WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I was at Meijer earlier this week, and as I passed the produce department, shoppers were milling around the display of  delicious-looking berries that were on sale.  Those strawberries, blueberries and raspberries sure looked delectable, all plump and brimming with that end-of-Summer goodness that fruits and veggies kissed by the sun, instead of grown in the hothouse, have.  People were scooping up those berry-filled plastic boxes, no doubt planning a mouth-watering dish as they loaded them in to their cart.

A new crop of wild raspberries has appeared on the tree at Council Point Park as well.  You might recall way back on June 16^th I wrote about the two women walkers who were enjoying these sweet berries right off the tree:  (https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/06/16/catch-as-catch-can/

The pair plucked those sweet nuggets and popped them into their mouths.  I figured what berries were beyond their reach, the birds helped themselves to the rest.  So, it’s raspberry pickin’ time at the Park once again.  I saw this sapling just loaded with raspberries and noticed they appear to be two different types – hmm, a hybrid raspberry tree with both red and black berries on one tree.

Summer’s goodness … sunny days and sweet and juicy raspberries there for the taking.

This squirrel was feasting on those raspberries, having used some fancy footwork to secure a good foothold to enable him to reach those succulent berries.

I got out my camera and the squirrel was so busy enjoying his treat, that he was oblivious to me.  He was using the claws from his front paws to pluck off the berries and shoot them right into his mouth.  Though I didn’t get a good view of my furry friend’s face, I imagined berry juice squirting around his mouth, so that he looked like a little girl who got into her mother’s lipstick and smeared it in an uneven slash across her mouth.  Well, I was guilty of doing this when I was a little girl.  My mom only used makeup for special occasions, and when I was young, I got into her makeup bag in an effort to “look like Mommy” … that was a mistake because I got pancake makeup and lipstick all over the bathroom vanity and myself.  Oops!  And, I ended up getting a lickin’ for it too, but what little girl didn’t want to pretend she was all grown up?

The weather was just perfect this morning, so refreshing and it put some pep in my step, getting me five more miles under my belt toward my 2017 total tally.

With all the anticipation over the upcoming solar eclipse, I figured today was the perfect day to showcase sunflowers.

The status of these blooms above, just like my walking mileage, is “gettin’ there”.

As to me, I reached mile number 555 today, meaning just 200 more miles will get me my 2017 goal; so, yes … I’m “gettin’ there”.  I pushed myself hard today, and was weary after a six-mile journey, which included a walk to and from Council Point Park and five loops done there.  Whew!

These sunflowers pictured above are likewise “gettin’ there”; they are not at their peak yet, as their seeds are still forming and the “pan” of black seeds is not yet ripe for feasting.  Once the sunflower “faces”  are chockfull of ripe oilers, those black shiny seeds that our favorite backyard birds such as cardinals, jays and chickadees delight in, this garden will be the primo backyard on the block for wild birds.  The squirrels love them as well.

Back in 2010, I decided to try my hand at sunflowers in the backyard garden.  I was already catering to the birds with feeders, seed blocks and birdbaths, plus indulged the butterflies with coneflowers, sand watering stations and butterfly houses that the monarchs and swallowtails coveted.  The thought of luring more jays and cardinals to my yard made me happy, so I perused the sunflower seed packets and got the easiest to grow varieties.

I filled three large pots with “Holiday Sunflower” seeds for the back porch.  They grow to four feet and are bushy.  I also bought seeds for “Russian Mammoth Sunflowers” in which a single plant was guaranteed to grow 15 feet.  I spread those seeds in the garden and crossed my fingers for both.

The seeds in the pots took off and by early August I had goldfinches galore honing in on those tender seeds, and both they, and the flowers were a colorful addition to the back porch.  As you see below, the goldfinches would hang upside to reach the seeds, so they must’ve tasted like candy to them.

But, as to the sown seeds, well – it took forever to see any sprouts, then suddenly there were tiny seedlings.  I was ecstatic!  There were a half-dozen one day, and only one seedling the next day.  Grrr.  Those bunnies may be cute as a button, but they gobbled up those tender sunflower seedlings, just like they polished off all my Bleeding Hearts earlier in the Summer.

But, I was bound and determined to save the one Russian Mammoth Sunflower seedling that they missed.

