WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, I was bound and determined to get a walk in this morning. All this commotion, between the house, errands, plus the hot, humid and rainy weather, has left me scrambling with an agenda that is a little catch-as-catch-can.  It has been making me quite cranky.

I planned on walking yesterday – that is, until the alarm rang, and, before I could plant my feet onto the floor, a few raindrops sputtered on the patio roof, and soon a torrential rain was teeming onto that metal awning right behind my head.   It didn’t clear up until late morning.

You never hear the expression “catch-as-catch-can” anymore, though I recall my parents using it all the time. I guess the modern variation of this phrase would be “making hay while the sun shines”, “gettin’ ‘er done” or maybe “it’ll happen if the moon and stars are aligned just right” … no doubt there are other sayings as well.

It has been a long week and I was eager to get back to Council Point Park.

At first blush, the slight breeze felt kind of nice, as it was a tad hot and humid, but, by the time I got to the second and less-shady loop, I was wishing I had worn lighter clothes. I saw no squirrels and I had a plastic bag tied onto my fanny pack loaded with peanuts.  The loaded bag kept thumping against my thigh with each step that I took, so, I could have had a much lighter load had I known there would be no squirrels visiting me on the path today.

The geese were also conspicuously absent, so I wondered if the DNR had sprayed the grass with goose repellent.  Lest you think that last sentence was a joke, I was told a few years ago, that once the goslings are able to fly, the grass is cut and sprayed with a non-toxic, but bad-tasting substance to urge the geese to graze elsewhere, like behind the soccer field and baseball diamonds.  This keeps them from getting onto the trail and bothering the visitors who want to walk, run or ride their bicycles on the perimeter path.

On the last loop, I was enjoying some much-desired shade from a group of trees and bushes, when suddenly I came upon two women. One was pushing a stroller.  I usually see the pair on the trail walking, without the child in tow, so I was ready to say “good morning” when I noticed they were getting up close and personal with a sapling.  Sensing a possible photo op of a bird’s nest with baby birds, I quickly stepped over closer to them and said “what has caught your attention here?”  I got ready to  take the camera out of the pouch.  Both ladies smiled, their lips stained bright purple, and they pointed to their hands (likewise stained purple) where they had been holding the plump, ripe berries.  “Wild black raspberries” one of them said, in between bites.  Hmmm.  I never knew that berries grew on trees, so that was news to me.  The sapling was weighed down by many long and twiggy-looking branches, all which were laden with black berries.  It was tucked between two larger trees, so perhaps this was why the birds had not yet discovered this treat,  because they would have glommed onto them for sure.  These fellow walkers told me they have been getting berries here for years.  One lady confessed “I don’t know how to make a pie so I eat them like this” as she popped a few more in her month as if they were M&Ms, right after plucking them from the tree.  I also confessed that I was no pie maker and agreed that simple is the best option sometimes.

Well, since I was a woman on the move this morning, and making up for lost miles, I said “enjoy” and resumed my walk. I kept an eye to the sky which was starting to get about as black as those berries.

The encounter with the ladies and the berries made me think of my childhood friend Maureen. Suddenly, I knew there was a Friday flashback of berry good memories churning around in my brain, just begging to become today’s blog post.

Maureen and I lived in the same block and became friends after our family moved to the States in 1966. Her folks set up a new swimming pool that year in their backyard, right after school let out for the Summer.  It was a metal pool, about three feet tall and generously sized to accommodate both of us and a few float toys.  We’d climb the ladder and get into the water, which was gently warmed by the rays of the sun, and this was how we passed the time all Summer long.

The Hallers had a row of red raspberry bushes planted all along the fence line and conveniently reachable from the pool. While their brown hound dog frolicked around the perimeter of the pool, wishing he could jump in and join us, we’d be pulling raspberries off the bush, just as fast as we could.  We would be alternatively popping those sweet berries into our mouth and sipping a fizzy Faygo Rock N’ Rye in one of those tall and colorful aluminum tumblers that were all the rage in the mid-1960s.  Ahhhh, life was sweet at 10 ½ years old, with not a care in the world … that is, until Mrs. Haller called out the window “now girls, remember not to pick any raspberries from the bottom half of the bushes in case Brownie peed on them okay?”

Oops!

Gulp!

[Image by Pixel2013 from Pixabay]

From bucket lists to buckets – I saw it all in the past few days.

The joy of walking in my first 5K this past Saturday, was overshadowed by a series of incidents that left me hesitant to throw off the covers, get out of bed and start a new day that just might be filled with more calamities and catastrophes.

First, our computer system at work crashed. Thursday morning I was checking in and discovered that nasty message “site not reachable” so I called our computer guy at 5:45 a.m.  The whole system was down.  Compounding that little difficulty was the fact that I had three documents to be finalized to send to the client in advance of a big meeting and my boss was leaving for Georgia on business.  Well, great – just great.  The system was down for 24 hours, and sure, Thursday was a free day for me, but I had to scramble around on Friday, when I had other fish to fry.

