WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, those were the conditions as I set out on my walk this morning.  It sure wasn’t too inviting, but rain wasn’t present, nor was it in the forecast, so off I went.  Besides, who wants to complain about our weather when you hear what is going on elsewhere in the world.  Between the hurricanes and the earthquake, I guess we can endure a little sogginess and fogginess in our lives.

The sidewalks were wet as I wended my way to Council Point Park, and I don’t know if that was from the rain yesterday, or the extreme dew.  The grass was sopping wet.  Each tree seemed saturated with moisture and shed droplets from their leaves when I walked underneath.  Occasionally, a big fat splat dropped onto my arm.  The humidity brought out the mosquitoes as well, and they were all abuzz, looking for a warm body to land on – miraculously I remained unscathed by any bug bites.

I wanted to make myself visible in this misty morn.  A few years ago, after finishing up negotiations for a new contract with a local union, my boss and I were presented with some union swag – not just pocket protectors and pens, or a few buttons, but tee-shirts emblazoned with their union logo on them.  So, on this very misty morning, I wore my Cement Masons Local #514 neon-yellow tee-shirt, and, when paired with black pants, I must have looked like a giant highlighter.  That’s okay because that way, the drivers can see me walking down the street in the mist, plus my shirt lights up like a beacon for the Park squirrels to find me.  After all, those furry critters should be mindful it is almost Autumn and they should be gathering peanuts to tuck away for the long Winter ahead.

The Park in the mist holds a little mystique, because, even if you detest spiders as much as I do, you can’t help but admire their intricate handiwork which was accentuated by the dew drops.   I marveled at those webs, as long as some hidden strands didn’t drop down out of nowhere and plaster their stickiness across my face.

In low-lying places throughout the Park, the geese seemed to be walking on dry ice as a fine mist was swirling around at ground level.  It was eerie indeed.

The leaves are really beginning to litter the walking path, especially those pesky locust trees with their fine yellow leaves scattered about.  And leaves are dotting  the surface of the Ecorse Creek, right next to the pond lilies which still have the occasional blooms.

It may have been buggy, muggy, soggy and foggy, but it wasn’t froggy.  I’m still waiting to find a frog sitting on a lily pad.  Perhaps the Ecorse Creek frogs are finding serenity practicing yoga, as is suggested in this garden stepping stone.

I’ve dusted off my semi-regular “Tuesday Musings” post, as it has been a while since it appeared in this blog.  I’m writing today about my dusty treasures and trinkets, discovered as I ravaged through the basement on my cleaning blitz earlier this Summer.

How do you define treasures and trinkets?  They are those small keepsakes that you have held onto through the years, conflicted on whether to part with them, knowing you’ll feel guilty for simply tossing out an item that at one time held meaning, or gave you pleasure.

I hear the horror stories about people faced with the wicked forces of nature, such as wildfires or hurricanes, who must flee their homes without their most-treasured possessions.  I don’t know how they do it … a lifetime of memories gone in a heartbeat.

This box in the basement filled with trinkets and treasures held no real sentimental value, but instead were keepsakes from other eras in my life.

Over the weekend I finished perusing the last of those items I had stuffed into a large box during my initial clean-up phase in the basement.

As many of you longtime followers of this blog know, my New Year’s resolution for 2017 was to restore order to my house this year.  It was a worthwhile, but tiring endeavor, dealing with upstairs, then downstairs, the latter which was neglected and unloved for many years, and had become a catchall for items which made upstairs look messy, so they were relegated to the basement.  That messiness in the basement was pushed over the edge on June 9^th when an all-house insulation job and messy contractors left the basement in a shambles.  I could bore you with before and after pictures, but suffice it to say, it was a nightmare.

But, I got myself a shop vac and wore out two broom heads from sweeping with a vengeance, so I no longer have to cringe and make apologies when I take the Flame Furnace tech downstairs for his semi-annual furnace and A/C checks.

That clean-up in the basement took the entire month of July, and I was frazzled by that job and did not want to spend another minute down there, but, I had gathered some items together in a box to give them a “once-over” before deciding whether to toss them or not.

