WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It’s the day after Snowmageddon and unfortunately Mother Nature is not quite done with us yet.

This was the biggest snow storm to hit SE Michigan since the Super Bowl Blizzard in 2015 where we got a foot of snow.

Yesterday’s grand total was 9.2 inches of snow.  What made it so bad was we had new snow nearly every day this past week, starting with last Sunday’s 5-inch snowstorm.   I sure am glad I got out while the gettin’ was good the past two weekends.

This morning, I peered out the front door before venturing outside.  I saw humungous hills and valleys of snow and it looked like skiers might come schussing down the street any moment.  I didn’t see any neighbors up and digging out yet, so I decided to take the camera and capture some images of that pristine show for today’s blog.

I suited up to head outside.  The snow had drifted against the screen door; good thing I had a big breakfast so I could give that door a little oomph to get it open.  The sweep had also frozen to the stoop, but luckily it didn’t tear it.

Wow!  It’s a good thing it was a gloomy-looking sky because all that snow would have been blinding.  The sidewalk leading to the backyard had not been shoveled since I finished up yesterday at 9:00 a.m.  As you see in the above picture, snow drifts settled against the fence or blew into mounds along the garden.  Those mounds of snow are not bushes, but mini-mountains made by Mother Nature.

I was wearing knee-high boots and the snow came up over them in some places.  The backyard looked beautiful.  I wonder who visited on the back patio in the wee hours of the morn?

Maybe it was the squirrel who clambered down from that nest way up high in the tree.

I was looking for the blue jay to take a picture of him, but he was MIA.  Then, all of a sudden snow flurries erupted.  I wanted to take more pictures, but didn’t want the camera to get wet, so I hustled to the front yard to take them before a full-fledged blizzard ensued.  There were two City snowplow drivers having a brief rendezvous out front.

Suddenly, one drove off and the other guy came tearing down the street a few minutes later, blading away all those inches of snow and simultaneously depositing ice-filled crud onto the apron of each homeowner’s driveway.   Nice!

That heavy mess gave me an extra hour of work for both driveways.  Our City declared a snow emergency from 9:00 a.m. Friday through 9:00 a.m. Monday, so no one can park on the City streets.  Some people try and do it anyway and usually get a ticket.

Camera in hand, I paused and looked for some interesting shots to best illustrate this massive snowfall.  I meandered over to my neighbor’s house, and, in doing so, put the first footprints of the day on the snowy sidewalk between our two houses.  “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” may be a beautiful Christmas song, but I’d rather be walking on the perimeter path at Council Point Park on a Winter’s day, than on this loooooong length of City sidewalk which I have shoveled nearly every day this week, and countless times already this season.

In the driveway, their car was groaning under the weight of the snow.

The BBQ grill was barely recognizable – after all, we’d had about 10 inches of snow this past week before Snowmageddon.   The backyard looks frozen in time .. just like it usually does all Summer, except blanketed in snow and ice.

Speaking of frozen, check out these lethal-looking icicles which I elaborated on in yesterday’s post.  They look like translucent daggers … or stalactites.  I quickly took the photos, then steered clear of them in case one broke and fell down on me.  It wasn’t until I looked at all my photos tonight, that I noticed some icicles on my own house, despite me crowing about having none yesterday.

This backyard was always a haven for birds, but the neighborhood birds may not feel too welcome right now.

These bird houses, as well as the various garden knickknacks sitting on the wooden rack were similarly dripping with icicles.

I’m sure the cardinals are drawn to this feeder with their likeness on it, but unfortunately it is nearly empty right now.  I like how the feeder nestles right into the bare tree with its branches laden with snow.  I heard the distinctive tweet of a cardinal, probably in my own barberry bush where they usually build their nests – that beautiful red bird would love to feast on some safflower seeds – I just know it.

And out front, that birdbath was topped off with more than a foot of snow, so no baths or drinks today for our fine-feathered friends.

Tea for two?  That table and chairs sure aren’t occupied these days.

