On Sunday, when the weatherman gave the forecast for the week, he said the first three days would be “nothing special” as we’d deal with rain on Monday and Tuesday, and most likely Wednesday as well.
Of course I groaned as I saw rain wreaking havoc with three walking days in a row.
But Monday, though the clouds were dark ribbons of gray laced through a bleak-looking sky, the raincoat and umbrella I toted along went unused. Monday afternoon sure was a different story with torrential rain that pelted the roof and carried over to Tuesday morning and throughout the day. Today, thankfully Mother Nature turned off the shower, but oh … that fog.
I heard the foghorns bellowing down on the River in Wyandotte long before I ventured outside. But, ever the optimist, and looking to salvage a walk from this foggy Wednesday, I went out anyway, hoping I could find my way back home again.
So, to quote the singer Meatloaf “two out of three ain’t bad” and only yesterday was a lost cause.
This morning, I travelled lightly because I left the camera and peanuts at home, knowing that I would not venture down to the Park. Between the thick bushes and trees that line the Ecorse Creek, and the dense fog, I thought it was a little unsafe. Call me a scaredy cat, but that fog was intimidating, especially when you couldn’t see much more than three houses in front of you.
Thus, my destination was Emmons Boulevard, my usual “Plan B” walking route.
The fog was so thick as I walked past Ford Park that the trees looked like huge pillars as their green treetops were hidden in the mist. The neighborhood lawns were slick from dew and the moisture highlighted every wispy spider web that had been spun between the tall blades of grass, or on top of prickly barberry bushes.
After I turned down the Boulevard, which is lined with trees, I couldn’t help but notice all the intricate spider webs that were visible since they had dew drops hanging from each point. Sometimes these gossamer webs were incomplete, a long silky strand here and there, hanging from Point A to Point B. I’d try to go around those sticky threads, or I even tried batting the air, much like a cat bats a fly, to keep from walking into a web. All the while, I was fearful that the spider was attached to that wayward thread and would swing over to greet me. If someone was watching my actions from a window, I’d have lost my credibility for sure, as they might have thought I was gesturing to an imaginary friend.
When I was two blocks away from the railroad tracks, the gates must have gone down as the clang-clanging suddenly was deafening. I could see nothing, but the train kept sounding its horn incessantly as it neared the Emmons crossing. I kept walking, and, even as close as one block away, the fog was too thick to see the train as it whizzed by, even though I clearly heard the wheels on the tracks. There would be no trek to the marina today, because no way was I going to cross the tracks in that pea soup. It will be an adventure for another time, maybe this weekend.
Once I neared the tracks, I spun around and headed for home and walked on the other side of the street. I saw my first harvest decoration, a cream-colored pumpkin on a homeowner’s lawn. Well, why not? Meijer is already advertising their chrysanthemums. The weather feels Fallish, so might as well embrace the next season and haul out the harvest décor.
I neared the footbridge and suddenly the air smelled of fresh pine needles. There is a row of tall pine trees planted at the corner house. The dew and sap were dripping ever so slowly from those long soft needles. I breathed in deeply, the fragrant scent lingering in the moist air long after I had walked away and finally exhaled.
As I passed over the footbridge and glanced on either side, I discovered only one duck and something stirring in the water. Whose lips were breaking the surface while gasping for air? A fish? A turtle? It was hard to tell with that ever-present mist settling over the Creek.
I kept walking and, as I got closer to home, the fog was slowly starting to dissipate.
Another four miles added to my tally, and I sure was glad I didn’t allow the fog to become a “mist” opportunity to walk.
(Image from Schuetz-mediendesign on Pixabay)