The weather folks have been predicting perfect weather all holiday weekend, and they, as well as Mother Nature, didn’t disappoint.

I decided to take advantage of the cool weather and trek down to Ecorse to the River’s Edge Marina, as I hadn’t been there in a while.

I shut the door and headed out and all the neighborhoods were quiet. No joggers, bikers or dog walkers, and, more than once, I wondered why I was the only one out on a such a beautiful morning?

But, along the way, someone was up and at ‘em, in their kitchen cooking bacon, and, the delicious smells wafted out and I inhaled deeply. Momentarily, I was reminded of my mom, who had loved beefsteak tomatoes, and this time of year when the big ones could be bought at the farm markets and vendors out in the country, we’d be eating a lot of BLTs – suddenly I found myself hankering for one.

Once I arrived at the railroad crossing and there were no trains were in sight, I hustled across the multiple sets of tracks and continued on my journey to the foot of Emmons Boulevard and Biddle Avenue, where the sun was glinting on the sparkling Detroit River. I shaded my eyes with my hand and gazed toward the horizon and soon noticed there was not a single pleasure boat in sight!  Hmmmmm.  The sky was a perfect shade of blue and puffy, fluffy-looking clouds drifted by lazily, and, as usual, down by the water and near the marina, the seagulls swooped and dived.  They had to fend for themselves since nobody was at the marina yet, so food pickin’s, obtained by permission or otherwise, were mighty slim.  It was odd seeing all the boats in their respective slips on such a beautiful morning, and, even more unusual that the Ecorse Rowing Club members were not climbing into their shell at the wide wooden dock.

Perhaps all the lack of activity was because it is a holiday weekend?

I was sure that I’d satisfy my “duck fix” in the cove of the marina, and there would be a photo op for sure, even though I’d not bought any bread tidbits to lure them closer to me. But my feathered friends were conspicuously absent from this little haven, just as they have been near the footbridge this season.  I hope they have not met their fate, like the mallards who perished in Trenton’s Marsh Creek due to botulism from low water levels from the drought-like conditions earlier this Summer.

But … who are these fine mallard specimens pictured above you may ask?

My friend and neighbor, Marge Aubin, listened to my frequent laments about the absence of ducks this year and told me I should have stuck to the neighborhood … Mr. and Mrs. Duck, pictured above, were strolling around the front of a house a couple of blocks over as she was driving by. Marge backed the car up, and quickly dug in her purse for her camera to snap their pictures, then e-mailed them to me later.

Before I left the picturesque marina, I walked over to visit the poignant memorial dedicated to a young motorcyclist who lost his life, one early August morn, on that sharp curve just before the concrete bridge that overlooks the marina. There is a large memorial dedicated to Josh Sucharski, and candles and wreaths remain along the guardrail, the actual site of the crash.  There must be hundreds of heartfelt wishes made in his memory, all written in black magic marker, along the length of that silver metal guardrail.  A small wire bucket, filled with black Sharpie magic markers, remains at the site for those who will still come to pay their respects and honor the memory of Josh by penning a farewell message to him.

My return trip home was equally as quiet … strangely, still not a soul out and about. Perhaps everyone was simply enjoying the cool breezes filtering into the house.  Finally, the incessant hum of air conditioners has been silenced and a wisp of wind stirred delicate sheers at open windows.  Of course, there were many more hours left in the day to bask in the picture-perfect weather.

As I now strive to reach my goal for yearend miles, today’s extra-long walk will help get me closer to that goal. I realize that the days are getting shorter and I have less time to get my usual daily three to four miles accomplished before I start work.  Unless we are blessed with a warm Winter again, I’m thinking eight to ten weeks at the most can be counted on for a daily, snowless, slip-free trek … then, who knows what Mother Nature has up her sleeve?

I leave you with this quote …

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead. ~ Louisa May Alcott