Friday, I had a crew of four coming to install insulation in the house. It was an all-day job and it started raining two minutes after they began to drill a series of holes in the bricks and siding to inject foam insulation.  I predicted it would rain a month ago when I booked the install date.  (Just sayin’.)  The rain eventually stopped but the drilling didn’t.  The noise was deafening.  It rattled my nerves as I was trying my best to make up for the lost work day and keep everybody happy on the work front.

The crew left the premises Friday evening and may be “long gone” as Ernie Harwell would say, but the mess they left behind will not be gone for a very long time. I could have cried as I looked downstairs in my already-messy basement.  Well, baby steps I thought … that’s how to approach restoring order to this area once again.  I vowed to start cleaning up once I returned from the “Rails Rally” the following day.

Flash forward to Saturday afternoon. I was a few minutes into cleaning up the laundry room when I saw water in the plastic dishpan I keep under the laundry tub.  I peered in.  Then I ran the tap and watched as the water flowed down the sink and into the dishpan.  Not good!  Of course we were in day #1 of a heat wave that would see temps soar into the 90s, and the hose for the A/C drains into the laundry tub.  So, I could empty the pan every few hours, including overnight, or shut off the A/C altogether.

Hmmmm.

I chewed on those two options for a bit, then I stewed awhile and figured I just wouldn’t run the A/C. How hot could it get?  After all, I had new insulation to keep those hot rays at bay.  Why couldn’t we have enjoyed just a few more cooler days in the 60s?

So, at 8:00 p.m. on Saturday night, I called the plumber who just moved his business from Taylor into the neighborhood. He charges the same for days/nights/weekends or holidays and was willing to come out right then, but I was content to wait until Sunday.

So, Tim and Chris, the plumber and his helper, showed up at 10:00 a.m. Along the way, he fixed my small leak in the upstairs double sink as well. I won’t bore you with the details of the idiosyncrasies of a double sink, that was installed in our Bicentennial year, and the white PVC pipe that cracked up at the top, necessitating a whole new double sink pipe fixture. It had been problematic for a few months and I just monitored the tiny leak, intending to get it fixed eventually.  Yup, the kitchen pipes were a bit of a bugger of a job, but I digress.

Meanwhile … downstairs, the laundry tub pipe needed to be replaced as the pipe was corroded and I watched that leaking pipe fall apart in Tim’s hands as he hooked his wrench around it. I said a silent prayer to say thank you for not having done a load of washing and gone upstairs until the load was finished and returned to find water everywhere.  Of course, the A/C had to be shut off, while he ran to Home Depot for supplies and I watched the thermostat climb to 78 as I awaited his return and the new pipe was in place and the water and the A/C could be turned on again.

Then Tim inspected my drain in the floor – “oh-oh” he said, “going forward, you’d better monitor how fast your laundry tub drains, because if it drains slowly, we might have to clean out the floor drain.” I nodded sagely … after all, a hot water tank had sprung a leak back in ’92 and our neighbor helped us steer the water down the drain by using an oversized squeegee because the drain was not functioning well at all.

So I said “okay, let’s do it!”

All too soon I realized that the teeth-jarring drilling that reverberated in the house most of Friday was tame, compared to a jackhammer drilling two feet into the neatly tiled floor, right beneath where I was sitting upstairs in the hall. The pair cleared the drain and cemented it back up and put in a shiny new drain in the middle.  It now looks like a big gray cement donut, about two feet in diameter, smack in the center of the laundry room.

It’s a great conversation starter for those who frequent my basement like the Flame Furnace tech, who will be doing his routine Spring A/C check this coming Saturday.

I told the plumbing guys their boss sure was glad he took my call on Saturday night, almost twenty-four hours before, as I was good for business.

There have been some angst-filled hours over this past week. I shudder each time I look downstairs, which is a shambles after the insulation crew moved items and neglected to put them back in place, not to mention a fine cloud of cellulose dust that is clinging to all my possessions.  A similar scenario exists in the garage.  I now have two projects to keep me busy every weekend for the rest of the year.

Sigh.

Life is so full of highs and lows … gains and losses … fulfilling bucket lists to filling buckets.

On the plus side, I’ve got zero water worries now … but my pocketbook is lighter.

Oh, I’m sure that I gained a few gray hairs to boot.

And, it’s a darn good thing no M&Ms were handy, as I just may have gone off the wagon and polished off a bag or two or three.

Today was my first 5K event!

Even though I walk about four miles daily, participating in a 5K event was on my bucket list for awhile.