So, I’ve finally made my way through that cardboard box that contained a mishmash of memories and disposed of them accordingly, saving only one item, just like a new year where you exclaim “out with the old, in with the new!”  There was a little angst involved, in what mementoes to keep.  Some gave me cause to pause, and others I said to myself “Linda … really??!!”

Well, many of those trinkets were related to trips taken through the years.

In the early 60s, my father had a job interview in California, so we made a family trip there and visited tourist spots geared for kids like Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm and Marineland of the Pacific.  I still had a pink folding comb with an emblem of Bubbles the Whale, the star of the show.  I wonder why I kept it all these years … surely  not for any sentimental value?   If I want to remember that day at Marineland, I need only look at this photo of myself wrinkling my nose after feeding a smelly old fish to an exuberant seal.

I traveled to Germany with my father in 1969 and saved all the cardboard coasters featuring the various German beers from the many biergartens we visited in Germany and Bavaria.  At each biergarten, a “sweating” mug of beer for adults, or non-alcoholic apfelwein (cider) for kids was plopped onto a colorful coaster when it arrived at your table.  As a 13-year old, I thought that was pretty “neat” and brought home a stack of those coasters which were still rubber-banded together, yellowed  at the edges and never used.   This image from Pinterest shows you those coasters in their heyday.

In the Summer of 1974 I traveled to Spain with friends of our family.  We went to a show featuring flamenco dancers and I bought a pair of castanets the next day in a marketplace in town.  So, did I buy them because I was inspired by the folk dancers who clacked them noisily while performing their moves, or did I plan on doing some flamenco dancing when I returned from vacation?  I also found a small black furry bull, which was no doubt a souvenir from the one and only bullfight I attended.  Not my thing, but I was staying with friends, so I went.  I bought some Toledo jewelry as well.  The ring was black with gold flowers but it was dressy and not too practical for everyday wear as a student, and working at the diner on the weekends.

Fast forward to 1981 when I took a week-long American Express land tour of Greece followed by a week-long cruise of the Greek islands, with stops in Cairo, Ephesus (Turkey) and Jerusalem.  I simply had to buy a necklace with my name spelled out in hieroglyphics … like the Toledo jewelry, it didn’t fit in with my work wardrobe, and was a tad touristy-looking once I got back into the daily grind.  Likewise, living in the moment, I just loved the music which you heard in every little Greek village, or every night while on the cruise ship.  Most of the people in our tour group purchased 8-track tapes of that Bouzouki music, and when I returned home from the trip, for months I over-played that tape; it drove my parents crazy.  I still had the tape, but no 8-track player.  Most of the women bought traditional Greek garb, patterned cotton caftans and long dangling wire and beaded earrings to wear aboard the ship at night.  I guess I thought I’d wear these items once I returned home, but nope – they have been folded up and tucked away for decades, only to be thrown away all these years later.

In 1983 I had a three-week excursion with Maupintour through four Scandinavian countries and Russia.  In my mementoes, I found an envelope filled with Russian rubles because our tour guide said “take some of this colorful paper currency home to show your friends and family.”  Plus, a mandatory purchase for everyone who visits Russia is a Matryoshka doll, which you probably know as “Russian nesting dolls” – yup, I had a set of them too.

Maupintour sponsored a photography contest where you could enter the photos you thought best typified your tour.  You had to submit the 8 ½ X 11 matted photos with a description on the back and they were returned to you when the contest was over.  I was interested in photography way back then and had the 35mm camera, special lenses, tripod … the whole nine yards.  I even took photography classes at a local camera shop.  So, after lugging all that heavy camera equipment around for three weeks, I was excited to enter a few of my favorite photos from the trip for the chance at a prize and to see the picture(s) used in future travel brochures.

This was a land tour of Norway, Denmark and Sweden and Finland, then we took a short Baltic Sea cruise to cross from Helsinki to St. Petersburg.  We later travelled by plane from St. Petersburg to Moscow.

