WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Perhaps I was way too ambitious thinking I’d be walking this week – outside that is.

In my mind’s eye, I only thought about those upcoming balmy 40- and 50-degree temps, and how delightful it would be getting back into my normal walking regimen again.  Of course, all those delightful degrees are happening in the middle of the afternoon, so it’s definitely not doable for me since I’m “minding the store” (albeit virtually), while my boss is incommunicado in the boonies.

I really didn’t hold my breath about walking this morning since WWJ’s traffic reporter was utterly breathless with his list of fender benders and multiple-vehicle crashes, and, what vehicles didn’t slide into retaining walls, or each other like bumper cars at a carnival, were getting flat tires after driving over tire-eating potholes during this mini thaw we’re having.  The weatherman, who follows the traffic reporter, kept reminding us since we’ve been in the deep freeze for the past two weeks, that ice-cold cement was going to be slippery after yesterday’s snow melted.

So, as I suited up for my daily trudge to the garage, I didn’t hold out much hope for a walk.  On the bright side, at least there was not three inches of wet snow to shovel like yesterday.

When I opened the door I saw 30 degrees on my neighbor’s thermometer, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and, yes, even a bird was singing joyously in a nearby tree.  So it was all good, except for one small detail – the sidewalk and driveway looked like the glaze atop a warm Krispy Kreme donut.

I stepped out of the door and walked gingerly to the garage to start the car and returned on the same path, still taking baby steps, but, then happy to be inside the house and trade my lug-soled snow boots for Sherpa-lined slippers, and the ability to walk without hesitation.

Of course I wanted to mutter that Winter is for the birds.  Sure, that little bird was singing its heart out, but then again, it did not have to walk, or worse … drive on this slippery stuff.  I tried to whistle back and sing along with this bird as I often do, matching note for note, but all that came out of my mouth was a poor rendition of “Slip Slidin’ Away” – believe me, Simon and Garfunkel did it better than me and my fine feathered friend.

… bubble wrap in my boots, I set forth on a Sunday stroll.

Finally, the weather was somewhat decent, if “decent” could be described as a dozen degrees above zero air temperature and minus three wind chill.  That was at 11:00 a.m. when I stepped outside.  My journey was not intended to be long, mostly just to get some steps in and put some color in my cheeks, before the next round of snow comes tonight … two to four inches, depending on your weather source.  Groan!

On the plus side, today was the first day the temperature got above 20 degrees since Christmas Day and we are promised a balmy 41 degrees on Wednesday and all the way up to 48 degrees on Thursday.  So, maybe all the ice and snow will melt and go away… until  next November.  The robins will be ecstatic because some frozen worms just might thaw out for a tasty treat for them.

Someone recommended using bubble wrap inside the hiking boots to break them in, so, I wrapped my ankles with bubble wrap under my socks to keep these high-rise boots from rubbing against my ankles.  The way I see it, I’m adding another five minutes to getting suited up in the morning, as I position the bubble wrap just right, then use paper tape to secure it properly.  It’s worse than when Mom dressed me in umpteen layers to go outside and play with the neighborhood kids back in Oakville, Ontario all those years ago.   Many of the sidewalks in the neighborhood were not shoveled, so wearing walking shoes was out of the question.  I’m still not humming “These Boots Are Made For Walking” nor am I bubbling over in enthusiasm about them either.

I made a quick trip to the park by my house and took along the camera and some peanuts, but because I was prepared this time, there were no squirrels and the snow was nothing spectacular, so I didn’t even pull the camera out from underneath my coat.

My friend Ann Marie, also an avid walker, promises to never complain about temperatures in the 30s and 40s again, and, I likewise informed her I won’t whine about those “Dog Days of Summer” when they finally arrive, because I’ll hop in the car, drive to Meijer and get my steps in that way.

Meanwhile, my boss called me Friday night as he was leaving Cape Town for Botswana yesterday.  We will not be in communication for the entire upcoming week while he walks on the wild side (in Africa that is).  I’d been giving him a daily weather report all week, and he said “I know it’s been brutal in Southeast Michigan, but it was 100 degrees today in Cape Town!”  I commiserated with him, since 100 degrees is not my cup of tea either, and far worse than the “Dog Days of Summer” so, perhaps I should just be labeled a weather malcontent.

[Image of robin by Open Clip Art from Pixabay]

This bitter cold weather sure has put everyone into a funk, barely a week past the joy of the holiday season.

