebs. I felt renewed and refreshed from my long 5½-mile stroll, but felt I needed to “set a spell” and would have liked this old rocker to be on my front porch. It looks mighty inviting doesn’t it? Having dispensed with the great outdoors for now, and tucked in the cozy kitchen, I powered up the computer and decided to give my feet a rest and take a brief respite to write this blog post. Soon I must skedaddle to complete some chores remaining on my Saturday to-do list and factor in some work for my job as well. Tomorrow I shall tackle the leaves … they will be still be there waiting for me, of that I can be sure.

‘Fraid to say these chilly temps are here to stay. The bright and sunny skies belied the frigid air when I embarked on this morning’s walk to Council Point Park. When I got to the Park, the couple who usually stroll the perimeter path with their dogs in tow, each in its own stroller, stopped to converse about the weather and to caution me about the icy patches along the pathway. With that caveat in mind, there was no gazing at ducks or fall foliage as I kept a watchful eye to the ground. They were spot on because there were many icy puddles and I veered all over the pathway trying to walk on dry asphalt. As I reached the very last bend in the perimeter path, it might as well have been Dead Man’s Curve, as I slid on the wet pavement. There was no visible layer of ice – it was black ice only. I didn’t fall, and righted myself but felt uneasy, so I left the pathway and walked along River Drive which runs parallel to the Park. I suppose I should now switch to my new walking shoes which might have more tread on them. I bought two pair of Easy Spirit Punter walking shoes in April of 2012, fully intending to rotate them daily. I never got around to it in 2012 nor this year. These awesome shoes never needed “breaking in” and have really served me well. I did not record my daily mileage in 2012 but would guesstimate it to be at least 200 miles, and in 2013 I am currently nearing the 400-mile mark. I have indeed gotten my money’s worth out of these shoes, which is really the only expense paid for my walking pastime which yields entertainment and exercise.

Before I left this morning I raided my cold-weather gear once again for a warmer hat to replace the one that blew away yesterday. Since I took the bus for well over three decades, I have amassed a collection of hats and scarves with matching gloves or mittens through the years. Some were purchased to coordinate with various coats; others were hand-knit by my mom. I had a full-length storm coat with a Sherpa-style collar with a matching hat which served me well for eons as to my daily bus commute. The coat is long gone now and my Sherpa cap features a big visor and a pom-pom adorning the top … or, I should say, used to adorn the top. Several of my caps or hats must be professionally dry cleaned and this cap is one of them. When I take my hats to the cleaners I always need to sign a waiver that the hat may not be returned in the same condition. I picked this hat up in the Spring of 2009 and it was still in its cleaners bag untouched for over four years. This morning when I opened the bag I noticed more than half the yarn pieces in the pom-pom are either missing or pulled out of the center and sticking up on their own. I peered into the mirror and the top of my hat resembles Alfalfa of “The Little Rascals” fame. Now, if my mom were still here, her tongue would first “tsk-tsk” at the dumb cleaners while she pulled out her big knitting bag to rifle through it for some cream-colored yarn. She’d pull off a hat trick by putting her pom-pom maker to use and in record time the hat would be restored to its original state. No hat’s off to me for a great repair job, so I’ll just grumble about it each time I don the cap or relate this little yarn to anyone who might indulge my whining.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRisk morning, and by the time I got home after walking 3 ½ miles, my eyes were watering, my nose was running like a sieve and my hearty bowl of oatmeal consumed at 5:30 a.m. had sunk down to my near-frozen toes. A jogger passed me and mouthed “hi” and I replied “good morning” back to her but I heard a garbled greeting come out since my lips were so frozen. I hope she could read lips. If you can read lips, check out mine: “this is just a harbinger of horrible weather to come”.