I finally decided to quit fiddling with the photos and get crackin’ on the snow shovelin’ – ugh.  The snow is piled as high as my waist in some spots and throwing the snow to the side is getting more difficult.  I have to walk a fair piece just to dump it off the shovel.

We’re getting freezing rain right now, followed by 2-4 more inches of snow.

Somebody up there please make it stop!

The torch relay is complete and the cauldron has been lit by Olympic gold medalist Yuna Kim, who even skated a little before the official lighting.

So let the Winter Games begin.

I used to follow figure skating competition for years and watched every televised skating event for the individual men’s and women’s competitions.  Back in the 80s and 90s, I followed not only the “Battle of the Brians” but the careers of all the young men and women skaters, until slowly each of those skaters eventually went pro or retired.  Though I’m not familiar with anyone competing in the five upcoming Olympic skating events, I will probably try and catch a few performances over the next two weeks.

Tonight I saw snippets of the Opening Day ceremony and heard an interesting factoid.  Apparently, some of the snow made for these Olympics comes from snow-making machines manufactured right here in Michigan.

Truthfully, Michigan could send a lot of the real deal to Pyeongchang without batting an eyelash – there’s a whole lotta snowin’ goin’ on here right now!

First, there was three inches of fresh snow overnight, and since then, the snow has been coming at a fast and furious pace, sometimes at about one inch of snow per hour.  Reports on total depth in my city vary from 8 to 10 inches so far.  Enough already!  The snow had icy pellets and was not the soft and powdery kind like earlier in the week.  It stung my face with tiny, needle-like pings.  I was soaking wet when I came back in the house this morning, dripping snow from the pom-pom on my chullo hat to my lug-soled boots.  My jacket hood blocks my peripheral vision, so I usually keep it pushed back off my head, but,  I’m sure I flicked out at least a shovelful of snow into the laundry tub from inside my jacket hood.

But, enough of me and my travails … at least I didn’t have to go out again later as my neighbor took the snow blower to both our properties around 3:30 p.m.  I was ecstatic, especially as I wasn’t counting on him doing so, since he is recovering from a recent bout of pneumonia.

While outside this morning, between huffing and puffing and hefting and hoisting, I did take a few minutes to gaze at, and appreciate, the snowy vista before tackling all that white stuff.

During the Winter, my neighbor’s yard usually holds more intrigue than mine, like this forlorn-looking fire pit, its embers snuffed out months ago, and now buried beneath more than a foot of accumulated snow.  Firewood is piled up near the garage waiting to take the chill out of a late Spring evening – remind me again what Spring is please.

There are lethal-looking icicles lined up like soldiers, that dare you to get near them, because, should they snap in half, they’d surely stab you and you’d be a goner.  Mercifully, last year’s insulation job now keeps my house icicle free, thus eliminating the need to go along and knock them down one-by-one with a broom handle.

But, ice is everywhere else and I slid more than once after I removed the snow off the sidewalk.  A fellow blogger took a tumble last week after sliding on a snow-covered patch of ice.  She fell hard onto her arm and broke it in three places, necessitating surgery and pins in her left arm.  These days I’m glad to step into the house and onto the landing, and leave that ice and snow behind, because just thinking about poor TJ’s painful ordeal makes me shudder.

Those Winter games may be 6,583 miles away from my house, but I’ve had a Winter game going on in my own yard.

Since I can’t get my kicks in the sticks until the weather gets a whole lot better, I’ve gotten a little nature fix, courtesy of  a beautiful blue jay.  From his high perch in the tall oak tree, this bird, with its distinct crest and beautiful plumage, has been watching me intently while I shovel, the gears in its brain no doubt thinking “gee, I’m glad I don’t have to do that.”  I’ve glanced over more than a few times to see a pair of steely eyes fixed on my every move and the occasional screeching serves to further announce his presence.