I started to title this blog post “Baked Alaska” after I heard an interview on WWJ earlier today with a resident of Anchorage, Alaska who said they are enduring a heat spell there.  The temps were in the 30s and 40s, even up to a balmy 51 degrees!  Please note I used the phrase “enduring a heat spell” … the gentleman in the interview stated most Alaskans enjoy their very cold weather and were not fond of the warmer temps.  Hmm – well send that balmy weather here then, because when I ventured out to run the car this morning, it was four below zero and -17 wind chill.  Brrr!

I was sitting in the car in the driveway looking up and down the street at the houses covered in icicles, both the real deal and those pretty icicle lights.  I imagine most of the holiday décor is frozen to the ground or onto the houses right about now.

I try to be a glass-half-full person as much as possible, even if nowadays that glass of liquid is probably frozen solid.  I struggled to create a list of the plusses for this cold spell, and I couldn’t think of any, except the snow didn’t stick to the shovel yesterday.

I did have a few observations in the half-hour that I braved that brutal wind chill to trudge outside this morning.

Today was National Bird Day and in the still morning I heard some tiny tweets coming from my ornamental tree out front.  This tree is still cloaked in leaves and wearing a cap of snow over the top of it.  That snow settled down onto the branches and has not moved, frozen in place, courtesy of a glaze of rain following that Christmas Eve snowfall.  I think the bird was hiding in there as his tweets were faint and almost pitiful sounding.  I bent down to peer through the tree, but I didn’t see him, so he must have been nestled up high, under the snow.  I had nothing for him and I am sure that he, and his brethren, are missing the many feeders my neighbor Marge used to put out for them.  A few times I’ve seen the birds looking wistfully toward her deck and there is nothing for them there, even the heated birdbath they once enjoyed.

I wandered around the backyard a bit before coming back inside – after all, it took me a half hour to get suited up to step outside, and there were no errands, shoveling or walks on my agenda, so I occupied myself with a trip to the backyard.

Two houses away, I watched the Comcast guy, after dragging his extension ladder out of the truck, hooking it together, then climbing slowly up to the top of the pole.  He removed his heavy gloves and began to fiddle around with something.  The cold air was obviously uncomfortable as he kept blowing on his hands, hoping his warm breath would breathe life into his numb fingers.

I discovered a large dead tree limb had come crashing down on my lilac tree the other day, and I wanted to check it out.  I’m puzzled where that limb originated from.  Was it part of the tree itself or the tall trees in the house behind?  I can’t tell, but it has to be removed in the Spring before the tree comes to life once again … if it comes to life once again.  I felt badly seeing the broken branches and hope the damage is not severe, as it as it is part of a pair of lilac trees, with its counterpart like a bookend at the opposite end of the back garden.  These trees are over fifty years old.

I’ve decided that most people will be seeking comfort food this weekend, craving all those fattening goodies like baked macaroni and cheese with a crispy au gratin topping, or banana pudding, or even better … bread pudding.  Perhaps folks will be cooking up a big pot of chili for these beyond-chilly days.  Of course, we could overindulge and eat our way into a new size if we’re not careful, despite our New Year’s resolutions.

I, for one, can’t increase my girth because my landing is so small, that if I grow one inch sideways, I swear that I will not be able to navigate pulling off and on the boots, while balancing on one foot at a time, while trying to feel unencumbered in my bulky puffy coat.  In my next life, or next house – whichever comes first, I want a mud room.

Winter is really getting old already, but I’m buoyed by the chatter about a January thaw by mid-week.  Perhaps I can head down to Council Point Park, and get in a real walk, and maybe take the camera as well.

When I was walking all those miles in 2017, with the exception of the last two or three weeks, I felt like my feet had wings.  They were happy feet, once I slipped on those walking shoes, and, if I was dressed for the weather, I felt like I could just keep on going and going, like the Energizer Bunny.

I guess I knew those walking days at Council Point Park were winding down, because the bad weather was coming … after all, it is Michigan.  One day I was enjoying 50 degree temps on that beautiful Sunday, December 3^rd, and, just a handful of days later, I was outside in knee-high lug-sole boots, hefting the snow by huge shovelfuls and slipping and sliding on the ice that was layered beneath those frosty crystals.

It was a cruel slap in the face.

Mother Nature was relentless, then we got a brief respite (thankfully), only for the Christmas Eve snowstorm to hit, and we’ve been in the deep freeze with snow ever since.

