WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

The morning weather was nasty on Tuesday and Wednesday, putting the kibosh on walking due to drizzly, dreary, damp and dismal conditions.  How’s that for a description dripping with alliteration?

As I walked along the perimeter path this morning, I was pondering that our weather, albeit fickle with those few bouts of snow as late as two weeks ago, has been true to that ditty that we all chanted when we were little nippers:  “March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers.”   Unfortunately May is just around the corner and I have not seen a hint of any flowers, save for a few crocuses and snowdrops  back in February and the small contingent of weather-beaten daffodils remaining after the others were destroyed during the torrential rain storms last weekend.

Even the harbinger of Spring, the golden-colored forsythia bushes, have not yet put in an appearance.  Down at the park, the trees are bare and the reeds and swamp grass which stir gently in the wind when I pass, are still drab looking and dried up.

The blah landscape, now so devoid of color, seems unnatural this far into Spring.

I sure was antsy to get out and walk and I headed right down to my favorite nature nook, not only because it is National Park Week, but also because I had a celebration of sorts today …  it was five years ago on this date that I discovered Council Point Park.

I’ve wondered many times since I first meandered down there, why I never visited that Park before?  Of course I never began my walking regimen until 2011, and had only heard of Council Point Park because that had been the venue for our informal 30^th high school class reunion.  The x-ray tech at my mom’s orthopedic doctor’s office, also a former high school pal, was on the reunion committee and she urged me to go since it was close to my house.  I skipped the event, which I later learned was attended by only a handful of people  from our class, a graduating class which had numbered 613 students.  The attendees gathered under the Park pavilion to grill hamburgers and hotdogs, nibble sheet cake and the funds they collected for the reunion enabled them to plant a memorial tree and stone plaque to honor our classmates from Lincoln Park High School’s Class of ’73 that had passed away.

At the time when Sandy mentioned this reunion event, I racked my brain to pinpoint where this Council Point Park was, just a mile from my house?  But, I never did investigate.

On the morning of Friday, April 26, 2013, I had a little extra time to kill since my boss was on vacation in Australia traveling in a catamaran, sailing along the Great Barrier Reef.  The radio station I listen to had been touting an event spanning several days at Council Point Park commemorating the 250th anniversary of Chief Pontiac’s council.  As part of the ceremony that weekend, a permanent marker would be placed to recognize that memorial gathering.

The event sounded a little boring, however, the lure of viewing authentic wigwams and birch bark canoes was intriguing, so I headed to the Park for a look-see.  A large stone with an engraved plaque recognizing that historical event sits at the entrance to the Park and is pictured above.  But there was little else to see, except a large Park seemingly smack dab in the center of a bustling city.  I saw what appeared to be an asphalt walking path and decided to “go for it” and thus began a fascination with this nature nook.

Since I usually wear a pedometer, I’ve kept a record of miles trod through the years, and I’d have to say, without consulting my records, more miles have been spent at this venue than anywhere else I’ve walked since I began the walking regimen in 2011.  I’ve written about the Park’s “wilderness” as well as the Creek that runs along the edge of the path in Loop #1 and part of the wide-open spaces of Loop #2.  Of course you already know about the frequent escapades with the resident critters.  It is a delightful venue which never disappoints.

The landscape  at Council Point Park will soon come to life once again, and, in a couple more weeks I will be telling you about the carpet of dandelions, the trees that are leafing out, or the bushes groaning with black raspberries.  The goslings and ducklings will be toddling after their parents, while we, the walkers on the perimeter path, will be careful to keep our distance from our fine-feathered friends, for their sake and ours.  The songbirds will sing even more sweetly than they did this morning, and I will struggle to whistle back at them, matching note for note.  This ambiance at this Park is something to look forward to after an over-long Winter and a Spring, which can’t seem to gain traction, much like my walking regimen sometimes.

In the meantime, I’ll share a post from last Summer of the nooks and crannies that are Council Point Park in its glory.  I could have done a screen shot of a Google map which better exemplifies the 2.2 mile perimeter path and 27 acres that are my near-daily stomping grounds, but that image is copyrighted.