So, yesterday I had a little extra time since there was no snow to shovel, save for the mess the snow plow made at the end of the two driveway.  Once again, the blue jay was in residence in his tree, so I reached into my pocket to pull out some peanuts left over from Saturday’s foray to the Park.  I took three peanuts out and placed them on the wall ledge near the garage.  Then I stepped back and watched from around the corner.  That blue jay flew down immediately and swooped by to grab one peanut with his sharp beak.  He’s much too big of a bird to land on the ledge, necessitating a “fly-by” so he repeated that move two more times, gliding by gracefully, collecting his prize and off he went again.  Next, I placed three more peanuts, standing up straight up in the snow.  He was not so eager to dive bomb onto that snow-covered boxwood bush, so he looked at me and I quipped “well, now you’ll have to get your feet wet for these Bud.”  After a moment’s hesitation, there he was, a flash of blue in the gray sky, once again making three trips, perhaps taking them home for the family.  I lingered in the cold to watch him, then demonstrated I had no more peanuts by turning the bag inside out.  He looked dubious, but then flew away.

Today, the snow was flying and I took a breather in the backyard after I saw the blue jay in the same spot.  I swear this savvy bird looked right at my coat pocket as if to insinuate I was holding out on him.  Of course I was packing peanuts in my pocket, so I lined up three on the ledge and another three in the snow just like before, then told him “a peanut for your thoughts my fine feathered friend but I gotta fly now.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as one by one they disappeared, then so did he, just as I was kicking the snow off the shovel and my boots to go into the house.

I wish I’d taken pictures of our little interaction, but it was snowing so heavily I didn’t want to risk taking the camera outside.  But, I am sure this bird is one of many that used to frequent my neighbor Marge’s back deck where she always plied them with treats every morning so she could watch the feeding frenzy from her kitchen window or door wall and take photos of them.

I wonder if this is the same jay that I interacted with today?

I know he’ll be waiting on me tomorrow when I go outside, his newly discovered benefactor and dispenser of peanuts.  Shh – don’t tell the squirrels I’m sharing their goodies!

[Image of fire and ice by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay]

The weatherman told us that Winter is flexing its muscles.  That’s an interesting way to describe the onslaught of snow we’ve received this first week of February.

Old Man Winter is not the only one flexing its muscles.  I fear I’m already looking like Popeye the Sailor Man, that cartoon character from my youth who was always touting his big biceps.  As to me, it’s been three mornings in a row shoveling show, plus tomorrow and Friday, it appears shoveling snow will be my morning agenda as well.

I guess if you have to endure tonight’s 2-3 inch snowfall, you might as well get a giggle over it, as you see in this chart from Click On Detroit’s meteorologist Paul Gross:

For the past three years, I’ve had this “deal” going with my next-door neighbor … I shovel the snow for both our houses all Winter long, and he cuts the lawn for both properties in the growing season.  I’m no math whiz, but I know that you cut the lawn more times than you shovel the snow … um, most years anyway.   The last two Winters have been mild with not too much snow, but this year we’ve been slammed.  My property (and especially the driveway) is half the size of his.  So, you now know why I said grrr to the Groundhog’s prognostication – it wasn’t just about putting a halt to my walking regimen.

The hardest working muscle in your body is the heart.  Good thing my ticker is in good shape, so I can continue to shovel my way through February, a/k/a National Heart Month.

Heart disease runs in my family though, and my grandmother and eight of her nine siblings, succumbed to heart disease.  My mom had a heart arrhythmia.  I hope that giving up red meat three years ago and walking 1,050 miles in 2017 thus makes me heart smart and healthy for a long time.

As to this perpetual snow, I was perplexed that our City’s schools were all closed yesterday.  We ended up getting 5 inches of snow on Sunday, so most of the schools in Michigan closed Monday.  I don’t think we ever got a snow day at junior high or high school – ever!  It was a 2.2 mile round trip daily trudge from my house to those two schools, which were side by side.  I really don’t want to be one of those people that says “when I was your age …” BUT, we didn’t get any breaks when it snowed back in the day.  While my parents never gave me the lecture about walking five miles uphill to a one-room schoolhouse, they insisted that walking to school in the snow would build character, keep me from getting chubby and put roses in my cheeks.  I accepted their logic and now, all these years later, I realize they were spot-on.