As to the photo contest, I was just ecstatic when my photo of an ordinary dairy cow in a Swedish pasture, which I entitled “Tranquility” won first prize!  Well, holy cow!  That was a first for me.

I also won an honorable mention, even though the photo of me was taken by a fellow passenger, but it was recognized as representative of our tour.

This picture was aboard the cruise ship that crossed the Baltic sea from Finland to Russia.

There were other doodads and souvenirs of trips long ago, among them a straw handmade wallet from St. Thomas and a leather coin purse from a bazaar in Colombia, South America.  I should have kept my money I paid for those items, because no money was ever placed into them when I returned home.

Digging further into that box of treasures and trinkets was another photo of some significance.  In 2010, I submitted this picture to “The News-Herald” of a Red Admiral butterfly alighting on one of the cone flowers in my backyard garden.   Our local paper used to have a weekly feature that spotlighted nature photos taken by local amateur photographers.  I scanned it in as best I could, but I have clung onto that newspaper feature page as well.

There was a paper trail of tickets and programs from concerts and events attended through the years, the most-interesting event being the King Tut exhibit, “The Treasures of Tutankhamen” at the Art Gallery of Ontario.

We were visiting my grandmother for her birthday that weekend and my aunt got the advance tickets and went with me … you might recall that back in 1979, you had to physically go buy the tickets in advance for any big show – how different it is now with online sales.

I found the spiral notebook I created when I redid the landscaping from scratch in 1985.  Each page had a hangtag from that tree, flowering shrub or perennial, plus notes on its care which I received from Johnny’s Nursery.  Most of those trees, shrubs and flowers are now gone, as is Johnny’s Nursery.

I discovered a yellowed, folded-up complete Section A of “The Detroit News” commemorating man’s first steps on the moon on July 20, 1969.  I recall my mom read the story, then handed it to me saying “read this and then put it in a safe place as it might be worth something one day.”  So, what does a 13-year old know about saving such important things, except to put them in a box out of sight, and out of mind for all these years.  I now have put that newspaper story into the top drawer of my old cherry wood desk that was relegated to the basement after my status as “student” was officially over.  There’s plenty of room in that old desk now that I cleared out at least three pocket dictionaries, a thesaurus, and a very large Merriam-Webster dictionary, no doubt from my college days.  Who looks things up in the dictionary anymore?  You check at dictionary.com in case you’re not sure after spell-check gives it a whirl.  I remember my parents subscribed to “National Geographic Magazine” for decades, and when they ran out of places to put the old issues, decided to donate them to the local library who refused them since no one every requested that magazine to read or even for term papers.  (Remember term papers before Google?)

I guess I am a “saver” and not a “thrower” … my mom did not hoard memories to become dust catchers or to take up space in the house.  Come to think of it, I never saw my first tooth, a lock of hair or bronzed baby shoes around the house.  And I was an only child!  Hmm.

Rummaging through those treasures and trinkets was a fond look back at my past.  Upstairs, there are many photo albums and scrapbooks reposing in the bottom of a seldom-used closet.  In those pages, mementos and memories have more permanent homes, carefully pasted-in pictures and small items with precisely lettered titles that are still intact on their pages decades later.

I lingered long over that collection of memories and finally let them go into the trash.  But, those mementoes, those tangible items that one time gave me such pleasure are not forgotten because the memories pertaining to them are forever engrained within my soul.

And the one item I saved?  The front-page of the moon landing because it might make me a rich woman one day.

In my recent blog post entitled “Glimpses”, I mentioned the sighting of a raccoon at Council Point Park on my morning walk.  Although I’ve not spotted him (or her) since that day, I won’t give up looking yet.  That post about the raccoon sighting piqued my friend Ann Marie’s interest, and she responded to that post by commenting that she wished she could be walking at Council Point Park and seeing the sights I wrote about.  I replied to her that we should reconnect some time before the snow flies.