There is a backstory to this post.  On Tuesday I told you about the rock craze that began here last year.  My friend and neighbor, Marge Aubin, was housebound due to her COPD, so she spent many days painting and decorating rocks.  She gave some to me to hide at Council Point, then she watched for their discovery on the Facebook Downriver Rocks site.  After Marge passed away, her granddaughter brought over all her finished rocks for me to hide around Council Point Park.  They were mostly small or medium-sized rocks, and I took them to the Park a few days later.  I wrote a post about hiding these rocks and shared it on the Downriver Rocks Facebook site: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/08/18/nooks-and-crannies/

In that post, I wended my way around the Park, looking for hidey holes for those rocks in a venue which I know like the back of my hand.   I thought the people who now follow this blog might like to see some places around the Park besides just where my furry and feathered friends hang out.

So now we’ll await the “real Spring” while tapping a foot or crossing our arms impatiently.  Next week we will hit the 80-degree mark … the trees will suddenly leaf out and there will be no more bare branches filled with squirrels, cardinals and red-winged blackbirds, nor glimpses of downy woodpeckers.  No more critter nests will be exposed as the trees will all fill in.  The Park will come alive once again, and I will continue to walk there with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.

If you recall Wednesday’s post, at the conclusion of that walk I had dealt with snow showers and even a sleety mix by the time I arrived back home.  My fingers were frozen from taking pictures of that Great Blue Heron on his fishing expedition in the 32-degree temps.

Thursday morning I awoke to rain.  It finally cleared up around 9:00 a.m., but it was too late to walk and still get to work timely.  So I decided to walk at the end of the work day instead.

Weather-wise, it was worth the wait because yesterday’s unusually warm weather was an anomaly, especially after the cold Spring we’ve endured thus far.  I left the house around 5:30 p.m. and it was 76 degrees!  I had to ponder a few minutes what to wear, having dressed on autopilot for the last five or six months, donning about nine articles of clothing every day.  Hmmm.  Well, I could eliminate the squall coat, hat, gloves and polar fleece vest, even the turtleneck sweater … the possibilities were endless and I had to scramble about to retrieve something suitable to wear, since 90% of my warm weather clothes were still tucked away here, there and everywhere … I mean, the annual Spring warm-up is usually a little more gradual, right?

I got myself together and out the door and arrived at the Park a short time later.  I don’t think anyone cooked dinner last night, but instead stopped for fast food or grabbed some food to cook on the grills that are scattered around the grounds.  It was a hub bub of activity with kids on the playground, their pent-up energy carried over from way too many days spent cooped up in the house.  There were walkers, rollerbladers and bikers all along the perimeter path.

It was, in essence, a whole new Council Point Park being presented to me.

The peace and serenity of the morning jaunt, was replaced by talking, laughter and the squeals of children – yet, it was good to be outside with the sun in your face, a soft and warm breeze stirring your hair again.

The angle of the sun was all wrong … well, just different from what I am accustomed to.

And there was no one there I knew – human or otherwise.

In fact, my trek was devoid of any of the usual wildlife; not a single interaction was to be had, even though, in my rush to get out the door, since I had no coat pockets, I just carried a store bag where I stuffed some Ziploc bags of peanuts and safflower seeds for the usual pals on the path.

But they went unopened because …

… not a single squirrel came to greet me with a look that suggests “what took you so long to get here?”

Not even Parker.

Nor were my newest friends, the cardinals, lurking about in a tree looking to snatch a peanut from the trail when a squirrel was looking the other way.

The ducks were not around and neither were the geese.  No swans either.  Some seagulls were circling like vultures, hoping to grab the dregs of someone’s dinner.

It was a totally different experience and not my usual walk in the Park.

My trip reminded me of a Kmart “Blue Light Special” … a hastily planned event in which humans converge to enjoy an unexpected deal and ultimately come away richer.

I appreciated the chance to escape at the end of the day, but I’m not sure that I’m richer for the experience.

Yes, I gleaned the steps from that five-mile walk to add to my tally of miles walked for 2018, but somehow the special ambiance was missing.  I’ll try to recapture that feeling this morning … just 41 degrees when I depart, so … if I see a heron catching a fish, or squirrels and cardinals jockeying for peanuts, I’ll capture that image, without frozen fingers and with a big smile on my face.