You may recall I recently wrote about Jill Wellington, the Michigan photographer whose photos I often use in my blog posts.  Jill has been learning macro photography on her iPhone and posting pictures of water droplets and snowflakes on Facebook.  Above is one of a series of photos of snowflakes that landed on Jill’s outdoor grill.

I commented on how beautiful, unique and delicate those snowflakes were, and how they all stick together to make a snow event like we have today.  Jill lives 120 miles north of me, so she likely will see double the snow that we are having.  While she embraces these snowy days, I am always content to enjoy Winter through Jill’s eyes and the lens of her camera or iPhone … or, so I thought until this morning.

While I was outside shoveling, I got to thinking about those dainty snowflakes and decided that it is tenacity that keeps those fragile flakes from simply melting into thin air, and instead banding together to create measurable snow.   They are kind of like those little acorns that held their own and grew up to be big oak trees.  So, I decided I was going to write a post about those tenacious snowflakes, and the snow, and get some photos while I was at it.

What a difference a day makes.  Yesterday at exactly the same time I was watching the eagles soaring and today it was the snow that was flying.  Saturday’s 4-degree wind chill was brutal and now just a memory, because today, at 9:00 a.m. it was about 40 degrees as you see in the below picture.

The freshly fallen snow was beautiful and there was no one outside but me.  Down the street was a snowy vista on this silent Sunday morn, as not a single car went by, and any noises from the cross street or main drag seemed muffled by the snow.  You could just feel the tranquility in the air.  I disturbed that beautiful snow and the peaceful morn once I started shoveling.  The rhythmic sound of the shovel blade hitting the cement was the only discernible noise and it did interrupt the tranquility.  The flurries were coming fast and furiously and soon the driveway was covered once again by the time I finished shoveling.

I decided today, instead of grumbling about the snow, I’d embrace it, like Jill does, so I went inside to fetch my camera.  I had to change into another coat and hat as the snow on my clothes was dripping everywhere.

These photos were taken after the initial snowfall.  Thankfully we did not get walloped with the 3-6 inches originally predicted, but snow showers are coming tonight, and a couple more inches of snow are slated for Monday and Tuesday overnight as well.

I was admiring the view in my neighbor’s yard and snapped this picture.

Then something stirred slightly, so I zoomed in to see these four sparrows plopped on top of my neighbor’s weeping mulberry tree.  I was fairly close to them and they didn’t budge.  Perhaps they were looking for grub, or lost one of their brethren in the snowy landscape.

The backyard was awash in white.  The dark bag on my log cabin bird feeder, which helps keep the wood from weathering over the Winter, certainly looked out of place in the snowy yard.  The clematis is dormant, and not climbing up the trellis, clinging with its creeping tendrils until the vine curls around the front porch of the log cabin.  Years ago a friend built the log cabin feeder and mounted it on a pole made of PVC pipe.  He guaranteed me the squirrels could not scramble up the pole because it was slippery, and he even staked it in the middle of the yard.  But, the determined squirrels would take a flying leap from the chain-link fence and land on the roof of the feeder, open up the hinged door to access the food, then gorge themselves silly on birdseed.  We tried mixing a special red pepper in the birdseed to deter the squirrels, but they continued to attack the feeder with a vengeance, so I vacuumed it out and it is just ornamental now.

Gazing around the backyard at the sleeping roses and clematises I have there, I know those flowers are tenacious and will be back come Spring … they are like Timex watches that take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.

My neighbor’s trumpet vine spills over the fence all Summer, with vibrant orangy-red blooms dripping everywhere and today its woody stems are blanketed in snow.

An empty chair awaits a colorful planter come May.  It sits next to a snow-laden magnolia bush where, once Spring arrives, the Mama robin will build her nest and raise her young, and I will peek in between the leaves to check them out from time to time.