So, I put an old jam jar over that remaining seedling to create a hothouse effect, and to thwart the bunnies.  Soon, it needed a big applesauce jar, then there were no jars big enough and that sunflower needed a stake, as it was growing about an inch a day.  It reminded me of the children’s tale “Jack and the Beanstalk”.

The potted sunflowers did reach about four feet high and produced pretty blooms, but lacked the big huge seed pan that you usually find by late Summer in most sunflowers.  But, the Russian Mammoth lived up to its name, and soon was towering as high as the garage of my neighbor behind.

I continued to monitor the daily progress of this plant, and its huge flower, especially the middle part that was brimming full of darkening black oiler seeds. And bees.  Boy, how the bees sure loved all those sunflowers, especially that not-quite-ripe seedy goodness.

I imagined a feast by the backyard birds and photo ops galore at the Russian Mammoth Sunflower.  But, one morning I went into the backyard to find the stalk crumpled in two, and the flower head on the ground, apparently a victim of that wealth of black oiler seeds.  Evidently, it had become top heavy and toppled over and a squirrel was sitting beside it, gorging himself on the contents.  That was the first and last time for sunflowers for this gardener.  But I do love looking at sunflowers, whether they are in a painting by Van Gogh, in a bouquet at the farmers market, or standing tall in the garden like these are.

I heard the solar eclipse tomorrow will cause the birds to stop singing and they will prepare to roost for the night, and other critters will similarly see the sudden darkness and become quiet, if not confused.

So, I guess the eclipse will likewise confound the lowly sunflower because those flowers always turn their “faces” toward the sun.

What will it do?  Where will it turn in that brief moment of darkness?  Will it droop downward?

Speaking of the sun, are you noticing how late it is rising these days?  Even if I didn’t see those first rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds, I know the angle of the sun is different when I am walking down the street these days, because the tree shadows are different.

Fall is a little over a month away and I find myself asking “where the heck did Summer go?”

Painter Vincent Van Gogh not only had an affinity for the moon and stars, but the sun as well.  I will leave you with this quote:

“The sun itself cannot make the world bright without souls to feel its light.”

Well, my boss has been vacationing in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula all this week.  I could have told you the weather would’ve been ugly at least a couple of the days, and sure enough it was.  Crummy weather always happens whenever Robb is out of the office and I have extra time for myself.

Tuesday morning I kept peering out the door as the weather folks said “rain by 9:00 a.m.” thus prompting me to think “should I stay or should I go?” …  you know me, I am such a weather worrier, but, not wanting to miss out on any miles, nor my morning walk, I threw caution to the wind, put on my raincoat, grabbed an umbrella and off I went.  My journey was short indeed, since I reached the end of the driveway and the first sprinkles started.  I hightailed it back inside the house like I was made of sugar, and soon a steady drizzle ensued.

I did get in a walk on Wednesday.

But Thursday, there were those pesky raindrops again, however, I had not suited up to go and was still in my jammies when that torrential rain began.  It never let up for at least an hour, giving our gardens and lawns a great soaking, but unfortunately, another walking day went down the drain for me.

Today Mother Nature cooperated, and I knew a trip to Council Point Park was in order.

I was happy for the stiff breeze and lack of humidity since I was loaded down with my usual “gear”, i.e. camera, phone, keys, pepper gel, plus peanuts in a mesh bag swinging from a clip on my fanny pack.  In my right hand I gripped a Meijer bag, which sagged with the weight of its contents … it was filled with painted rocks.

This morning I was not only at the Park for pleasure and to bulk up my miles, but I was also on a mission.  My dear friend Marge Aubin, who passed away on Monday, followed the “Downriver Rocks!” Facebook site, as do I, and she was totally immersed in this craze.  She had been painting rocks for weeks, and, at the beginning of August had sent me a message to ask if I could pick up her finished rocks sometime, then hide them at Council Point Park.  She added a postscript to that message:  “I’m no Picasso!”  That gave me a laugh, as I’m not either, though I dabbled in pastels and charcoals a wee bit back in my teens.  I promised to retrieve those decorated rocks and visit with her as well, but sadly that never happened, so her granddaughter, Monique, brought those creative gems to me so that I could complete her wish.

I began that mission  with 34 rocks, some painted with positive sayings like “Peace”, “Love” or “Smile” and others, which were festooned with bright colors and dots, swirls, googly eyes or glitter.

