WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Sadly, our Spring-like interlude is over and the snow, ice and bitter cold that is the reality of Winter, came rushing back with a vengeance.

Many of us are miffed here in the Mitten State because all the weather forecasters promised this week would be beautiful, but cold, then late Sunday night there was chatter about a dusting of snow.  By Monday morning, that “dusting” had morphed into a four-inch snowfall, accompanied by freezing rain and a Winter Weather Advisory.

Of course, your roving reporter deferred all of her errands from last week to this week, so she could go gallivanting at the parks and piers, just because she really needed that “nature fix” … that was a bad move for this Winter Weenie who dislikes driving in the snow.

Though my posts and photos were prolific recently, I’m mothballing my walking shoes for a while because we have another snow and ice event coming up this Saturday.  It appears that someone stepped on Mother Nature’s toes and got her riled up.

There are even more clouds on the horizon, because the viewing of the spectacular Super Blue Blood Moon will be hampered by clouds here in Southeast Michigan, thus obstructing our view.  Hopefully, those gloomy skies and cloud cover stay in place until Friday so that Punxsutawney Phil CANNOT see his shadow.  I’d sure welcome Spring’s early arrival – you too?

The clock alarm started buzzing, interrupting my sound sleep.  “Alright already!” I cried, as if that statement alone would stop the annoying noise.  I thought about today’s agenda and was prepared to hit the snooze button at least a dozen times before getting up.  Grocery shopping and housework didn’t appeal to me much and today’s walk would likely be incorporated into the trip to the grocery store.

I switched on the news and heard the weather forecast – 40s and a bright and sunny day with a potential inch of snow tonight.  Well, there goes the walking … for a few days anyway, until the sidewalks and pathway are clear again.  In a heartbeat I said “Pfft” and  decided my task list could wait for another time, because I was going to River for a long walk and to take some pictures and enjoy my day … so there!

I’ve been inspired by a fellow blogger’s sunrise and sunset photos which accompany his blog posts, and, it is difficult to take such a picture here at the house with no obstructions in my view, so I aimed to get to Bishop Park in Wyandotte to catch some rays so to speak.  I missed the mark on capturing those vibrant shades like Keith does at https://uncletreeshouse.com/ … but, by the time I drove five miles to the Detroit River, I still was able to enjoy some of the sunrise with this view from Bishop Park and its river walk:

I strolled along, mere inches from the Detroit River which gently lapped against the pier as I walked by.

Besides me, there was a walker, a jogger and a pair of geese who indulged me with their synchronized swimming routine.  The seagulls must’ve been out scrounging for breakfast, as they were conspicuously absent.

I stayed at that venue about an hour, then headed along the same street to John Dingell Park in Ecorse.  It is similarly situated along the riverfront and just a few miles down the road.  I had never been to this park, but have heard about the eagles that live on Mud Island, which is one of several coastal wetlands in the Detroit River.  The Ecorse Channel separates the City of Ecorse and its riverfront from this 22-acre uninhabited island that is refuge to deer and many species of birds, including eagles.  Below is a photo showing Mud Island in the foreground.

I arrived around 9:30 and several people were already gathered on the pavilion hoping to see some of those eagles.  I spoke with a couple who told me they saw 23 of them in one afternoon recently.  They each had their binoculars trained on Mud Island, where the eagles like to fly from tree to tree, or swoop down onto the ice-covered water in Winter.  I was told there were more eagle sightings this year since it had been such a brutally cold season, causing most of the Detroit River to freeze over.

I soon discovered I was not the only person interested in watching the eagles.  In the pavilion area, people seemed to be divided into two factions:  the serious “birders” with their elaborate photography equipment such as cameras on tripods with extra-long lenses, and then there were the folks who were glued to the horizon via their binoculars.  Every so often you would hear oohs and ahhs when an eagle flew across from Mud Island and landed on an ice floe, like this:

He had a magnificent wingspan.

A few of us kindred souls gathered together to enjoy the ducks that were either frolicking or snoozing nearby, in water so clear you could see through it.

A Mute Swan was hunkered down near the pavilion area and spent most of its time preening, as it let its guard down, seemingly unaffected by the close proximity to all these humans using  smartphones or cameras to capture its regal beauty.