This morning we got together to walk around Council Point Park.  Since Ann Marie moved to Southgate in the Spring of 2015, we’ve kept in touch by e-mail mostly, as our walks are now taken in different venues rather than around the perimeter path that we both have so enjoyed.

Ann Marie and I first met in September of 2014 when I had stopped in my tracks, right in the middle of the walking path at Council Point Park.  I had my camera trained on a big fat caterpillar that was slowly inching its way across the asphalt path.  This was no ordinary caterpillar – it was a Woolly Bear caterpillar to be exact, and I was trying to capture its image, especially the black bands on either end of its fuzzy body.

In January of that same year (2014), we added some new terminology to our vocabulary.  “Polar Vortex” was a new description that we tossed around casually after we endured that record-breaking cold spell.  According  to folklore and “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” did you know that studying the appearance of this rust-and-black-colored caterpillar will give you an indication of the weather for the upcoming Winter season?  The Woolly Bear caterpillar has 13 rust-colored segments of its body, representing  13 weeks of the Winter Season, so … legend has it that the longer the black endcaps of this caterpillar are, the more severe the Winter.   Yes, it’s folklore, and it’s fun, just like the Groundhog’s prediction every February 2^nd.  I don’t remember how that caterpillar looked and the picture, just like that Woolly Bear was fuzzy, but I do know the Winter of 2014-2015 was a brutally cold and excessively snowy season.

You can read about the folklore attached to this Woolly Bear Caterpillar at this link from the National Weather Service:   https://www.weather.gov/arx/woollybear

So, on that September day in 2014, the two of us bent down close to study that caterpillar.  It was easier for Ann Marie, because she is at least a foot shorter than I am.   After the Woolly Bear’s photo was taken, and I told Ann Marie about the meteorological aspect of this bristly critter, we continued along on our walk companionably.  So, a friendship began and we walked together whenever we happened to land on the walking trail at the same time.

Today we did the reconnect and walked along together once again, our mouths going a mile a minute.  We didn’t see that elusive raccoon, but we filled our morning with chatter, a four-mile walk in the Park and a mutual enjoyment of Mother Nature’s offerings that was ours for the taking on this beautiful September morn.

Since we didn’t spot a raccoon to feature with this blog post, I’ve included an image from my artist friend Maggie Rust which she calls “Twins” – so, how about these two peas in a pod?

I’ll leave you with this thought:  “A friend is a gift you give yourself.” ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

My boss was out of the office today, so I decided to expand my horizons and return to Heritage Park, rather than my regular stomping grounds.

I figured this second visit would involve more walking, and less exploring and picture-taking, since I really immersed myself in the whole experience the last time.  There was just so much to see, but today my head was not swiveling back and forth like the last time, so I could just enjoy the journey instead.

So, on this gorgeous morning, it was easy-peasy getting five miles walked.

I kept the camera in the case most of the time, deciding to rely on some of the photos I took the last trip and didn’t use for that day’s blogpost, but … there was a beautiful hawk soaring high above the Park today and I couldn’t resist taking its picture.

On the prior visit, I spent much time admiring and taking photos of the covered bridge.  It was the first time I’d seen one, and I’ve had a fascination with covered bridges since reading the novel “The Bridges of Madison County” and later seeing the film by the same name.

And, if this idyllic scene above with a couple snuggling on the covered bridge and ducks wandering around nearby doesn’t seem peaceful enough, how about this fisherman sitting there aiming to get his catch-of-the-day, despite the fact that the Park’s rules and regs make you throw that fish right back into Coan Lake?

It was perfect weather for today’s excursion.  My next trip to Heritage Park will be to view the Fall colors, so I’m guessing that visit is another month away perhaps?

According to the weatherman, the dregs of Hurricane Irma should have hampered this morning’s walk, so I was pleasantly surprised to see no rain, just huge dark clouds overhead.  They were rather ominous looking, so I grabbed the umbrella before heading out.  After weeks of chilly weather, warmer temps have clawed their way back and it was muggy as well, so I shucked my jacket and looped it around my waist before I was halfway to the Park.