My goal was to be secretive, since I chat with so many of the walkers, that I didn’t want them to see me placing the rocks around the Park.  So, I went very early and made the rounds, trying not to draw attention to myself.  These blog post photos were not taken today, but during some of my many visits to Council Point Park.

My first stop was at the water fountain, which hasn’t worked in ages, so a dark blue stone with curlicues was placed near the spigot.

I hustled over to the pavilion area and set a pair of pretty, pale-blue polka-dotted rocks on a picnic table.

Next, I set one or two rocks on each of the many blue metal benches that I am always writing about, (hoping that my favorite squirrel didn’t think it was a nugget to chomp on, or hide away for the Winter).

The playground equipment was not in use, so I stole over to that area and was generous with my “droppings” to make the children happy.

I continued on my journey, passing the inline skating rink.

I left a large flat stone emblazoned with the word “Peace” at this rink which is dedicated to a fellow school chum, David Ward, Lincoln Park High School Class of ‘73, who was a fireman here in the City, and died of cancer in 1999.

More rocks were dispensed in dribs and drabs, in some of the nooks and crannies that are off the beaten path – no use in making it too easy for everyone to find them all in one morning, right?

By the second time around the entire walking path, I noticed some rocks were missing, and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw other walkers eyeing those objects strewn along the side of the trail as they neared them, then bending over and picking them up.

The early a.m. Park visit, and, the fact that I kept mum on who was dropping the rocks, allowed me to pull off that secret mission, with no one any the wiser, except perhaps that green heron who was sunning itself on the cement precipice and eyeing me warily.  This must be its regular roosting site now.  That green heron suddenly took flight because I startled it, after carefully climbing down the steep grassy slope so I could set that 34^th and final rock, with the cheerful message “Smile” on the cement landing near the Ecorse Creek.

Mission accomplished:  four miles walked and many rocks hidden for Marge, often my own rock, throughout the years.

Today my heart is heavy and my cheeks are damp from tears rolling down from my eyes, because I lost a friend and good neighbor that I have had the pleasure of knowing for twenty-five years.

If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you have seen the name “Marge Aubin” peppered throughout my blog posts during the past 4 ½ years.  Marge fought a tough battle with COPD; that long struggle has ended and she passed away peacefully early this morning.

Marge and my mom and I shared many special moments through the years – there were good times and bad.  We supported one another’s families through losses, and there have been many.   After I lost my mom in 2010, Marge told me I should consider her family as my family, and they have all treated me as such.

It was Marge who was at the hospital E.R. with me when I was told my mom would likely not survive the night … she gripped my hand very tightly and spoke to me in her cool, calm manner.  She was with me as we went to make the final arrangements for my mom as well.

There were other loved ones I lost and Marge was there to console me, like after my beloved bird Sugar suddenly died the same year as my mom passed away.  My heart was broken.  Likewise when she took me to the vet to have Buddy euthanized, because I did not trust myself to drive there.  All those were sad times for me, but there are a wealth of happy memories as well.  Marge and I shared a love of nature and there were treks to Elizabeth Park and frequent trips to Bishop Park to watch the freighters go by and just talk.

Marge enjoyed going to the riverfront, and especially loved to watch the sun rise as she sipped coffee down at Bishop Park in Wyandotte.  For many years, she headed out the door and down to the riverfront in the still of night.  There she would sit, coffee cup in one hand, digital camera in the other, and she would capture images like this one above.

If not for Marge, I would never have started this blog.  One day she forwarded a blog post written by a woman who described the beautiful fields of heather in Scotland.  Then she asked me “why don’t you write a blog like this – talk about nature and what you see when you’re walking?”

And so this blog began on February 11, 2013.

I have twenty-two people who subscribe to this WordPress blog, and from this group, two people have regularly commented on my daily posts – Marge, and my fellow walking pal, Ann Marie Stevens.

Now I have lost that constant commentary from Marge on the finished blog posts, plus, I often solicited her opinion when I gave her a sneak preview of that day’s blog post photos which I’d upload to Shutterfly and send along to ask which was her favorite of the bunch.