“Ho hum” is all it seemed to say and continued on about its business …

… that is, until a young man standing near me unpeeled a banana and started throwing chunks of it toward this beautiful creature.  The swan was immediately energized, stopping its beauty routine, to grab and gulp down some banana pieces.  I turned to the gentleman and said “who knew?”  He seemed surprised as well, and soon the swan came right up to the pavilion railing, poking its long orange bill close to the man’s hand, eager to finish off that entire tasty treat.  But instead, his benefactor tossed out the remaining banana pieces to the mallards, who similarly clamored for a sweet tidbit by waddling closer with their wide webbed feet and quacking all the while.

I watched as this man then pulled some walnuts out of a bag and threw them toward the swan and ducks, and once again there was a mad rush, with the swan getting the majority of the treats.  I said I wished I had something to give them, but only had peanuts which were stuffed in my pocket.  He said “you could try – I don’t think it would choke him, do you?”  So I tossed out one, and the swan grabbed it, cracked open the shell and gobbled it down in a second.  I turned to the young man and said “please don’t let me get home and Google ‘is it safe to feed swans peanuts?’ and discover it is a no-no for their diet.”  He laughed.  (I Googled and it is okay to feed them peanuts – whew!)

I left the feeding frenzy and strolled along the river walk at Dingell Park enjoying the beautiful day.

There were many large pieces of ice floating along in the River’s swift current.  They sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, and, as they bumped up against one another, it sounded like the clink of ice cubes in a glass.

The Canada Geese were everywhere, swimming in pairs, or large groups, and I was lucky enough to be gazing at some geese when their signal caller told them it was time to take off.  They left the surface of the water in a flurry and I wondered what the hurry was as they made a lot of noise just to fly over to the Park area to graze on the grass.

After walking the riverfront twice, I went to take one last photo and the camera rebelled saying “charge battery!”  I guess I took too many pictures today.

Like the geese, it was time for me to fly as well, but I hated to head home on this beautiful Sunday, so I decided to go to my old standby, Council Point Park, to get a few more miles walked.  Might as well make the squirrels’ day too.  I walked two loops, the equivalent of two miles, there.

I ended up putting a dozen miles on the car, five miles on my feet and a wide smile on my face today.

Well, it’s not as if the Ecorse Creek at Council Point Park is extraordinarily special.  Most months of the year, it is a murky-looking color of brown.  This body of water is certainly not worthy of reflection like Walden Pond was to Thoreau.  It is merely a portion of the 18-mile-long Ecorse River and is a habitat for many water fowl who live there.

On one side of the Creek is Council Point Park, and, on the opposite side, in some places it borders homes in Wyandotte, and other portions butt up against a wooded area.  There is no bridge to access the other side.

Of significance, is that Council Point Park is right in the middle of our city, and Lincoln Park is hardly a rural area.

When I first began walking at the Park in 2013, I was told tales of coyotes, fox and deer that lived across the Creek in the densely wooded area, and that they would be easy to spot in Winter with all the bare brush and trees and snowy backdrop.  Maybe they were tall tales, because each Winter I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of these critters, but I’ve never seen any.

When I was at the Park yesterday, (on what I termed “Frosty Fingers Friday”), I took several pictures of the ice-covered Creek.  Some portions were solid ice, with huge fallen trees frozen in place, smack dab in the middle of the Creek.

In other portions, you could see the water through the thin ice.

Upon examining the photos I took yesterday, I wondered anew if some of the critters yonder across the Creek would ever attempt to cross to the Park side by walking on the ice?  Hmmm.  Who knows what might be lurking in the brush, besides that roly-poly gopher, as I amble along on my walk?

I needn’t have wondered (or worried) for long, since the 51-degree temps Friday afternoon caused a lot of the ice to dissolve and float down the center of the Creek in the form of mini ice floes.  The mallards were mixing and mingling in the water as chunks of ice drifted past them.  I saw a heron standing on one thin leg, in a stork-like pose, atop a partially submerged tree.  That was my first sighting of the heron since last Fall.  I would have liked to get a photo of him, but I didn’t bring my camera along as the wind was gusting to 25 mph and I didn’t want to get any debris in the camera.

But, not toting the camera with me was a mistake, since it seemed like Ol’ Sol was quite conflicted this morning.  As I wended my way to the Park, I watched the sun repeatedly attempting to peek through the gray mottled sky, adding some pale pastel hues here and there for just a few seconds, then disappearing again.  It would have been an interesting photo.  Just as I arrived at Council Point Park, the sun finally gave up and slunk behind the clouds for good.

I sure was glad I’d donned my Chullo-style hat and tied it under my chin to keep it from going airborne in the stiff breeze.  I always feel like an oversized kid wearing this goofy-looking hat with the earflaps and pom-pom straps, but at least it stayed put and didn’t go somersaulting down the street, or snag onto a branch over the Creek, like my wool caps have done in the past on a breezy day.