On my mind this morning was reaching 655 miles, leaving me just 100 miles to reach my 2017 goal – all miles thereafter are just gravy, as the expression goes.

By the time I got to Council Point Park, less than one mile away, I was surprised to see the sky was not dark at all at that venue.  In fact, the sky was a beautiful blue, marred only by a single contrail in an otherwise flawless sky.  By the time I finished the first loop, that contrail was a pale image in the sky, soon to be replaced by the largest contingent of Canada Geese I’ve ever seen.  They flew in perfect V-formation and the oddest thing was, had I not been looking up at the sky, I would not have known they were there.  Usually, their incessant honking heralds their arrival, but this flock of geese was so synchronized and soundless, I was in awe of them, and it really was a beautiful scene to behold.

Now, I must set my sights on reaching the final goal and I don’t think it will be that difficult.  The long-range weather forecast has been accurate thus far – a very dry September with cooler temps.  October is supposed to be rainy, but once we get into October, the sun is not around as many hours, so it becomes more difficult to get longer walks accomplished in the morning, or even after work, so those mile-making treks are relegated to the weekend only.

But, I am confident I’ll get ‘er done – now, onward and upward, with stats that are soaring like that plane headed into the wild blue yonder.

It was early morning and still pitch dark outside.  I was at the kitchen counter top divvying up several large cellophane bags of roasted peanuts in the shell and placing them into Ziploc bags.  After separating those peanuts, I always store the individual Ziploc bags in an old cookie jar, so I can just grab a bag as I’m headed out the door for my daily walk.

I had been listening to the news while doing this task, with an ear tuned to the weather forecast, since the weatherman had predicted rain in the very early a.m. and it hadn’t happened yet.  I was about to click off the radio and get dressed to leave, when there was a “tease” for an upcoming story about some squirrels acting very squirrelly in New Orleans, so I waited to see what mischief had transpired.  I figured they chewed on some electrical wires as squirrels are fond of doing.

Well the story was about neighborhood squirrels in a Lake Vista neighborhood in New Orleans.  In that beautiful, tree-lined neighborhood, the squirrels have become so aggressive they have attacked four residents in the neighborhood since Sunday.  The gentleman who was the subject of the news story, told the reporter, that an errant squirrel dropped down out of a tree and landed on his back, so he quickly grabbed the squirrel and threw it to the ground.  The squirrel didn’t like that much, so he showed the man who was boss, by turning on him, biting him in the ankle.  The gentleman is now undergoing a series of painful rabies shots.  One of the squirrels even gained access to someone’s house. Yikes!

I am always mindful that any of the critters I encounter along the way are wild animals.  Those squirrels may be endearing when they come running over to me for their daily ration of peanuts as I’m walking the perimeter path, so that is why I ensure I always carry their favorite treat with me.  Otherwise, I’ll get a parade of squirrels following me around the walking trail until they just shrug their shoulders and give up for the day.  But, what if they got really ticked off one day as I had no treat for them – what would happen?  While it is cute when they start stepping on my shoes to climb up for the Ziploc bag that I hook onto my fanny pack, I try to discourage it on a routine basis, just because you never know when they will go squirrelly on you.

Most of my squirrel interactions are on the ground along the perimeter path, but, as you know from some of the photos I’ve used in this blog, occasionally my furry friends are on a bench or scrambling down a tree.  I am always a few feet away from them when I take pictures.  However, recently when I was at Council Point Park, I was walking under a tree and heard some rustling above my head.  It was too loud to be a bird, and I looked up to find this squirrel looking down at me.

Now, you may think all squirrels look alike, and, for the most part they do.  Sometimes they have some identifiable marks on them … a patch of discolored fur, or they’re missing part of a tail, or some other characteristic.  This fellow was not one of the regular Park squirrels because it had pronounced dark markings around its face, particularly its mouth, which gave it a rather menacing look.  This squirrel took an aggressive pose and glared at me, for no apparent reason.

I had the camera out and took a few shots of him, as he and I were giving each other the once over, then I went on my way, leaving him looking at me as if to say “forgive me for asking, but where do you think you’re going?”

