I’ll borrow Scarlett O’Hara’s famous line from “Gone With The Wind” which sums up my motto about housework: “I’ll think about that tomorrow – tomorrow is another day” – I love that line!!! My mom was a much more fastidious housekeeper than I shall ever hope to be and clearly the good housekeeper gene skipped a generation. Last night before going to bed, I set the alarm to get up very early but it rang and I rolled over and snapped it off; I didn’t even bother with the “snooze” function. Last night someone close by was shooting off firecrackers until past 11:00 p.m. and kept me awake. This morning, from the cozy confines of my bed, I decided that dealing with dust bunnies, so I could dispense with all my chores before leaving on a walk, could wait another day. At 7:45 a.m. there was a cool breeze and the sun was tucked behind the clouds, perfect to embark on the 3 ¼ mile round trip adventure to Council Point Park. Today I walked solo the entire walk along the Park perimeter path – there were no bicyclists either; just me.
Bunnies were everywhere this morning, munching on wild rhubarb leaves or savoring the lavender-colored wild morning glories that were laced throughout the grass. The bunnies generally bolt once they catch sight of me, but I guess I was not deemed a threat to them today so they stayed put.
The cottonwood was a’flyin’ this morning, and, while I peered through the marsh reeds, I saw hundreds of cottonwood polka dots drifting along the murky Ecorse Creek waters.
Around the bend I saw about thirty Canada Geese grouped together and pecking at the grass and the pathway for food. There were actually two families of geese and goslings – some goslings were still very young and others looked much older. I’m sure the younger family were “my” goslings I saw nearly a month ago and they’ve grown so big. While they still had their yellowish, fuzzy-looking feathers, they were not the cute little chicks that were toddling around after their mom. The second family of goslings had completely lost their fuzzy look and instead were pale imitations of their parents. They were gangly looking with necks and legs that were not in proportion to their body. In fact, they were kind of homely, not unlike a youngster’s awkward “tween” years. I’ve got several photos in my albums which I keep hidden just for that reason – my cat eye glasses, my hair is some type of frizzy hairdo gone bad or I had grossly uneven bangs. Just as I was wishing I had some dry bread to scatter for the geese, the gander came rushing ahead of the bunch with his dander up. He was squawking loudly and flapping his wings, clearly thinking his family was in danger. I get the same look from my canary Buddy, when I take out his fruits and veggies for the night when I’m ready to put him to bed – I call it showing me his fractious face. But this guy was bigger than Buddy and I quickly moved off the path and to a grassy area as I didn’t like the menacing look he was sending me.
Next, I passed an alcove with a footpath leading down to a small cement precipice which juts out over the creek. I’ve never gone down the path, but there sat a young boy, intent on watching the water where he had cast his line and a shimmering lure was bobbing up and down in the water. If I squinted, I could imagine him wearing a straw hat and clad in britches rolled up to the knees, bare toes dipping into the water, a’ la Huck Finn. I was tempted to call out “hey” to him, but he perched precariously on that square landing and I didn’t want to startle him. I suspect he won’t be having a fish fry tonight as it is likely he snagged more cottonwood fluff on that lure than anything else.
All too quickly I was back at the entrance of the Park and it was time to head home To me, I too had gone fishin’, but my quiet reflective spot to ponder life and commune with nature was the perimeter path around the Park. So, fiddle dee dee, I’ll catch up with those dust bunnies tomorrow –I had a chance to get up close and personal with real bunnies and the rest of Nature’s bounty.