The regular crowd has still not returned, perhaps put off by the wicked wind, but the squirrels came out in full force this morning, eager for a treat.

Today I made up for yesterday’s scanty steps by walking about 9,000 steps, which is 4 ½ miles.

Before I left for home, I scanned the Park one more time looking for any unusual critters from across the pond, er … Creek.  Nope, nothing out of the ordinary.  So, perhaps what happens yonder across the Creek, stays yonder across the Creek?  Maybe it’s all just an urban legend?

I may never know, and, as they say “the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.”

It was a glorious Friday here in Southeast Michigan, despite the frosty temperature this morning.   The sun put in an early appearance, busting through the clouds with a big burst of energy and bathing the Earth in a warm glow.  Have you noticed how the days are getting longer and sunrise is noticeably earlier these days?  While we’re not speeding toward Summer just yet, it sure makes this tail end of January more tolerable.

I left earlier than usual to take the car for a spin before I landed at Council Point Park.  The rest of the walkers may not be back in the swing of things, but I am, and the squirrels are too.  (I knew those little critters would come around eventually.)

Although I never saw any humans or squirrels on Wednesday, my first day back to Council Point Park, yesterday, I spied a pair of them up in a tall tree peering over the side of their nest at me.  Ahh – a sign of life!  I pulled the Ziploc bag of peanuts from my jacket pocket and rattled it as I usually do, and sure enough, those two squirrels began a quick descent to ground level.

Today I similarly enticed a squirrel from his perch in a tall tree.  But, he was a tougher customer for some reason.  He eyed me suspiciously at first, and, I had to keep shaking the Ziploc bag to lure him down.   He must have been a newbie at the Park since he was so wary.

It was only about 27 degrees at that time, and, even though I was wearing mittens that flip back to fingerless gloves, my patience was getting a wee bit thin as my fingertips started feeling frozen.  There I stood, holding the camera in one hand, and the open bag of peanuts in the other, looking a little like a fool, and wishing he would hurry up.  But instead, he kept stopping to scrutinize me while flicking his tail vigorously at each “rest stop” as  he travelled down that tree.  I wanted to tell him “ya snooze, ya lose” but I just used his reticence as a photo opportunity, as he picked his way carefully down through the bare branches.

When he finally arrived at ground level, he was wearing a look of disdain as if to say “I’m here – where are the peanuts please?”  I tipped the bag over and poured some out onto the asphalt path, since my other hand still held onto the camera.  He wasn’t very sociable, so I moved along, eager to put the camera back in its case and jam my ice-cold hands into my jacket pockets.

But having the camera and my hands tucked away was short-lived.  The Ecorse Creek is still frozen over and devoid of ducks, and there were no crows today, but, I did see a flash of scarlet in the brush and discovered a sweet Downy Woodpecker drilling into a thin sapling.  His head with its vibrant red patch gave him away, but his little body was nearly a blur since he was so intent on boring into that wood.  I moved in closer to him, but, by the time I fumbled with the mittens, camera and my still-frozen fingertips, I must have startled him and he disappeared into the brush.

All too soon it was time to leave, and, as I headed back to the car I was thinking that I may have missed out on an extra mile of walking due to fiddling with photos and peanuts, but the peace and solitude of being one with Mother Nature’s gifts on a mid-Winter day gleaned more than those few measly steps would have.

Well, it felt like forever and a day since I last walked at my favorite nature nook.  That’s because it was one month ago today when I was last there.  You may recall my blog post recounting my encounter with the Park critters who dressed to impress on Christmas Eve.  Here is the link in case you missed it:  https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/12/24/twas-the-day-before-christmas/

I decided my long-anticipated return to Council Point Park would be this morning.  It was cold, but the pavement was dry, so off I went, in high spirits, with my camera in tow, plus the deep pockets of my squall jacket brimming with bags of peanuts for the squirrels and cut-up bread for the ducks.

This was the longest walk I’ve undertaken in weeks and I logged four miles.  Those treks to walk laps in the grass at Memorial Park and Ford Park, both near my home, yielded two or three miles on most days.

After wending my way down Pagel Avenue and crossing busy River Drive, I did not see a single car in the parking lot at Council Point Park.  I naturally assumed the regular walkers were still avoiding the Park due to the slippery perimeter path, which is dicey walking, especially the portion of the trail that is so close to the water.  But, I was happy to discover the last three days of constant rain and balmy temps had scoured the ice and snow from the pathway, even though thick ice remained along the banks of the Ecorse Creek and a thinner veil of ice still covered the remainder of the water.