Later, when I uploaded the pictures, I took a good long look at this squirrel with the odd demeanor, and vowed to stay clear of him in the future.  I’d like to think it was just one squirrel with a big attitude, hopefully not one that was sick or rabid, but it is better to be safe than sorry.

Well, Mother Nature’s critters are not the only thing that may wreak havoc on my walking regimen sometimes.  I set out for my walk, and, though the pavement was still speckled by raindrops which happened since the last time I peered out the front door, I saw no raindrops on my hands or jacket, so off I went on my walk.  I got to the pavilion area which is the entrance to Council Point Park and it started misting lightly.  I dragged out the umbrella and turned on my heel and left for home.  Hmm, sometimes it’s better to just hunker down in the house and stay put.

That nearly two-mile round trip to the Park got my total to just shy of 655 miles walked in 2017, which would have left me a measly 100 more miles to reach my final goal.  Thwarted by the rain today, I will try again tomorrow, unless Mother Nature puts a damper on my morning walk again.

Walking back from the Park today, it was sunny and bright, nothing like last Monday when suddenly a rogue rainfall caught me off guard.  Yes, me … the always-prepared and former Brownie got soaking wet.  There was none of that ugly weather this morning and it was a tad warmer as well.

Today, after visiting two different parks over the weekend, it was back to my favorite nature nook, a woodsy place plunked in the middle of the City, which draws me like a magnet nearly every day.  It is somewhere where I know every twist or turn along the way and every nuance in the asphalt walking trail.  I wonder just how many steps I’ve walked on the perimeter path since my first visit to Council Point Park on April 26, 2013?  I enjoy interacting with the crowd, or the squirrels, and, though the geese may hiss and flap their wings at me sometimes, at least they don’t bolt like that gaggle of geese at Elizabeth Park yesterday.  I told those fractious waterfowl that I was a Canuck, so just like “one of them” and they still took off.

Yup, Council Point Park is a venue that I’m comfortable with … like an old shoe – not too big, not too small, and, it’s a place where I am able to have a carefree walk, with my mind a blank canvas to take it all in.  Just like we were comfortable and carefree 16 years ago today, when our lives suddenly turned upside down.  Like you, I have always paused to remember that fateful morning which changed every one of our lives forever, even though most of us were not at any of the sites of such heartbreak and devastation, but instead were glued to our TV sets or radio as the horrible images of September 11, 2001 unfolded, leaving us sad and weary.  Today, the media recapped some of the poignant human interest stories, sandwiched in between the images of the aftermath of Hurricane Irma.  Sad days on so many levels.

I’ll leave you with this quote:

Life is fragile.  We’re not guaranteed a tomorrow, so give it everything you’ve got. ~ Tim Cook, CEO of Apple

This morning I indulged in a guilty pleasure.

There I was, at Elizabeth Park, walking along the boardwalk and admiring the shoreline, while Floridians were enduring the initial wrath of Hurricane Irma on their own shoreline, an event which is certainly no walk in the park for them.

They have my sympathy for their loss of homes and precious possessions, and for some, maybe even injury or loss of life.

I cannot imagine a storm surge so powerful that it would devastate a whole town in a heartbeat.  As I walked along the boardwalk, the occasional power boat would whiz by and the waves would leap up and wash over the large rocks, then the water shimmied back and forth until long after that boat was just a speck on the horizon.

I visited Elizabeth Park today, nearly one month after my last trek there on August 12^th.  On that Saturday, I walked the perimeter of the entire Park, exploring the little pathways and checking out the marina area.  I recall I couldn’t get too close to the marina because the catering services for Chateau on the River, a popular place for wedding receptions or other large gatherings, was making a delivery, or for some reason the area was cordoned off.

When I returned home that day and uploaded my photos to Shutterfly, I forwarded some of my favorite shots of the trek to my friend Marge.  I knew she would enjoy them, as over the years she made frequent forays to Elizabeth Park for photo-taking or just to relax and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere there.  She also used to live close to the entrance of the Park, near the root beer stand, a fact I didn’t learn until after she left what would be her last comment on one of my blog posts shortly after I published it.