Jill’s dainty snowflakes and my trip outside reminded me of the saying:

“A snowflake is one of God’s most fragile creations, but look what they can do when they stick together!” ~ Author Unknown

[Image of snowflakes by Jill Wellington]

While I wasn’t standing on the pier along the Detroit River as early as last Sunday morning, today I had my binoculars pressed to my frozen face before most folks enjoyed their first cup of coffee.  Heading out the door into a wind chill of 4 degrees, compared to last Sunday’s balmy 40-degree temperature, was certainly no treat, but, as long as some bald eagles were present at Dingell Park, I would be waiting for them.

I’d not used my binoculars in ages, so I practiced using them at home before leaving.  For many years we had birdfeeders and birdbaths in the backyard, as did our next-door neighbor Marge.  For all seasons, besides bread tidbits, I enticed the birds with Birdola seed bars, black oil sunflower seeds, and suet to attract the cardinals, jays and woodpeckers.  Marge catered to the rest of the crowd with thistle seed socks for the goldfinches, regular seed and millet sprays for the small songbirds, and, in Winter she mounted a few heated bird baths on the deck railing.  At Christmastime, more than once I saw some broken, or slightly burnt cookies lined up along the deck railing, same to be enjoyed on a first-come, first-served basis.  The squirrels usually commandeered the cookies before they even cooled off.  Come Summer I put out birdbaths and Marge had her hummingbird feeders, so there was always a flurry of feathered friend activity to watch with the naked eye or through our binoculars.   That was long before digital cameras were popular, so all the images of those beautiful birds remained in our heads.

When I arrived at Dingell Park, there were just a few people gazing at Mud Island, but no tripods and cameras with long lenses were set up like last week.  I wasn’t surprised because not only was it cold, but gray and gloomy as well.  While I shivered at the river, I had a primo view of Mud Island and the ice floes, but no eagles were out and about yet, so, I took my bag of clementine segments I’d brought for the ducks and had some eager takers for those treats.  The beautiful swan was dining elsewhere this morning.

Finally, there was a sign of life on Mud Island as several bald eagles flew out from the trees at once.  “Wow” was all I could say and that’s exactly what I heard others utter as they stood nearby on the pavilion.  I kept the camera tucked away, because as long as the eagles stayed in the trees, they looked like dark blobs on the bare branches.  One eagle flew down to the ice floe and I fiddled with the binoculars to hone in on him.  Just like last Sunday, I marveled at the magnificent wing span as he descended onto the ice floe.  There he sat, and I could study him up close thanks to the binoculars.  What a menacing look it wore with that long beak, its white head, a sharp contrast to its dark body.  I realized how large a bald eagle really is, so much larger than I thought from my same vantage point last week, but then watching with my naked eye.

I hated to blink, not wanting to miss any action by that eagle, but then my attention was diverted when I saw a streak in the sky and another eagle began its descent from the treetop.  It swooped down, powerful feet outstretched, skimming along the surface, then dipping those clawed feet into the water.  There was a big splash and the eagle flew off with something clasped in those sharp claws.  It happened in an instant and I assume it was a fish, but not a big one.  Poof – he was gone in a flash, those mighty wings powering him back up into the treetops.  That episode is a good example of the term “eagle eye” isn’t it?

The eagle on the ice floe grew tired of the view and finally flew away, and since there was no more activity, I moved on as well, glad for the chance to have had a close-up view of these regal-looking birds.

I warmed up in the car, then headed to Council Point Park, just a few miles away.  Here I was welcomed with open arms, er … paws, by a half-dozen squirrels, only a minute after starting on the trail.  “I know, I know” I told them as I struggled to open the Ziploc bag with my heavy gloves, while trying to keep my furry friends from climbing onto my boots or shimmying up my pant leg (yes, that’s happened in the past when they get impatient, and I don’t especially like it).