I tripped off to Council Point Park this morning and the sky was blue and the sun was shining brightly just as I made the first turn on the rain- and leaf-slickened Park perimeter path. The gusty winds have nearly stripped the leaves from the trees that line the banks of the Ecorse Creek to a bare state, so I now have a bird’s eye view of the water. Once again, a collection of mallards with their mates were gliding placidly down the center of the Creek. The peaceful scene looked like a page ripped out of the “Wild Wings Collection”. The water was rippling from the wind and as I neared the cement boulder which is my best vantage point to view and feed the ducks, a sudden gust of wind caught my ill-fitting beret and it went airborne. I watched it as it sailed mightily across the reeds, then headed downstream, eventually coming to rest on a misshapen branch which juts out from a half-submerged tree. The ducks looked mystified at the rust-colored beret and glanced quizzically at it, then saw me, no doubt thinking they would be the happy recipients of a handout. With my expression agape from surprise over the hat debacle, they no doubt also thought “what’s up with the crazy Bread Lady?” … well, “oh bother” as Winnie the Pooh would say. That silly hat has always needed a good chin strap to secure it onto my head. I flipped up my coat hood, and carried on and while walking home made a mental note to myself to forage the cedar closet to dig out some turtleneck sweaters and my earmuffs (yes, really … the earmuffs). The “s” word is being thrown around today by the weather folks for overnight or early Friday. Granted the forecast is for “flurries” or “showers”, but still .… The snow will create a perfect ambiance which will pair nicely with the 24/7 Christmas music which started today on WNIC.

I eked out a walk, despite the fact that raindrops and drizzle persisted from the get-go … but I got it done anyway. I stepped out the door, walked about three houses down and a few pitter patters of rain plopped onto the tip of my nose, so I headed back home and waited a few minutes. Suddenly the rain stopped, so I took another stab at a small saunter, deciding it was best not to stray very far from the ‘hood. I took a different route than usual and it surprised me to see how many homes were still decked out for Halloween and one in particular took me quite aback. The mist and dark sky put the finishing touches on this whole scary scene. So let me set the stage for you about this corner house with the macabre Halloween décor. A huge gallows had been erected and a noose was still present. A body with a twisted neck and drooping head lay on the ground directly beneath. A guillotine set-up was not too far away and several headless bodies, their clothes spattered with blood, were scattered on the ground. The decapitated heads, with copious amounts of blood oozing from them, were still attached to congealed-looking pools of brain matter. The brains, which glistened from the rain and looked eerily life-like, or what I perceived to be lifelike, was just horrific. Barbed wire was coiled up and strung along the one fence. There were rubber rats around the “death scenes” and blood dribbled from their mouths and was smeared on their faces as well. This scene was quite frankly terrifying and not for the faint of heart. If I were a kid it would have scared the living daylights out of me and as an adult it turned my stomach to come upon such a gruesome sight. To add a further chill to the gory scene, the homeowners had placed mock tombstones all over the yard. Mummy heads and skeletons were popping out of the ground. A huge tombstone at the entrance proclaimed “you are next!”. The tombstones, mummies and skeletons were not scary – nothing like the bloody scenes, but I half-expected the wicked laugh of Vincent Price to greet me before I moved on. A man at the side of this house was starting to take apart some life-sized, black wooden coffins and was hammering away on one and I resisted the urge to say “hey, this is just a tad over the top you know” but it would have fallen on deaf ears I suspect. The Headless Horseman from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” looked like Sponge Bob Square Pants next to this ghastly death scene. I hurried on my way, glad to see a smiling ghost a few houses down. It started drizzling as I took another turn or two around the block, then raindrops spattered my spectacles and a tremendous whoosh of wind whisked my wool beret from my head and I had to make a mad dash after it. Yikes! I decided I’d had enough of my bizarre morning and would dilly-dally no longer and so I headed home posthaste.