Once that ice and snow began, my daily trek suddenly turned into a trudge of sorts, a journey that consisted of tramping endless laps in the snow-covered nearby parks or using a parking lot.

I told myself I’d take a break from walking this week as I had errands to run and the air temperatures and wind chills through Saturday were going to be especially brutal.  So, the past few days I have been running errands, or, what I would refer to as “traipsing around”, but, not in my walking shoes, nor the hiking boots that I so coveted (but have cast aside until they are broken in some more).  Nope, I am in my tall Khombu snow boots, often taking baby steps on the icy patches.

Yesterday, I was traipsing around Meijer, really racking up the steps, then back and forth to the car, and bopping around, all bundled up, and not really getting any enjoyment out of those steps at all.

At Meijer, the store was in cast-away-the-Christmas-décor-mode and has already filled its shelves with Valentine’s Day décor, clothing, candy, cards … the whole nine yards.  Yup, it seems a tad early, as we’ve barely wiped the eggnog from our lips and we are already thinking about Valentine’s Day.

For those not quite ready to embrace the Valentine’s Day mindset, the store shelves are catering to people who vowed to lose a few pounds and shape up in the new year, as evident by rows and rows of SlimFast products and exercise paraphernalia.

If your resolve was to clean up your act and get organized, or to get your paperwork in order for tax day, there were Rubbermaid tubs, manila file folders and income tax software to be had.

I sure wish the seasons would rush full speed ahead as quickly as the stores want us to.  I’d trade in this ice and snow and bitter cold for the April tax filing deadline in a heartbeat.

My first stop today was at the allergist’s office to get my shots.  Here I reluctantly shed my warm coat, and bared my bare arms for my two allergy shots.  I’ve learned in the Winter months to wear a tee-shirt covered by a warm cardigan with sleeves which I can push up above my elbows … that beats getting stripped down to a short-sleeved top in the cold “shot room” because the nurse invariably reaches into the fridge to get my serum, then grabs each of my arms with her icy cold hands to “stick me” with the needle.  Yikes!

My last stop, after traipsing through a couple of errands on this wickedly cold morning, was to the gas station.  The snow was swirling around, courtesy of a little snow squall that blew up as I drove along Fort Street.  On a lark, I purchased a couple of lottery tickets … the Powerball grand prize is $460 million and the Michigan Mega Millions grand prize is $418 million.  The odds of winning are abysmal, but it made me feel better about this ugly weather, as I handed over the three dollars.  I only buy tickets for these big prizes as I’d be happy to win four numbers, or five numbers – the rest is too much money to comprehend, even after the taxes are taken out.  Hey, I could still keep my job and work from home, but in a sunny and warm state, what few still exist.  This morning I heard that 48 of the 50 states were experiencing extreme cold spells, and the citrus growers are already biting their nails.  I’m glad I loaded up on extra Clementines at the grocery store yesterday

Those errands were drudgery, but, all the trudging or traipsing these past two days garnered almost three miles of steps, getting this year started on the right foot … er, boot.

There was one thing that warmed my heart on this bone-chilling day.  My boss is vacationing in South Africa and sent me photos from today’s excursion to Boulders Beach in Simons Town, near Cape Town.  Who knew that penguins, whose habitat would seem more conducive to Michigan weather, live happily with their brethren on this white sandy beach?

Until today, I had no idea a colony of penguins existed in Africa … I am confident their happy feet TREK, not tramp, nor traipse, nor trudge, along those white sandy beaches in the 85-degree weather.

Yup, you’d be happy too if your footprints were on a white sandy beach, instead of boot prints in the snow … just sayin’.

[Vector image of penguin by Open Clip Art Vector Images from Pixabay]

Welcome to 2018, a new year of promise and a clean slate.

Have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet?

Whatever your wishes, hopes and aspirations,  this day of new beginnings gives you the opportunity to start anew, and then see how long you can follow through with today’s declarations.

For last year, my 2017 New Year’s resolutions were admirable.  I wanted to get this house in order, from top to bottom, so there was a place for everything and everything in its place.  I wanted to say to myself “I need such and such” and then go retrieve it, without missing a beat.  Well, for the most part, I did follow through with those good intentions.  I did declutter the house somewhat during the first half of the year and removed at least 35 fully-loaded plastic garbage bags filled with stuff that hadn’t been used in decades.

As my long-time followers to this blog know, the second half of the year was not so great, nor as productive as the first half.

