WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

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]

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]