Like me, Marge had a profound appreciation of nature, and loved the squirrels and birds in her backyard, and, she especially delighted in those hummingbirds that frequented the many hummer feeders around the outside of her home.  Sadly, in the past few years, Marge was relegated to the inside looking out, so she was content to enjoy those hummingbirds at her front window where she could view them from her easy chair, or, on her back deck where she watched them from the kitchen while having breakfast.  How often my heart ached for her, as she had been a very outgoing person until just a few years ago when COPD ravaged her lungs and left her on an oxygen machine 100% of the time.  But, still she ventured out, when she was able, to take short trips to Bishop Park or Elizabeth Park.  She vicariously enjoyed my recent posts to those venues, and told me she wished she had been there with me.

I found out about her passing from her son Jeff shortly before I left on my walk this morning.  He was outside getting some fresh air, making and taking phone calls and gave me the sad news, and I told him I’d connect with him after I returned from my walk, and I did.  I know on that walk that I absorbed nothing, but merely moved forward, taking steps like an automaton … one foot ahead of the other.  I got those three loops walked and then headed back home, five miles done, but there was no joy in my journey.  Were the birds even singing, the squirrels chattering or clambering down a tree to greet me?  All I remember is seeing the asphalt perimeter path through eyes clouded by tears.

My initial numbness over learning of Marge’s passing has now been replaced with grief, as I realize that my sounding board, a woman with whom I shared confidences and dreams, not to mention gripes, is no longer there for me.  I sound a little selfish in saying that I suppose.  There will be no more passing cute animal stories or beautiful bird pictures along to her to make her smile and ooh and ahh over.

Sadly, Marge did not live long enough to see today’s sunrise from her hospital window, nor her beloved Bishop Park, as she passed away at 5:05 a.m. in Wyandotte Hospital, just a stone’s throw away from her favorite go-to spot.  So, I will post this one last sunrise photo for her and hopefully she is looking down on me and saying “thanks for doing that for me Linda” … rest in peace my good friend Marjorie Jean Aubin.

“So dawn goes down to day.  Nothing gold can stay.”  ~ Robert Frost

I often do my best thinking while walking, especially on a Sunday morning when there are less people pounding the pavement at my favorite nature nook.

My musings this morning occurred as I passed the wildflowers and weeds that are in full bloom now throughout the Park.  I decided that, were it not for the allergy shots I’ve gotten for decades, walking in Council Point Park would not be half as pleasurable, even on a picture-perfect, weather-perfect day like we had today.

For years, August was a month of horrors … red and watery eyes, a running nose, and my throat felt so itchy that I used to down large spoonfuls of Grape Nuts cereal, as those little nuggets seemed to sooth that itchy throat and make it feel better.

One of my customers who had regularly eaten at the diner where I worked weekends and Summers while attending college, would see me standing waiting for the bus on Fort Street to go downtown to WSU, then after graduation, to work.  He would often stop and pick me up.  Harry Matelski lived on Grosse Ile and was a VP at Winkelman’s woman’s apparel store, and his office was at their headquarters on Woodward Avenue.  He preferred taking Fort Street to jumping on the expressway.  What a treat to have “the big ride” in his Cadillac, as opposed to the cramped suburban bus, which, in those days, often smelled of diesel fumes, had no A/C, and half the time the windows didn’t work and were stuck in an all-the-way-open, or all-the-way-shut position.  Before Harry, after my morning commute, I’d arrive at school or work a sniffling and sneezing mess.

Of course, I would whine incessantly about those Summertime allergies and how miserable late Summer was, but, as my parents would remind me … it didn’t stop me from going to Pine Knob where my friends and I regularly had lawn seats.

My grandmother had the same hayfever symptoms come August and would similarly sneeze her head off … her sneezes came in rapid succession.  She often lamely joked that with her already-existing heart problems, a series of successive sneezes might prove fatal to her one day.

I finally started seeing an allergist and took shots in each arm (a/k/a as allergen immunotherapy) for twenty years.  Then my allergist retired and he said I could stop the shots, as I’d not had symptoms for years.  But, those sneezes and sniffles returned nearly ten years later, this time as early Spring allergies, not late Summer allergies like I had before.  Go figure.

The allergy shots regimen round #2 is successful, and, I’m happy to say that not a single sneeze has occurred at Council Point Park –  not in early Spring when the grass is lush and green, nor now, when the Park is full of weeds, like this Queen Anne’s Lace pictured above.