Unfortunately, due to that icy Creek, the mallards and geese were missing and I had planned to entice them for a close-up photo with my yeasty tidbits.  The squirrels were also M.I.A., even Parker, my favorite squirrel, who always comes to show me some love as soon as he spies me in the parking lot.  So, my plan to dispense extra peanuts in one fell swoop, to make up for my lengthy absence, soon fell apart.  I gazed up into the tall bare trees to see if my furry friends were tucked in their nests, but I saw no action up there.  That’s okay – I’ll be back tomorrow to try and entice those furry pals out of their hidey-holes for a photo op and some treats.

So, it was a solitary walk along the perimeter path … just me and my thoughts.  Even my shadow did not accompany me this morning, as the sky was gray and gloomy with traces of snow that occasionally drifted lazily in front of my face, reminding me of those lightweight curls of burnt paper that suddenly go airborne when you build a bonfire.

I walked along, taking in the scenery, blah to be sure, but it still filled me with contentment as I enjoyed the familiarity of my routine.  I even took the camera out to capture a few images along the way, like several seagulls gliding overhead, dark slashes in a streaky-looking sky.  Then, I put the camera away and returned to my woolgathering when a crow’s sudden verbal attack startled me and quickly interrupted my reverie.  I caught a glimpse of a huge crow who flew down, seemingly out of nowhere, and perched in a tree near my head.  Where did that big crow come from?  His persistent loud cawing interrupted the peace and quiet of the moment.  If he would have had better manners, I might have shared my bread with him, but he kept flitting from branch to branch and tree to tree, following me as I walked along the pathway.  His cantankerous and unusual actions made me think twice about tangling with this not-so-fine-feathered-friend.

It sure was good to be back and it felt like old times, even if the gang was missing.

While the title of this blog post may sound like a self-help book for middle-aged brain fatigue, it was actually the last weather forecast I heard before meandering outside this morning.  Just like yesterday, it was gray and gloomy, but I was not about to complain … no, not me, after I whined incessantly about the snow, ice and brutal temps.  So, I suited up in the interest of gleaning more steps.

Unlike today, our soggy Sunday was not a total washout, and I waited for my window of opportunity and headed out.  I got a couple of miles walked, even though every step felt like  my boot heels were squishing and sinking right into the grass at Memorial Park.

This morning, buoyed by this January thaw, I ventured into the mist, happily wearing walking shoes for the first time in almost six weeks.  But, I hadn’t strayed far on my foray through the ‘hood  when the first raindrops bounced off my nose – well, so much for that.  I wheeled around and headed for home.

A car whizzed by and barely missed drenching me with a salty splash of water that languished in a pothole, and I heard the dregs of the snow melt gurgling through the sewer.  Good riddance to that snow, and I’m hoping the third time is the charm with all the snow melting away … the last two times, we enjoyed balmy weather and the next day we had snow.

While walking home I heard a noise overhead and a passel of squirrels ran single file on the power line.  No, I didn’t hear the clicking of their toenails, but they were chattering among themselves while traversing the cross street.  Considering they are still sporting their Winter girth, they were nimble as they raced overhead, not giving a whit about the rain that was falling gently and splish-splashing in the pothole puddles that are everywhere.

As I neared the house, I saw a robin on the lawn – the first one this year for me.  It is way too early for worms, or he would have been giving me the evil eye and a scowl as I cut across the lawn, perhaps trampling on his anticipated juicy breakfast.

Winter marches on, but I’ve resumed the walking regimen … for now.

Woo-hoo, I’ve walked a total of twelve miles in 2018, as of today.  That lowly total is hardly something to brag about, and, I know I have a loooong way to go to top last year’s total of 1,050 miles walked in 2017.

In my defense, this year’s weather got me started off on the wrong foot, er … boot.  Honestly, if it was not frosty temps with brutal wind chills, it was snowing, or freezing rain.  Or the cement was covered in ice.  How can I gain traction in my walking regimen, when I can barely gain traction to walk to the garage on an ice-slickened sidewalk?   I’ve lost count how many times my morning agenda was shoveling.

So, I waited it all out, with crossed arms, while tapping my foot.