So, after forwarding those favorite pictures to Marge, she commented to me on each of them, wistfully adding that she wished she could have accompanied me on my trek to Trenton and Elizabeth Park.  Then she added “but didn’t you take any pictures of the boardwalk Linda?”  The boardwalk.  Hmmm.  I never saw a boardwalk, and told her so.  She said “well you have to go back and walk the boardwalk at the riverfront and take in the scenery from that vantage point.”

I realized I must have missed something special, so I vowed to make that trip soon.  Thus, Take 2 was today.

While Marge and I visited Elizabeth Park several times through the years, it was always a drive-through event, and, on August 12^th I went by myself.  I circled the Park to see where I’d park and exactly where I would be walking.  On foot, I travelled on a skinny path designated for walkers, as the road is reserved for cars and geese.  I explored several bridges, roamed through several hidey holes and immersed myself in a few wooded areas.

So, this morning, once I arrived at that vast Park, I walked that same circular drive, but with an eye to finding an access point to the boardwalk.  Well, I discovered a set of stone steps I had overlooked last month, and, once I descended those stairs, I found myself in a quiet and secluded area full of ducks.  There were ducks everywhere, including several pure white quackers.

We don’t have white ducks at Council Point Park, so I had to take a few shots of them, that pair nibbling on the grass and another duck, who was fresh from a bath in the icy-cold water and stepped out of the water amid a flurry of wing flapping.  I waited until he was done with his version of “toweling off” and got him to pose for me.

A sweet little white duckling was waddling about, totally oblivious to the rest of the ducks.  He was a bundle of energy, and a man was standing there watching it with the same delight as I.  He remarked that “it must have been a late hatch for that little guy to be so small – hope he makes it in this chilly weather.”

There were many mallards in this secluded area, lined up near the water like soldiers.  Most were still sleeping, one leg planted firmly on the ground, and their head tucked under one wing, while others contently sat along the banks of the water.

The mallards that weren’t sleeping or sitting were floating along lazily or preening themselves, like these two in this little inlet.

This was a rather idyllic scene, and I hated to leave, but I was bound and determined to find that elusive boardwalk.  I passed a few picturesque scenes of unique-looking trees enroute to the big bridge.

and …

Then, around the corner from this beautiful tree seemingly kissing the water, was the bridge.

Many local photographers come here to capture an image of the bridge, no matter the season, and Elizabeth Park has a photography contest each season for the best representative pictures of Elizabeth Park, which is clearly the jewel of Trenton.

After crossing the bridge, I found some gardens, then a sidewalk that led to the riverfront.  Running parallel to the riverfront was a seemingly endless cement sidewalk, which I walked and eventually it became the boardwalk, which stretched all the way to Chateau on the River and the marina.

I walked the boardwalk twice, then retraced my steps getting back to the main road so I could then travel the path that encircles the entire Park.

That path gave me a chance to glance at two jays that were screeching at one another, and a gaggle of geese, which clearly were turned off by my very presence.  Were they just camera shy?  Believe me, I did not say a word to them, yet they hightailed it as fast as their webbed feet could take them.

It was a pleasurable morning, though a bit chilly – 46 degrees when I left the house, but who is going to complain about a wee nip in the air?  Our weather was picture-perfect, something Florida residents would give their eyeteeth to have right now.

Elizabeth Park – Take 2 was just as pleasurable as Take 1 … the peaceful atmosphere was just right for Sunday strolling.

With the upcoming observance of one of the saddest days in our nation, I decided to head to Young Patriot’s Park in Riverview.  I’ve passed it many times, but never pulled in, nor walked the Park’s perimeter path.

So, I decided today would be the day.

Young Patriot’s Park isn’t the nature nook that Council Point Park or Heritage Park are, but instead it is both picturesque and patriotic and a change of pace from my usual stomping grounds.  You’d think that the beautiful fountain in the middle of a manmade lake might invite geese and ducks galore, but I only saw one female mallard preening herself contentedly at the water’s edge.