Every time I see Queen Anne’s Lace, I travel back in time to recall picking some and presenting it to my mom one time.  “Flowers from the meadow” I said and handed them to her.  She accepted that bundle of dainty weeds, which I had paired with other “wildflower” weeds, but, then, after thanking me, she gently told me that the pretty purple-blue chicory, bright-yellow buttercups and dainty Queen Anne’s Lace were not really flowers, but weeds.  Well, that was a letdown to me, but at least Mom was diplomatic about her “gift” wasn’t she?

Queen Anne’s Lace is really no slouch when it comes to weeds though … it does deserve some recognition besides the moniker of “weed”.  After all, it is a butterfly magnet, especially for swallowtails, like the butterfly I featured in a recent blogpost, plus, it was named after England’s Queen Anne, who was reportedly an expert lace maker.

Queen Anne’s Lace always reminds me of the decorative doilies under the colonial-style lamps in the living room.  These two doilies are relics and have some sentimental value.  They were tatted by my great grandmother.  She took up that hobby when she had to forsake a good deal of her farmhouse chores, after she was saddling up the buggy horse to go to church and Mabel was suddenly spooked by something, reared up, then came down with one hoof on the top of my grandmother’s foot.  She was laid up a long time, then never walked properly after that incident.  Besides baking, she filled her days with quilting, embroidering and tatting.

Today’s weather was perfect and I got another five miles added to my walking tally for 2017.  I originally intended to head to Heritage Park in Taylor since it was such a refreshing and glorious day, but, the Little League World Series is being held there today through next Sunday and I thought it might be too crowded.

So, off I headed to my favorite go-to place … Heritage Park can wait for another time.

I hit the ground running this morning as it was my first weekend without any big chores to keep me hunkered inside the house.  Besides, who knows if every weekend will be perfect weather-wise going forward … so, you seize the moment, right?

As I was lacing up my walking shoes, I decided today’s destination would be Elizabeth Park in Trenton.  I had not been there in a few years and that was with my friend Marge, on a cold and blustery day in November.  We had hoped to get some nice pictures of the Fall colors, but instead, we looked out the car windows rather wistfully at the colorful leaves whipping themselves into a frenzy as they raced across the grass.  So much for our Fall foliage photos.

Once I arrived at Elizabeth Park, I wasn’t real sure of my bearings, so I parked near the dining hall Chateau on the River, so I could find my way back to the car when I was done walking.  Unlike Council Point Park, which is basically two asphalt loops which resemble a lopsided-looking figure eight, Elizabeth Park has a looped vehicular drive which encircles the entire Park.  On one side it is woodsy looking, and on the opposite side, you get a great view of the water and the marina.

So, I walked along the skinny sidewalk that is designated for pedestrians and bicyclists.  I figured I’d walk four or five miles and explore a little as I went along.

Shortly into my excursion, I saw a set of rickety-looking concrete steps and went down them as there was a footbridge just across the grassy expanse and I wanted to cross it.

I climbed up the footbridge, lightly holding onto the black wrought-iron railing with its ornate design and curlicues at the base, and looked up and down the waterway.  I saw a pair of kayakers in the distance.  I watched them and they were so in tune with one another, as they rhythmically dipped each side of the oar into the water to propel themselves forward.

I took some pictures of them as they got closer to me, and just before they disappeared under the bridge where I was standing, one of them looked up and called out to me “so which magazine cover will we be appearing on?”  I smiled and told them I was a walker, not a kayaker, and they would be featured in in my walking blog that day, amongst whatever other sights, people and/or critters that I came across.  They laughed good naturedly and told me to have a great day and soon they exited from under the bridge.  I watched them until they were nearly out of sight.

Then, I carefully climbed back down those shallow footbridge steps and headed over to introduce myself to a woman who was using a long-handled metal detector.  I’d seen her in the distance from the bridge, and, at first, I thought she was weed whipping near the base of the steps, until I got closer and realized she was using a gizmo to search for metal in the grass.  I asked her if she had uncovered any treasures today, and she told me “all I have found was three cents so far” and we spoke about several instances in the Downriver area in recent weeks, where people had lost cherished possessions at concert venues in big parks.  One was a memorial necklace with a pendant containing a baby’s cremains and the other was a wedding ring.  The necklace was found and the owner located, and that was a trending topic in the Downriver crime sites and this human interest story similarly made the local newspaper.  The woman told me she had searched for the missing ring on her own to no avail.  We chatted it up, I took her photo, then I climbed up the stairs and back onto the pathway on the vehicular road once again.