My patience finally paid off, and the past three mornings I’ve strayed over to Memorial Park which is fairly close to my house.  I’ve been walking on the snowy grass, doing laps around the park, meandering past the memorial monuments to the City’s war dead and the big canon.  The flag was flapping in the brisk breeze this morning – yes, that 20 mph wind and 22-degree temperature sure put some color in my cheeks, but, more importantly, I had a spring in my step once more, as I was glad to be back into the walking routine.

The bare trees and snow-covered benches made the park look very barren in shades of strictly black and white.  I suspect after tomorrow’s brief warm-up, the grass will start peeking through the snow and add a touch of color to the landscape over there.

As I began my trek, I watched some chickadees flitting from branch to branch and wished I’d brought along some bread for them, even though they seemed a little skittish in my presence, and quickly relocated to another tree almost as soon as I encountered them.  I wanted to call out “have no fear little ones, as I mean no harm and I’ll take care of you tomorrow.”

Also on that first complete lap around Memorial Park, I passed a group of squirrels playing tag.  At first they were oblivious to me as they raced around in the snow, and up and down the trees.  On that second go-around, they had finished playing but were scrounging for food, down on all fours, their muzzles covered in snow.  I approached three of them, and tossed some peanuts in their direction, and watched those treats quickly disappear into the snow.  It didn’t matter as the trio seemed wary of me and each one scampered away.

I tried to interact with those squirrels back in December when I was walking at this park, but, even then, they were not as friendly as the squirrels at Council Point Park, whose mamas teach them early how to beg once they catch sight of a human who has a pouch of peanuts in their hand or pocket.  The squirrels are a big part of my daily walks at that venue, and, of course, when they’re standing up on haunches, flicking a furry tail and then creeping over to my walking shoe toes, just endears them to me more.

Clearly these Memorial Park critters need to be broken in, as they see me as a tall stranger tromping through their domain.  Perhaps when the snow begins to fade away tomorrow, and they spy their peanuts that magically will appear, they’ll recognize me as a trusted friend to them going forward.

Today’s blog post photo is a painting by my artist friend Maggie Rust.

Oh, the drudgery of this Winter.

I went outside Monday morning and it was already snowing lightly and it continued all the way to sundown.  Those were light and fluffy flakes, but they glommed together to yield nearly three inches of fresh snow.

Now, if you’re a glass half-full person, we’ve made it halfway through January, and, on the plus side, the days are getting longer, but, let’s face facts … another two months of Winter are waiting in the wings.  A pessimist might say there will be many more days of a frosty vapor coming from your mouth when you exit the house, and steamed-up eyeglasses when you come back inside.

When I went out to shovel this morning it was beautiful – okay, I’ll give credit to Mother Nature who did a superb job of turning the dull and blah-looking landscape (since most of the snow had melted), into a Winter wonderland.  It was difficult to appreciate those efforts though, since snowflakes were twinkling down and settling onto my clothes the entire time I was shoveling.

I know we were spoiled by that nice November weather, but Winter has really become a drag at this point.  Not only those intermittent Arctic chills, but the snow and ice have all overstayed their welcome.

There were a few observations I saw as I meandered around the backyard, not necessarily looking for trouble, but  …

This morning was all about tracks and cracks.

In the front there were no tracks, unless you want to count those from my lug-soled boots while I hefted shovelfuls of powdery snow.  But, as I walked to the backyard, there had been a ton of activity with a mishmash of critter tracks in the freshly fallen snow.  There were the delicate bird feet that had alighted and left marks that only slightly marred the frosty surface and tiny paw prints of a squirrel as it scurried up and down the side of the house.  I wonder what critter made the odd tracks that looked like someone was playing “Xs” and “Os” … hmm?   Then, there were some tracks with a tail dragging behind it making a deep ridge in the bright-white snow.

Once that three inches of snow was moved away and cement exposed, the casualties of this cold/warm thaw cycle we experienced last week were evident, with cracks and fissures on the sidewalk, as well as where the porch meets the house.  I felt I could almost hear that crack widening as I studied it … crrrrrack.  Ouch!  The cracks did not crack me up this morning and I thumped the shovel down with a thud, then hurried back into the house to shed my layers and wrap  my fingers around a warm cup of joe.

P.S. – I am late getting this blog post finished.  I was typing away, when I heard a loud noise over an hour ago … was it inside?  Outside?  The critters in the backyard making mischief?  I finally went back to this post, but curiosity got the best of me and I looked on the Downriver Crime Alerts site I follow on Facebook.  The site had lit up with talk of the boom and the flash and I turned on the radio – the consensus is we had a large meteor explode here in Southeast Michigan.  Then I lost my internet connection for an hour.  Meteor dust sprinkled around?  Talk about things that go bump in the night.  All I can say is that I’m posting post-haste before anything else happens.