First, a whole-house insulation job left my basement and garage in a shambles and I spent every weekend for a month, cleaning cellulose particles and sticky foam that had landed here, there and everywhere.

Then, I had two back-to-back plumbing disasters, both upstairs and downstairs.

When the PVC pipes for my kitchen double sink were replaced due to a small leak, the seal did not hold and the whole contraption fell apart while I was running a sink full of water.

Next, the pipe underneath the fiberglass sink in the laundry room corroded and fell apart and water went everywhere.

If these events were not bad enough, my laundry room looked like a war zone after the plumbers used a jackhammer to rip apart the tile floor to clean out the main floor drain.

After restoring order to that room and painting the exposed cement floor, a few months later, I had my dryer vent cleaned out, and the repairman moved the washer and dryer to clean the vents.  Unfortunately, he left the AC condensate hose out of the laundry tub on a steamy hot day in September.  Thankfully, 24 hours later, my internet went out and I went downstairs to reboot the modem and I wandered into the laundry room while waiting for it to fully boot up.  Water had flooded a sizeable portion of the laundry room, resulting in a big mess and more clean-up.

After cleaning up that mess, and scrubbing and waxing the floor again, I put in a load of laundry and the washer started dancing across the floor.  I had to lay over the washing machine to steady it until the load was done, and, while bending over the washer, I saw water seeping out of the floor drain beneath the laundry tub.  The appliance repairman came back, adjusted the washing machine feet, and we tested the washer, which was deemed good to go on his part, but water began to seep out of the floor again while he was there – “not my fault” he said.

So, the plumber made a return visit and had to take a sledge hammer to the area under the laundry tub to put in a new drain, necessitating more mess in that room and I had to repaint both drain areas since the first paint job was trashed up.

I spent way too much time organizing, mopping up and painting in 2017 … I could hardly wait for the year to end.

This year, I’ll concentrate on personal growth instead, because it is much cheaper and way easier … in my opinion anyway.

To that end, I thought I’d step up my technology game a notch .

No, not another smartphone, because the last one was a debacle … it was not all user error either.  The AT&T salesman told me the phone was a dud and suggested a different model, but I went back to a flip phone.

My friend Evelyn and I often text back-and-forth for hours, her from her smartphone, me from the computer.  She lives in Richmond, Virginia and we both decided that we should learn to Skype this year instead of working our fingers down to bloody stubs.

Evelyn is also taking a photography class to learn more about her digital camera.  As for me, maybe I’ll learn to use the settings on the digital camera instead of shooting on automatic all the time, but, back in the 70s, I took some photography classes for my 35mm Canon camera, and shot all my travel photos on automatic, because it was easier and faster and less to fiddle with.  At Council Point Park, you have to be fast with the critters as they might hold a pose for a couple of seconds, then off they go, and, when you upload your photos, you’ve got nothing more than a flash of a furry tail, or just the wide webbed feet of a Canada goose, even though you thought you captured an image of a goose with its pink tongue hissing or a lot of wing-flapping going on.  Maybe I’ll work on honing my photography skills before those fuzzy goslings arrive on the scene, though I did okay with some of the shots I took of them last year.

Of course, there is the usual “I’ll take better care of myself in the new year” … well, I do eat smart, but I was going to get up and ride a few miles on the bike this morning to kick off the new year.  Unfortunately, the firecrackers going off in the neighborhood until 1:30 a.m. made me shut off the alarm and roll over a little longer than I should have.

I generally follow the credo of Ben Franklin, i.e. “Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”  Well, that principle works for women too, and … two out of three isn’t all bad, right?

I guess I’ll adapt Scarlett O’Hara’s attitude and begin anew tomorrow.

Here’s some inspiration to get you through this first day of 2018:

“And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” ~Meister Eckhart

P.S. – Remember that snazzy-looking Snow woman a few posts ago, on December 22^nd?  Well, I think this picture is of her main squeeze celebrating the new year.

[Image of snowman by Jill Wellington from Pixabay]

We’re just a few hours away from hearing the familiar strains of  “Auld Lang Syne” … then there’s a few hugs and kisses, a sip or two of champagne or eggnog, and we’re off and running to a brand-spanking new year.

Shortly before 12:00 a.m., our neighborhood will ring out with the sounds of fireworks that will continue into the wee hours of the night.  One family always takes pots and pans and promptly clangs them together at the stroke of midnight.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the “auld acquaintances” portion of  “Auld Lang Syne” lately.