I roamed around, weaving in and out of the wooded areas, feeding a few squirrels and admiring a gaggle of geese who decided they were too pooped to participate in grazing this morning and were just taking it easy.  Perhaps they were casualties of those lazy, hazy, crazy days of Summer that Nat King Cole crooned about.

Actually, there were dozens of geese, unlike at Council Point Park, where I’ve just seen them overhead of late, and not in the grassy areas near the perimeter path like earlier in the year.

I was going to check out the ponies in the livery stable, but it was deserted until later in the day according to the sign.

There were unique-looking exercise stations along the way, and some of those stations had equipment that looked a little strange, but each came with a description of what the equipment did, just in case you weren’t sure (like this one below).

I meandered along the trails in the wooded area, thoroughly enjoying myself, then headed over to the marina.  Just like at Bishop Park, it was great to stroll along the waterfront and see all the people enjoying themselves on this fine Summer day.

Before I knew it I was back at my starting point, and, when I checked the pedometer, I knew I needed to bulk up my miles some more, so I did a second go-around the entire circular driving loop.  The speed limit is only 15 mph, but you have to watch for cars and maintenance vehicles.

While walking, I was thinking about the first time I visited Elizabeth Park.  It was the year we moved to the States – 1966.  My parents made it a destination for a “Sunday drive” … that got me thinking whether people still go on a “Sunday drive” anymore?  Probably not, after you battle the traffic jams all week long, and, for us Downriver folks, just travelling on Southbound Fort Street these days is like rolling along a major highway due to the River Rouge Bridge Project.  But, we’d often go to Elizabeth Park, stopping first at the outskirts of that venue to buy root beer floats or soft-serve ice-cream cones.

I wondered if I went on the pony rides or if I was too old for them by that time?

Life becomes a blur sometimes when you look back a half-century ago (groan).

My boss was out this morning since he had to drive back from Cleveland in the wee hours of Thursday.   He had attended a gala event last evening, the christening/renaming of one of our client’s freighters.  Renaming a Great Lakes freighter is a big deal and a joyous occasion, so the company gathered friends, family and colleagues to celebrate the renaming of the freighter to honor the founding father of VanEnkenvort Tug & Barge.

I knew Robb would be arriving at the office later today, thus affording me some extra time to dawdle a bit at Council Point Park if I wanted to, or, perhaps to go on a different excursion than my usual morning journey.

So, I scurried out the door very early to head to the River … the riverfront at Bishop Point Park to be exact.  I decided if Robb was going to be checking out the big ships, I too, should go to the pier and catch a glimpse of the Christopher Columbus replica ships, the “Nina” and “Pinta”, that are docked at Bishop Park through Sunday evening.  I had already read about the two ships at http://thenina.com/

I decided to get there early to avoid any crowds and so I could take some photos of them.  The riverfront was quiet and peaceful with the two ships clearly visible in the background.

I managed to get a silhouette effect of the largest ship, the “Nina”, in this shot.

Just as I suspected, more people arrived and they began to linger throughout Bishop Park, cameras or phones in hand, to capture images of these two ships.  The “Nina” is billed as “the most historically accurate replica of a Columbus ship ever built” and the “Pinta”, a smaller ship, is equally impressive.

A pleasure boat drifted by, causing gentle waves that lapped against the dark wooden hulls of both ships, causing them to move ever so slightly.  As you can see, there was a fence around the sidewalk near where the ships were docked, to keep visitors from accessing them until the museum/tour was open.  I was disappointed there were no sails rigged but I thought it was still a picturesque scene nonetheless.

As I moved in for a closer shot of the “Nina”, there was not a single crew member to be found, but there was some hustle and bustle going on inside the ship; perhaps breakfast was being served or Captain Stephen was commandeering the crew to do their ship chores before company was expected later.  I tried to peer inside, but it appeared dark.  The living quarters for the crew are located way below deck since the rest of the space is essentially a floating museum and where the tours are conducted.

So, I took these photos, mostly after strolling along the riverfront looking for the best angle to beat the sun’s rays and capture the glory of these replica ships.  I turned around for one final shot …

… and then it was time to explore a bit, pounding the paved sidewalk which runs along the riverfront.  There I dodged a few walkers, joggers, dogs and their owners, plus moms pushing baby strollers.  Then, I walked along the pier from end to end, where I passed a half-dozen fishermen, their lines cast and hoping for the best.