Those persistent squirrels  hit pay dirt as I dumped out the entire bag, knowing I had another bag in reserve.  Then I headed along the trail.  I was glad I wore my hiking boots, because, just as I suspected, that one-day warm-up didn’t get rid of the ice and snow on the perimeter path.  On the side closest to the Creek, I was forced to walk on the snowy grass.  The Creek was a skating rink, and, unlike the Detroit River which has a swifter current, the Creek looked to be solid ice.

The submerged trees were frozen in place and I wondered how long until I would be writing about the big turtles that line up on the log to bask in the morning sun.  Four months perhaps?

Todd, the jogger who is a fixture at the Park every weekend all year long, was on the opposite loop.  I saw he had discarded his hoodie on a park bench and I called across to him “you’re making me colder seeing you running with bare arms.”  He kind of shrugged off my comment and said “I’m like a wild animal when I run and don’t feel the cold at all.”

Two trips around the entire Park and I was ready to head home.  I got into the house and the bitter cold had rendered my cheeks as red as my burgundy squall jacket, my nose was running like a sieve and my eyes were watering.  This morning’s bowl of oatmeal had gone to my frozen toes and I was starving from all the fresh air, but first, all I wanted was to wrap my fingers around a hot mug of coffee.

So, now we await the event … this predicted 3-6 inches of new snow.  I looked out a short time ago, and it was snowing lightly and the pavement was covered.  So, I had my outing, and now I think I’d like to hibernate for the rest of the Winter.

Last Sunday I spent a delightful morning at three parks getting my nature fix, then, within 24 hours, the weather went from enjoyable, to bitter cold, snowy and icy.  The wacky roller coaster weather has prevailed this entire Winter season.  On Tuesday, I grumpily proclaimed that my walking shoes would be mothballed, but, along came Wednesday with its temps in the 40s and the cement was once again whisked clean of snow and ice permitting a couple of walks after all.  Now, a 3-6 inch snowstorm looms on the horizon.

So, do we have blind faith in the meteorologists with their fancy models and balloons to predict tomorrow’s storm, or can those savvy weather guys and gals really foretell the long-range forecast?

We either believe them, or hang onto the mid-Winter words of a furry little critter that makes a “prediction” every February 2^nd for Groundhog Day.

Well, today dawned bright and sunny, so Punxsutawney Phil did see his shadow in Gobbler’s Knob, Pennsylvania, and the crowd cheered, and I wondered aloud why they did so???

Here in Michigan, we have our own furry weather prognosticator, “Woody, the Woodchuck”, and she lives at the Howell Nature Center.  Every February 2^nd, at 8:15 a.m., the naturalists at the Center open Woody’s door to her “house” and, if she ventures outside within 30 seconds, it means Spring is on the way.  This morning she stayed put.  Can you blame her, I mean, who wants to go out with temps in the teens, even if you are wearing a fur coat?  This little lady’s prediction rate is more accurate than Phil’s (15 out of 19 times); Phil is only correct 38% of the time.  Woody’s handlers say her predictions are correct since she bases them on a woman’s intuition.

Two furry rodents made the same prognostication today, so it will continue to be a long cold Winter.

Enough of predictions and intuitions … now it is time to deal with recognitions.

Mother Nature was not the only one that was full of surprises this week.  Noor, a fellow blogger here on WordPress, nominated me for a Liebster Award.  I read Noor’s post and was not only astounded, but honored.

The Liebster Award is recognition by another blogger to show appreciation and respect for your blog and your dedication to it, and was created to recognize and/or discover new bloggers in the WordPress world.  I acknowledged Noor’s nomination and thanked her, and my task was to  nominate 11 more bloggers and recognize their work.

But, I soon realized I faced a dilemma, because in giving a shout-out to some bloggers I follow, I am forsaking others, which hardly seemed fair or equitable.