I guess I’ll describe myself as fickle about our current season, because I’ve decided Fall is in my favor after all, and, thus is my friend once again. I’ve wavered back and forth with this 2013 Autumn, which is usually my favorite season. This morning dawned a little tardier than expected and there were high clouds when I departed the house, but a glimmer of light and a pale orb was shining down by the time I returned home. It sure was not a baking sun, but it seemed to radiate a little warmth on my upturned face as I glanced toward the sky. The added plus was the mild temps and it was not blustery nor bone-chilling like yesterday. I returned to Council Point Park this morning and it seemed like forever since I made this familiar sojourn to Lincoln Park’s little gem due to the darker mornings, gusty winds and rain which put a kibosh first on long walks, then any walk by October month-end. I really missed my jaunt to the Park, and in anticipation of my walk this morning I crumbed up some stale bread I had saved so that my fine-feathered friends might also have a smile today. I noticed immediately how Mother Nature has been busy with brush strokes from her autumn palette as I wended my way around the Park’s perimeter path. Some of the trees were bare, but most still had their multi-colored foliage. I caught up with some ducks drifting down the Southern branch and twisting bend of the Ecorse Creek. They were all stirred up about something, quacking loudly and the “gathering” was what I was searching for as I walked. I cupped my hand and scooped out some 12-grain honey wheat morsels and threw a sizeable handful into the fray. The noise decibel decreased immediately as they dispersed to grab a nugget of brown bread. I dipped into my bag a second time and aimed for the middle of the group. Soon, I was not the only one double-dipping as my duck buddies were diving and swimming fast and furiously aiming to get a second treat. I swear that a couple of them looked my way expectantly as if to say “Cool … the bread lady is back”; they held their pose momentarily as I tossed the last handful out, then they collectively swam over to or dive-bombed in an effort to reach the remaining morsels. Mission accomplished, I continued on my way. Before I knew it, I had completed the loops and was in the parking lot and pointing toward home. I am trying to enjoy each daily walk to the max as I stride to make my next goal, well aware that soon snow and ice will infiltrate my little walking world, thus prohibiting my morning escape. I leave you with this great quote about living for the moment by Walt Whitman:

Happiness, not in another place but this place … not for another hour, but this hour.
– Walt Whitman

Today’s post could have been entitled “Fifty Shades of Red” or “The Color Red” but I don’t want to be a copycat. Red sure was on my mind this morning. Nope, nothing made me angry, but while walking out the door, I glanced at the fire bushes in my yard and they were showing the first tinges of red … sadly I know the colder weather is getting closer when they start turning from green to their eventual brilliant red color. My fire bushes in the backyard are huge and nearly five decades old and they are simply gorgeous when they are all ablaze with beautiful shades of red. I’ll have to be more attentive to their leaves because sometimes it seems a few days will pass and the next time I glance at them, the fire bush foliage will lay scattered on the ground. My smaller fire bushes are dotted along the fence, but though they are about thirty years old, they never achieve the same vibrant color. My Crimson Queen Miniature Lace-Leaf Weeping Maple, the focal point of my front garden, is slowly turning a rich burgundy hue and is striking. It is just remarkable how the maples have changed to their most-vibrant colors since the last time I made my way down tree-lined Emmons Boulevard. Today I noticed the leaves are now a beautiful mixture of cherry, gold and orange and it will be unfortunate to see them dropping and dying on the ground the next few weeks. A trip down the Boulevard is a scaled-down version of the color extravaganza in Michigan’s north country … the colors are that stunning without straying far from the neighborhood.

I snagged this photo of a plethora of candy apples, which sure beckon you to take a big bite, but somehow I see your dentist or hygienist in the background wagging a finger or a thought bubble over their head saying “NO!”. Candy apples were always off-limits to me when I was younger so I have never tasted one. Caramel apples studded with lots of peanuts were not on the no-no list and they were always a favorite Fall treat, though I’ve not had any since I gave up sweets.

When we moved to the States we were surprised to see that Americans favor their apple pie with a dab of ice cream rather than a slice of cheese. While apple pie à la mode sure was delicious, we clung to our Canadian tradition of hot apple pie topped off with a generous slice of Black Diamond sharp cheddar cheese lopped right off the block and plopped onto the hot pie to get it slightly melted on top and dripping down the crust and filling. Ahhhhh … good-eatin’ memories from the food memory bank plus a treat for the olfactory senses as well. Nothing compares to a cool Fall day and a bubbling apple pie or apple crisp baking in the oven while cinnamon is wafting though the house. Now I enjoy my apples strictly au naturel and I don’t go bobbing for them either. I’m still experimenting with different apple varieties each time I shop. I enjoy those “Sweetie” apples and will await the arrival of the tropical-tasting “Pinata” apples soon after the holidays. A tasty wedge of cheese and a sweet and crunchy apple – who could ask for more?