I was not the only one this morning with my ducks in a row as you see below.  This entire group of ducks suddenly swam out from beneath the pier where I was standing, quacking their heads off.

If you closed your eyes, and only heard the screech of the seagulls, who were either lined up along the riverfront railings, or constantly dive-bombing nearby, you would swear that you were at the seashore.

I walked along the riverfront twice, and each time I saw this one seagull who was more stationary than the rest of his brethren, so I figured I’d get a photo of him sitting on the railing.  Soon, I found myself chatting with a couple of walkers who pointed out that this sedentary seagull was standing on one foot because the other foot was injured by a fish hook and line that was hanging from it.

I told them that I would contact the DNR when I got online today, which I did via e-mail, and hopefully they have a local veterinarian who could help this poor seagull in peril.

To boost my steps some more, after leaving the riverfront area and Bishop Park, I checked out all the shops on both sides of Biddle Avenue.

The excursion was a change of pace from the usual stomping grounds at my favorite nature nook and this outing gave me a chance to see a little bit of history and understand better Christopher Columbus’ ships and crew that we youngsters learned about, and chanted about, in that childhood rhyme all those years ago …  “in fourteen hundred ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.”

I think ol’ Mother Nature has hoodwinked us into thinking it is still Summer when it is really Fall.

I know I stepped outside yesterday and immediately decided that I needed another layer to warm me up.   I ran into the house and grabbed my hoodie, which I later shrugged out of, then looped it around my waist by the time I had reached the second walking loop.  Today was more temperate, but still refreshing.

Down at the Park, the sun was already a massive bright-yellow orb in the sky when I saw him, this little Golden Boy, with plumage that mimicked that bright-yellow sun.

But … he didn’t see me.

I decided that this encore sighting of the beautiful goldfinch would not be marred by any sudden movements on my part, so I stopped in my tracks, and stood absolutely still, slowly drawing the camera ever so slightly out of the pouch and guiding it up to my face.  He was still preoccupied with enjoying his treat.  Success!

This little fella was immersed in a tall patch of weeds or flowers, so I shot a few pictures of him from far away, as I was inching slowly toward him with the speed of a worm.  The easily recognizable black-and-yellow markings on his feathers sure stood out in the pale background.  I continued approaching him, and still he didn’t budge, instead pushing his beak down lower into the flower.

I took at least a dozen pictures, then he shifted his grip on a stalk and was then behind the tall stems, so I stopped watching him through the camera, and instead watched him intensely with my eyes.  He so reminded me of my beloved bird Buddy, that I momentarily felt awash in memories as I watched Golden Boy’s actions, between the swift and jerky tail movements, to how he secured himself on the stem to better reach those seeds.  Buddy used to stomp down onto his toasted bagel piece with one tiny foot to be in a better position to devour it, just as soon as I moved my hand away, signaling it was cool enough for him to eat.

It’s been eight months since I lost my little pet and I truly felt sad watching this vibrant yellow bird.

But … in short order, I had to smile when this goldfinch struck a somewhat defiant pose as if to say “what do you want – I’m eating here!”   Just like Buddy would have done, that little rascal.

Well, I hovered around this area and got all the pictures I could and Golden Boy made no move to fly away, which was pretty incredible, as birds are usually skittish, even when they have some food that makes them reluctant to part with it once they see a human coming near them.

I tucked the camera back into the pouch, zipped it shut and hurried on my way to finish up three complete loops, plus my walk to and from Council Point Park, which added another five miles to my tally for 2017.

A wee birdie and a whole lotta memories on a bright and sunny day.

I left the house earlier than usual this morning, while anticipating another refreshing walk.  I decided to tack on those extra steps in order to pass the 500-mile mark, so I’ve now walked 501 miles in 2017.

Just like the past two days, the air felt Fallish and very comfortable for walking.  The cooler temps made we realize that Labor Day, the unofficial end to Summer, is now less than a month away.  Soon all the delightful pumpkin-spiced treats will be available and people will be queuing up to buy apple cider and donuts.