As I mentioned in my Christmas Day post, I began digitizing all my old photo albums and they really are a treasure trove of memories.  The albums contain not only travel photos, but also a wealth of pictures of family members, friends, school chums … even neighbors throughout the years.  I’ve been poring over these old photos for weeks, both while scanning them into the computer, and then looking at the images later.  Sadly, many of these family members or acquaintances have passed away, or, I’ve not been in contact with these folks for decades.

The project has been a Herculean task to be honest, and, while immersing myself in all those memories, I have also looked at various old scrapbooks and yearbooks.  I had vowed to peruse those yearbooks after joining a group on Facebook which consisted only of Lincoln Park High School Class of ’73 grads.  I realized I didn’t recognize half of these folks by their pictures now.  Well, that is no big surprise since it soon will be 45 years since we graduated, plus we had a huge class – there were 613 of us.

I sorted through some keepsakes as well – programs from school plays and many mementoes from senior class activities.  I had a mimeographed sheet of paper which was dialogue for trying out for a part as a munchkin in the “Wizard of Oz” during our senior year.  I think I’ve been 5 feet 9 inches tall since I entered my teens, but there it was, pasted into the pages of the scrapbook, alongside a plethora of 3 X 5 inch photos of my friends and me, all of us fresh-faced and full of hope for the future.

So, time traveling is what I’ve been occupying myself  with lately, but now it is time to move ahead to the new year.

But first … not before I share my final stats with you.

A few weeks ago I noticed that my blog posts would soon number 1,050 entries since I began this blog in February of 2013.  I decided that I should also reach 1,050 miles on the very same day – December 31, 2017.

It’s been tough … the walking part, that is.  I think I’ve been given the gift of gab (for better or worse) and parlayed that into my many blog posts, however, given the cold, ice and snow the past few weeks, I really had to hustle to reach this final walking goal.  Lately, I’ve counted every step I’ve taken during my waking hours.

Today, I went on two walks.  Earlier in the day I meandered over to Memorial Park, walking in a big circle, and I picked up a few squirrel pals along the way.  I still had peanuts left over from my last trek to Council Point Park, so I made some new furry friends at this venue.  I came home briefly to warm up, then walked a few blocks over to Ford Park and did laps around that two-City-block Park until numb fingers and toes got the better of me and I called it quits.

I got home and warmed up some in the car (ahh, the heated seats), then unzipped my jacket to check the pedometer … still 1/3 of a mile more to go!  Hey, I’m a purist, so I wanted to do this goal fair and square, so I merely trotted around the backyard to get ‘er done at that point.

I will now rest on my laurels, and give myself a small break until this week of brutal cold passes, and perhaps climb onto the exercise bike instead.

I had an extra glass of eggnog to celebrate my good health and ability to get those 1,050 miles walked in 2017.  And, as good as I was feeling having walked all those miles, I got online later in the day and was catching up on the news, only to read about a man who trekked 6,000 miles across Europe, beginning that journey in April 2016.  He averaged about 25 miles a day.  This 26-year-old Traverse City man simply leaves me in the dust!  Here is the story if you’d like to read it:  https://www.clickondetroit.com/news/michigan/michigan-man-walks-6000mile-trail-across-europe_

That is truly a great feat for the feet, and, truthfully, whether I accomplish 1,000 plus miles next year, or the year after, 2017 has been a year for the record books for this 61-year-old gal.

Cheers to each of my readers, near and far, and …

… have a safe New Year’s Eve and all the best in 2018.   I am leaving you with this quote that I came across a few months ago and saved just for this occasion:

Finish every day and be done with it.  For manners and for wise living it is a vice to remember.  You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can.  Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it well and serenely, and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
 

[Images of eggnog by Jill Wellington from Pixabay]

The thermometer hasn’t budged much this week … my car odometer either.

But my walk-o-meter continues to push upward.  I think I might be getting greedy about grabbing all the miles I can this year, because it was simply not enough to be satisfied with beating last year’s record of 754 miles by one mile on October 9^th.  Suddenly, 900 miles was attainable, and then I pushed myself to 1,000 miles as my new goal that I aimed for, and I made it earlier this month.

After reaching that last milestone,  I was still twiddling my thumbs.  However, the clock was ticking as we began creeping toward year end.  There wasn’t much time to get more steps in, and, those steps were not taken in the best walking conditions after this incessant snow and underlying ice, not to mention being in the deep freeze.