The patriotic portion of the Park was very nice, from the Fallen Soldier statue honoring brave service personnel who lost their lives in various conflicts, to the path of memorial bricks.

Even the MIAs and POWs are honored at Young Patriot’s Park.

To get my five miles walked, I completed that circular path many times, in fact, so many that I lost count, but I think it was a dozen times.  Just a few walkers dotted the pathway, including those walking their pooches.  The City’s administrative offices and first responders are located nearby.

I have to admit that after the initial trip around, I was a little bored and the other walkers seemed lost in thought ,or had not had their coffee yet, so none were in the mood for any chatter, even a “good morning” or “hey”.  No critter interaction made for a quiet and efficient trip this morning, and I was thankful that Mother Nature neither rained on my parade, nor had me shivering along the pathway while getting those many miles logged in.

A Fall preview is in play these days, with glimpses of Fall colors which have begun to appear along the perimeter path at Council Point Park.

Less than a week ago, we flipped our calendar page to September.  That coolish weather we’ve experienced so much over the past few weeks seems to be causing more and more crumpled leaves to litter the asphalt walking path, and, at the Park, what leaves are left are mostly green, though some of the trees, and even the larger weeds, are already sporting their Fall jewel-toned hues with leaves tinged with red or yellow.

It is not just the pretty leaves which add a touch of color at the Park.  The wild chokecherries have finally ripened and that tree, which was kind of blah all Summer, is now laden with bright-red fruit.

Even the goldenrod has reached its peak and those tall weeds actually look bright and cheery along the trail.

Yes, Fall seems to have settled right in, much earlier than we wanted it to, or the calendar date says it is so.  After a week of piling on more and more layers, I went back to gloves again this morning, since, when I stepped outside, it was only 50 degrees.  I think this Fall-like weather is here to stay.

The weather is always a topic of conversation at the Park and this morning was no exception.  Hoodies were pulled over heads and hands were pulled up beyond the cuffs of sleeves.  “Good mornings!” were exchanged between walkers through lips that were numb.

I kept my jacket zipped up to stay warm.  I was carrying the bag of peanuts in my jacket pocket and fumbling to put back on my gloves, having just fed a squirrel, when suddenly I saw a long and furry ringed tail disappearing into a bush.  That quick glimpse told me there was no mistaking that tail belonged to a raccoon.

I shook my head “no” as if to dispel that thought, but I stopped and kept my eyes trained on the bush for another “sighting” anyway, and, sure enough, within a few minutes a little furry face with its black “mask” suddenly popped out from between the leaves of the bush where it had scurried as I approached.  It peered at me, then disappeared into the dense bushes near the water.

So, I was NOT wrong the first time – it WAS a raccoon.  It wasn’t very big and he (or she) never came out of hiding, so I finally moved on.  It was just as well, as the camera was in its case and buried under my jacket, so it was not easily accessible.  I’ll look again tomorrow for this little guy and see if he or she is available for a photo opportunity.

When I first began walking at Council Point Park, I arrived there one morning to find the walkers all aflutter because the animal control officer had just left with a big raccoon in tow.  I was sorry that I had not arrived there just a few minutes earlier to see that cute little critter.

One of my favorite books when I was a youngster was “Rascal” by Sterling North  After I read it (and re-read it several times), I remembering begging my parents to let me have a raccoon for a pet.  Of course, living in the city made that impossible, but I could dream it about at least.  Years after the book’s release, I saw the movie “Rascal” and, though I was older by then and no longer coveted a raccoon for a pet, I still got a kick out of Rascal’s antics and his cute mask-like face.

I’ve never seen a raccoon in “real life” though.  That is, until this morning.

Just like that raccoon, I did some scurrying of my own at the Park.  “Brisk” and “breezy” were the best descriptions of the weather.  My round trip to Council Point Park and three loops walked yielded another five miles to my tally.