Another sign of Fall is that the apples are already ripening on trees around the Park.  I’ve also seen them strewn along the perimeter path for a few weeks now.  Though they are not full-sized apples, they look to be the McIntosh variety, dappled in colors of red and green, crispy-looking and with white flesh.  No doubt some of the apples landed on the ground from the high wind, or the many squirrels as they clamber up and down and around those trees.

But, it wasn’t until I saw my favorite squirrel sitting on the blue Park bench, happily munching on one of those very apples, that it dawned on me that this was why no squirrels were running to greet me as usual on the perimeter path.  It appears they have another source of food, besides me, and the other good-hearted souls who routinely carry around a bag of peanuts in the shell to dole out to the Park’s peanut pals.

To see that squirrel munching and crunching away on that apple tells me it fills his stomach much more than a half-dozen or so peanuts … or, even a small bag of m&m’s.  And, he probably gets a little meat as well, as the close-up photo reveals those apples are wormy.

That’s fine my furry little friend, but come Fall, you’d better come hither to get peanuts to hide for the long and cold Winter ahead when your favorite benefactor does not make her way down to Council Point Park.

So, how about dem apples?

… a fond farewell to Mickey and Minnie.

The Canada Geese are back after an absence of nearly two months!  This morning I saw about a dozen of them flying overhead in the traditional V-formation, and decided they might be headed south, given the last few days of cooler-than-normal morning temps.  Honestly, I had missed their cantankerous hissing, honking and my need to duck down and protect my head when a flock of geese flew overhead.  The nature nook was not the same without them.  So, evidently their flying feathers have grown back and the geese have returned as well.

Yesterday’s session in the garage stretched from mid-morning to late afternoon, and, by the time I was done, I had rounded up three bags of garbage, mostly that papery cellulose that was piled up in corners, behind shelves, or even embedded in the lawn equipment.  Unbelievably, strands of gray cellulose even dotted my “reserve” silk flowers I have on hand (just in case the existing ones should blow away during a stiff wind, even though they are weighted down in their respective pots and baskets).

In cleaning the garage, I decided it was also a time to bid farewell to two old faithful garden friends “Mickey” and “Minnie” which, as you see above, are a pair of life-sized Canada Geese who have graced the backyard since the 90s.  The past few years they have, however, been relegated to the garage for no particular reason.  I vividly recall the time we brought them home.  One day my mom and I were walking around Johnny’s Nursery, our favorite go-to spot for landscaping and annuals, when this pair of Canada Geese just called out our names.  We bought them on the spot, and, on the way home, on a lark, decided to name them.  They are so realistic looking, and their markings so resemble that of real Canada Geese, that through the years, whenever new neighbors moved in, they did a double take (until they realized the geese pretty much held the same pose, and they soon figured out they were not the real deal).

The picture above was taken by my neighbor Marge, when she got her first digital camera in 2006, and she surprised me by e-mailing me a series of pictures of my garden later that same day.   Here is another shot of the geese from the same day:

Sadly, the backyard, which included a big butterfly garden as well, and, to me, was like paradise back in 2010 when it was really exquisite, lost most of its pizzazz after Polar Vortex #1 came through, dealing a punch and knocking down three butterfly bushes and some rose bushes and evergreens.  Then, the following year, Polar Vortex #2 wiped out most of my perennials.  I had been proud of my black-eyed susans, coneflowers and daisies which had lined each side of the yard since the mid-80s.  I decided it was “paradise lost” and I was fed up and vowed then to never put that much effort into a garden or yard again.  The walking regimen I began in the Fall of 2011 also contributed a lot to that mindset.  Now, I use silk flowers instead of annuals and have reduced the rose garden and enjoy it and the perennials that made it … I’ve not replenished anything.   This past Spring, I was dismayed to find my longstanding  Nellie Moser clematis, which I had trained to climb a tall pole, did not make it.  So, still another touch of color in early Spring is gone forever.

I walked four miles again today.  I wanted to work in the yard and had to take the car out of the garage anyway, so I got two laps of the entire park in … four miles in just under an hour, then hurried home to hustle out for weeding and trimming the bushes and rapidly filling up yard waste bags.  Why does everything look so wild in just a few weeks’ time?

Now I am done with fiddling around with the house and can enjoy the remainder of the Summer.  There are still some odds and ends to do inside and start shopping and gathering pantry items for the Winter, but I am happy to be done with this humongous effort to get the house in order once again.