My boss left for the U.P. today, a trip that will take him some seven or eight hours, and nearly 500 miles one way to reach his destination. Whew! Well, that’s more mileage than I’d accumulate on my car in two or three years’ time. In fact, this year I’ve only driven 168 miles which is way below what I’ve already walked in 2014.

Once again I decided the River in Wyandotte, at the foot of Emmons Boulevard and Biddle Avenue, would be my destination. I left early enough to beat the train going as well as returning. Last night the weather folks predicted fog for this morning, but there was none, although it was extremely humid.

Before I took off, I walked into my backyard only to groan audibly over the yard work that needed my attention – I’ve not mowed the lawn in three weeks due to all the bouts of rain and while the front yard looks okay, the backyard is getting long, but it was way too wet today to deal with it. I checked out my roses and they smelled heady … their petals were damp with dew and the moist air in the backyard smelled like perfume. (I wish I could turn my above picture into the scratch-and-sniff variety, but you’ll just have to imagine the fragrance.)

I shut the gate, and started on my trek, and, as I walked through the neighborhoods enroute to the River, I glanced at the various political yard signs on many of the homeowners’ lawns. I thought wryly that most of these people featured on the vote-for placards did not prevail past yesterday’s primary elections. I figured by the time I made my return trip home, most people would have slunk out and retrieved their yard signs and hid them in the garage or backyard ‘til next week’s trash. Oh well … better luck next time.

Man … it was humid and I could feel the clamminess as I strode along. At one of the houses I pass when I walk to Wyandotte, there are always two Rottweilers in a corner backyard. They are big and sleek and they stand guard near the fence. They always snarl at me and stare me down when I near their turf. I generally cross the street so I don’t go anywhere near them, and, as I usually do with any of the large or vicious-looking dogs on my route, when I near their territory, I grab my lanyard which carries my keys, pepper spray and big whistle, and I hold it in my hands until I pass them. Otherwise these dogs just go nuts when they hear the jingle-jangle as I walk along – they obviously associate the noise with dog tags and feel the need to defend their turf. When I grabbed the lanyard, I was surprised to find the keys, pepper spray canister and whistle were moist with condensation from the humid air. Even my shirt felt clammy.

On my trip today, the humidity, plus a bit of a breeze allowed many smells to linger longer than usual – like when I passed the large lavender garden on Emmons Boulevard. On moist or humid mornings like today, the smell of lavender assails your nostrils in a very pleasant way. I would like to co-mingle some of that lavender with my rose petals and preserve it for the Winter months – I know that just a sniff, or a whiff, could get me through that long, cold season.

I passed one home from which the smell of fresh biscuits wafted from a large kitchen window – ah, heavenly! A short time later, I passed a house with the screen door propped open and a bad odor filled the air – the unmistakable smell of burnt toast. Oops! Well, I’ve done that myself a few times and that odor does linger forever, doesn’t it?

While it didn’t smell like worms despite that torrential downpour we had yesterday, my nostrils detected what I determined was “Step 3 of Scotts Turf builder’s 4-Step Annual Program”, and soon the fertilizer nuggets which crunched under my walking shoes verified what my nose had predicted. Just another pungent aroma on this sticky morn.

As I meandered home, I mused about how I heard that it was “Wiggle Your Toes Day” and though I would not be flexing my little piggies on a sandy beach to commemorate the event, I sure gave them a workout as I walked through Wyandotte and my home town of Lincoln Park on this wickedly clammy Wednesday morn.