Yesterday, meteorologist Paul Gross tweeted that this was the 6th snowiest December on record and the month was not over yet.  I am sure I am not alone in concurring with William Shakespeare’s phrase  “now is the winter of our discontent” even if the intention for these words is not the same.

I have been diligent about walking this past week, although snow interrupted my trek yesterday.  But, I must confess that since the year was winding down, I’ve taken to wearing my pedometer all day, as I run up and down the stairs doing laundry, or fetching things from the basement, as well as while I shovel or even go out to run the car.  That’s because all those steps add up.  Today, after shoveling even still more snow, I trekked over to Memorial Park to walk multiple laps and got my fresh air and steps in that way.  I’ve not been back to Council Point Park since Christmas Eve as I know the path will be packed with ice and snow.

Right now we are more apt to be on the inside looking out, even missing New Year’s Eve festivities to hunker down in the warm house.

I know we were spoiled by the past two mild Winters, and, knowing we are heading toward the Summer Solstice is a nice thought, but that is a long journey and provides little comfort at the present time.

Speaking of long journeys, my boss left for South Africa today.  He, too, has been grumbling about the snow and cold and has been in a bit of a funk because his 6:00 a.m. daily  and twice-weekly evening swimming sessions at the local high school were cancelled due to school Christmas vacation.  Every day I get a progress report on how many miles he swam that morning, to which I usually reply how many miles I walked that particular day.  I told him about a news story I heard on WWJ that South Africa is in a drought right now and many hotels have closed down their pools, are restricting guests to a two-minute shower and no baths may be taken since the hotels don’t provide a bathtub plug.  There is swimming in the ocean, but you must watch for sharks.   Now that’s a little scary – maybe even scarier that those wild animals he’ll no doubt see, just like the old “Daktari” TV show.  (I know I just lost a whole lot of my readers with that reference.)

One of my favorite go-to photographers for my blog posts is Jill Wellington, and she created all the photos featured in today’s blog.  Not only does Jill Wellington have beautiful images for all the four seasons, but she is also from Michigan.

[All images by Jill111 from Pixabay]

Well, if the snow and crusty ice was not bad enough, we’re in the deep freeze for the next two weeks, as we revisit the term “Polar Vortex”.  Brrr!

As I stepped out of the cozy house, shovel in hand and bundled up to the hilt, I glanced over at the dial on the big thermometer on my neighbor’s deck.  I couldn’t verify the temperature because the dial face was frosted up.

But, something else caught my eye that I’d not seen before – there were buds on the magnolia bush.  When did that happen?  Was it that one day, about a week ago, when we basked in the sun and enjoyed a balmy 50 degrees?  Well, no good will come to a bush or tree that starts budding out in this brutal cold.

While I was checking out the magnolia bush, a sparrow alighted on a branch.  I felt sorry for this little soul, as I stood there in multiple layers of clothing, and I was already feeling the fingers of cold infiltrating my mitts and numbing my lips, less than one minute after I stepped outside.

I’ve never understood how our little feathered friends don’t freeze to death on these bitter cold days.  The poor little guy was all on his own, with no brethren to huddle close to on a branch, or a wire, or even the top bar of the icy-cold chain-link fence.  No, he was all alone in the cold, cruel world.

When my neighbor Marge still had the pair of plum trees, I could go out on the coldest morning and the birds would be sitting side-by-side on a branch and singing their hearts out.  That little spot of joy emanating from the top of those trees warmed my heart so much.

My friend Ann Marie saw a robin yesterday.  I told Ann Marie her robin might have regretted hanging around here with all this snow and cold.  I wonder what that red-breasted bird is eating?  It’s a sure bet that worms aren’t on that robin’s menu … not a chance in this frozen and snowy tundra.

The poor birds … my heart goes out to them, but poor humans too, because the temperature only got to the teens today and wind chills will be down to minus fifteen degrees tonight.

I sure hope the snow and cold we’ve endured thus far in December does not set the tone for the balance of the Winter season.

[Image of sparrow by Suju from Pixabay]

… to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.

Mother Nature gets a lump of coal in the toe of her stocking … in my opinion anyway.  Once again there was a one-two punch bringing a lot of snow and bitter cold as well.

I was able to get six miles walked at Council Point Park on Christmas Eve, but this wicked Winter weather had me shoveling this morning, and just heading back to my old standby, Memorial Park, to walk a few miles there.