Here in Southeast Michigan, as well as many states in the nation, we’ve hunkered down for the second weekend in a row to escape the brutal cold.  If you stepped outside your igloo, er … home, for too long, you’d have frostbite for sure, so why not stay inside where it is cozy and enjoy that down time with a book, or a movie, or both?

As for me, I’ve kind of lost track of time, first, with those two long weekends, then, with my boss being on vacation and out of the country, and not in touch for a solid week.  My whole routine has just gone kaput.  Every day seemed out of whack somehow, beginning with the absence of my daily walk, an important and huge part of my day.  I’m such a creature of habit, but, perhaps with a normal work day resuming on Monday, I can get back to some semblance of order and settle into the old routine again.  As to when a full-sized walk will happen, I have no clue.

I stepped outside this morning to brutal temps and onto a sidewalk which resembled an old-fashioned washboard.  All the snow had melted during our tropical-feeling Thursday, then Friday’s freezing rain splattered and spackled up all that nice clear pavement.  Then came the nuisance snow, which was predicted to be 2-4 inches, but was only about one inch.  So, I stood outside, shovel in one hand, broom in the other, trying to decide if I should just leave that light cushion of snow on the slippery City sidewalk and risk getting ticketed by the City, or go ahead and sweep it off.  I opted for the latter, thus satisfying the City’s code for snow removal, and also affording someone an opportunity to tromp over the snow that remained around the ragged-looking sweep marks to keep from falling on my property.

Of course I mumbled and grumbled the entire trip outside as the wind chill was minus 5, and, I even uttered a promise to myself that sounded vaguely similar to Scarlett O’Hara’s famous line in “Gone With the Wind”  i.e. “as God is my witness, I’ll never complain about the hot weather again!”

Speaking of movies, my boss is now “Out of Africa” and was wheels up as of 2:00 p.m. today – it will take 21 hours to return to Detroit.  This morning he sent me a slew of photos  taken on the safaris this week, and my favorite was a coy-looking lioness who resembled Elsa from the “Born Free”  books and movies series I enjoyed as a youngster.

I’m sure I’m not alone in saying Spring cannot get here quickly enough.  I have no doubt that the Groundhog will see his shadow come February 2^nd giving us six more weeks of Winter.  Ugh.

[Image of igloo from Clker-Free Vector Images]

Mother Nature relented a little today and teased us with a record-breaking 57 degrees.  It was positively blissful to step outside on a 50-degree morning.  For a minute I thought we skipped ahead to Spring.  The temperate weather almost made up for two weeks of bone-chilling temps, multiple snowfalls and back-to-back mornings that began with freezing rain.

I had to take the car out for a spin, so I headed out early, still in boots and not willing to risk wearing walking shoes just yet.  I drove over to Council Point Park, and, as I rolled along River Drive, I glanced over at my favorite nature nook and there was not a single soul walking along the perimeter path, so I didn’t even pull into the parking lot.  I had my misgivings anyway, as I’ve slid a few times as early as mid-October when the perimeter path was slickened up with black ice.  So, I headed back home again, tucked the car into the garage and headed to Memorial Park to do a few laps on the grass.

As I walked through the neighborhood to get there, I realized that the late March feel was just that – a FEELING only, as the streets were still studded with patches of ice, so my route was a little dicey.  There were no bright-green tulip or daffodil blades poking through the still-cold earth, nor, any delicate snowdrops peeking through a thin layer of ice.  Nope, sadly it is Winter that is still in full bloom.  I was amazed how the snow has almost vanished, especially since we just got another 3-inch snowfall Sunday night.  The ‘hood snowmen are mere images of their former selves, having slimmed down considerably once the balmy temps set in – wouldn’t we humans just love to shed that pound or two or three gained from gobbling holiday goodies just as easily as those snowmen!

This weather is just so crazy, leaving us dazed and confused.  The Plymouth Ice Festival begins tomorrow and the all the carvers’ handiwork had to be protected with dry ice for the first time in the history of this annual event, otherwise, those finished ice carvings would have been reduced to a lukewarm puddle.

Unfortunately, this delightful sorbet, a brief pause in Winter, will have a fate like Cinderella’s magical evening, as reality sets in once again with more freezing rain and another 2-4 inches of snow Friday.

I was glad to add 1 ½ miles of steps to my tiny tally – the year is young, but every little bit counts.

[Image of snowman by Open Clip Art from Pixabay]