To be honest, soon I will celebrate the 5^th anniversary of this blog, and I’ve never really tried to gain more subscribers.  I created the site, and, using my gift of gab, kept churning out posts on a myriad of topics, mostly walking, some 1,065 to date.  Evidently, I should have taken WordPress Blogging 101, since I’ve never tagged my posts or searched out other bloggers.  All along, I have had a handful of subscribers, and you know who you are, the faithful who have commented on my posts, identified with, lamented or laughed about that day’s narrative, or, even felt sadness over the occasional tribute I’ve made.   These faithful folks were from the “outside world” and not WordPress bloggers, but, all that changed around Thanksgiving.  Suddenly, the “likes” and “comments” increased and my WordPress followers began to grow in leaps and bounds.  I surmise one WordPress blogger latched onto my blog in a search and followed me, I reciprocated, and commented on their posts, and some of their followers soon became my followers.  Today, I received notice of my 50^th follower!  Some of you may have hundreds or thousands of followers, but this was quite the coup for me.

By Christmas, I’d discovered many new blogging pals, not necessarily from my blog genre.  Like me, there are bloggers who similarly appreciate nature, but many of my new followers fill their blogs with stories of tears and fears, hopes and dreams, personal goals, self-improvement – the topics are diverse.

For me, who works from home and does not interact with a variety of personalities in the workplace like most of you probably do, it’s been a prolonged virtual meet-and-greet of bloggers and personalities from all around the world.

It’s interesting to read the perspective on school’s trials and tribulations, and current events by a 20-something California college student.  Actually, I find many similarities in our views and experiences, despite our 40-year age difference, and, sometimes I relive some of those rigors of college when reading his posts.

I’ve often identified with a young Finn who fills her posts with quotes, poems and tidbits of interest.  She finds beauty in this world in the form of felines with her feature “Caturday” or provides interesting images of her native Finland.

There are blogs by women, about women, and for women – they pour their respective hearts and souls into their writing, and, I often find myself with eyes glued to the computer screen, nodding my head in silent agreement.  The years fall away sometimes, as it does not matter if I’m reading the words of a woman my age, or a younger woman, all whom have embarked on a career, or pursued an interest, recounted a story from her past … we’ve all been there, and it seems we all have a tale to tell.

On the lighter side, you’ve enlightened me with your passions, whether it is as an artist, or simply dabbling in arts and crafts.  Creativity abounds, from the blogger in England who leaves me laughing with his daily limericks, to the blogger who describes their work as “abstract absurdist literature” and, as to creativity, I sometimes feel my daily trudge report pales in comparison to these imaginative offerings, leaving me pondering whether the words “wit and whimsy” should truly remain a part of my blog title.

But sadly, life is not all fun and games, as we all know.  I’ve also read your heartbreaking posts about losing a child, the angst of mental illness, and how you cope with catastrophic diseases like cancer or lupus … even the ordeal of dealing with divorce.

There are several travel blogs I’m following, and those posts chronicle trips that I vicariously enjoy, sometimes pegging them as potential bucket list items, but, realistically, would there be enough years left for me to take all those trips that I read about?  Probably not, so perhaps I’ll just enjoy those bloggers’ narratives and images which paint pictures so vivid that I’ve felt like I was along for the ride, despite sitting right here at my kitchen table.  Sometimes those travel posts evoke memories from venues visited back when I travelled in my 20s and 30s.

I’ve also learned plenty about life in these United States, and, with just a few clicks of my mouse, I’ve immersed myself in tales and viewed photos about getting around snowy Alaska, enjoyed the beauty of the country roads in Tennessee, glimpsed rural life in Northern Michigan, and oohed and aahed over magnificent images of the sun and all things nature taken in a blogger’s backyard in the Great Plains of Nebraska.

I’m impressed and wowed by each of these posts.

So, back to my dilemma … how do I single out my eleven favorite blogs to similarly nominate their creators for the Liebster award?

Sorry … after much soul searching, I am going to graciously decline Noor’s offer, as I’ve never played favorites and can’t start doing so now.  Ultimately someone’s feelings will be hurt, or they will wind up disappointed.  I accept your praise Noor, and thank ALL of you for your virtual camaraderie which keeps me company on these cold SE Michigan Winter nights.

So, I’m feelin’ and sharin’ the love on this Groundhog Day, for I must do something to create some warmth as Winter still looms large.