The fresh blanket of snow at that locale was beautiful, and it sure was inviting to make a snow angel, but I decided I had better pass up that idea as I was already cold from shoveling and trekking through all that white stuff.

Enough already with this snow and cold!

I embarked on a mission to digitize all my photo albums as part of my year of organizing and containing clutter in my life, which was my New Year’s resolution for 2017.  This project was necessitated by the fact that some of the albums had begun falling apart.  They were stored in cardboard boxes in the bottom of a seldom-used cupboard, so free from dust, or sunlight and seemingly in good shape … or so I thought.  However, I watched in horror as the fabric margins which contain the three-hole punches that fit into each album’s metal posts, just tore away and the pages were lying loose in the boxes.  Also, many of the plastic overlays on the pages had become yellow, or the photos had slipped around beneath the plastic film and were no longer attached to the sticky backing.  I knew the integrity of all the photos was in jeopardy, thus this project.  In fact, this picture sustained some damage with its mysterious-looking white blobs.

It has been fun to revisit all these albums and scrapbooks, including some vintage, sepia-toned photographs that belonged to my grandmother that are nearly a century old.

This is one of my favorite Christmas photos.  It was circa 1961 and I was five years old at the time.  I vividly recall my new turquoise velvet dress with the lace trim, though no color pictures of me wearing this dress exist.  I remember getting the xylophone from Santa and I am sure my ping, ping, ping on the tin keys with a pair of wooden mallets drove my parents crazy, but not too crazy, because they signed me up for accordion lessons when I was seven years old.  How many times can you play the scales or “Lady of Spain” before your parents are wringing their hands in despair or shoving their fingertips into their ears?

I guess if you can’t be a little drummer boy, the next best option is to be a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead … and she played a mean xylophone.

I hope all your Christmas memories are as fond as this one is to me.

‘Twas the day before Christmas and out in the street

Not a neighbor was stirring, they must all be beat.

The goody bags were packed with the utmost of care

In the hope the Park critters soon would be there.

The squirrels were nestled all snug in their nests

With visions of peanuts that soon they’d  be blessed.

And I, in my many layers and a warm woolen cap

Had just arrived at the Park for a long Winter lap.

As I set out on the path, I heard some songbird chatter

Then in an instant, all the Park critters around me did gather.

Because what to my wondering eyes should appear …

But a Park filled with critters dressed in holiday cheer.

I dragged out my camera and all their goodies in a flash

Because it appeared they were having a Christmastime bash.

As my Park pals joined me on the path in the new-fallen snow

I stifled a giggle, but exclaimed “Merry Christmas and ho, ho, ho!”

Look at the squirrel with a fluffy beard and cap like Kris Kringle

And when he ran over for peanuts, I know I heard a bell jingle.

I tossed peanuts to a squirrel with sparkly antlers and red mittens

And he caught each one in his paws – what a cute little dickens.

A pair of Canada geese, sporting Santa caps, looked so dapper

They made goo-goo eyes at each other while I roared with laughter.

A goose in the water asked “did you forget to invite me to this party?”

And for once, no wing-flapping or hissing – all the geese were so jolly.

The mallards were mingling at the cement landing among themselves

Their caps backward or sticking straight up, as mischievous as Santa’s elves.

A squirrel came bounding over to see me and began begging by my boot

He was decked out in Christmas cheer … who could resist a critter that cute?

And his friend was nearby, standing at attention, looking perky and merry

Wearing antlers, and glasses perched on a nose that looked like a cherry.

Then I gave Parker some extra peanuts just because I like him the best

I said “shhh – just tuck these extra nuts away and don’t tell the rest!”

I felt remiss since I’d donned no Christmas corsage, not even a sprig of holly

Nor a Santa cap or other holiday duds like the critters, to be truly part of this folly.

I fed the critters their tidbits and treats, so it was time to begin my journey again

And, as I walked away from them, I knew I was probably wearing a silly grin.

I continued on the path, waving to each walker I passed  along the way

And we exchanged Christmas greetings and wishes for a great holiday.

But, as I walked  back home I had a niggling feeling that something was amiss

Since no walkers commented on the Park critters  all dressed up for Christmas.

So, were the furry and feathered friends a magical treat meant just for MY eyes?

Well, if so, then my lips are sealed because I sure won’t spoil their surprise.

Today’s miles were filled with smiles and started my day off just right

So, may I now say happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!