So, when I saw the Lincoln Park Schools Education Foundation Second Annual “Rails Rally” Run/Walk advertised on the City’s Facebook site, I decided to sign up. After all, the event was being held at my favorite stomping grounds, Council Point Park.

I registered way back in March, and, when I got the e-mail this week showing a map of the route and registration information for event day, I started getting excited about it.

Though it was a picture-perfect day, it was a tad hot, and I wished we would have kept those cooler temps awhile longer.

The crowd was excited and milled about the big rock at the entrance of Council Point Park as they waited for the official start time.

A whistle blew to start the event at 9:00 a.m. sharp, and,the runners, who were up in front of the walkers, broke the blue ribbon and were off.

The contingent of walkers was not far behind them.

The route for the run/walk began at Council Point Park, then followed a one-mile tour in the neighboring streets, then back to walk both loops at the Park. In the ‘hood, it was already bright and sunny, and, many people waved and cheered us on as they sat on their porch enjoying their morning coffee.  Water stations along the way were manned by volunteer ROTC students and it was an excellent way to down a Dixie cup of cool water, and be on your way again.

I had already decided that I was in this event to sponsor a good cause, and attend merely for sport and not competition. I had the mindset that I’d “take it all in”, get some photos and just kind of meander along enjoying the ambiance.  I figured I’d need to stop to feed the squirrels, but they must have been fearful of the crowds and the noise, and never came down from their trees.

I therefore soon began lagging behind as I ambled along taking some pictures and chatting it up with several nice women who were retired teachers and one was a principal. I later connected with a long-lost neighbor and caught up on old times.

At one point I turned around and saw a policeman, whose vehicle was following close behind the stragglers, and, as I walked past the car’s open window, I said “I walk four miles every day – how come I am so behind Officer?” to which he very politely said “guess it is because you are taking pictures Ma’am.”

It was not just two-legged participants at the “Rails Rally” as there were quite a few four-legged participants as well. One runner had her two large dogs with her, but she kept stopping to mop her brow with a towel or give her canine companions some water from a portable bowl.

This poor dog looked hot and tired and just too pooped to participate.

As people neared the finish line, even the walkers broke into a sprint to cross. On the digital counter, my information said I did the 5K in 54 minutes.  Not stellar stats by any means, as I usually get four miles done in that time, but I had already walked from home so that added another 3/4s of a mile to my morning walk.

It didn’t matter how late you arrived at the finish line, there was handclapping, and you were directed to the pavilion area for bottled water, bananas and apples.

Miles and smiles were our reward for participating in this walk to raise money for the Lincoln Park Schools Education Foundations, and I will look forward to the third annual event next June.

It was another chilly morning, with the digital thermostat registering a mere 70 degrees in the house when I suited up to leave on my walk. Outside it was 52 degrees.  I really wasn’t sure what to wear.  Mother Nature has the weather in a constant state of flux and I have vowed not to switch on the furnace, nor to return to a heavy coat again until Fall.  It is just not right for the first week of June, although I hear we are getting a big warm-up this weekend.

But, I kind of like when it is cool and breezy, like today, over hot and sticky. This morning the sun WAS out and that was good, but it was not warming me up much.

I am still forced to take the big detour around Pagel Avenue, until the construction work is finished at the end of June. Alas, my quickest route to the Park as I go to and fro, has me passing my former elementary school twice a day.

I only attended Frank G. Mixter Elementary School for one school year, before making the big leap to junior high, which is termed “middle school” now.

It was not a year of fun, as I’ve mentioned in prior blogposts. Instead, that 1966-67 school year was filled with classmates poking fun at me, this little Canadian girl, who pronounced words differently, and, even Mr. Schreiber, our sixth grade teacher, mocked my accent and pronunciation of words, and always ridiculed me before my peers.  I will never forgive him since he made me read aloud to the class, who snickered at my recitation of whatever text I was forced to repeat.

I won’t dwell on those unhappy days for this post, but, instead will tell you that it was with much glee that I skipped out of those double doors in June 1967, once school was done for the Summer. I was only too happy to move on.

But today, as I passed Mixter Elementary School, those memories came flooding back, and, the recognition that it was still another one of those monumental anniversaries – I cannot believe that I am marking fifty years since I left the stomping grounds of that old school.

My former elementary school, once a source of childhood angst, closed permanently in 2009, then reopened as a school for special needs students, ages 18-26. The students attend a day program which is geared to help them learn independent living skills, and, even more importantly, eventual employability.  At the Mixter Institute for Transition, there is even a thrift store which is operated by the students, with proceeds going toward field trips or other enrichment experiences for the program attendees.

I think the students were going on a trip as there were adults accompanying the group, and, I watched them file, one by one, out of the front of the school and queue up for the bus.  The bus driver waited patiently, as the contingent of students and other attendees, approached the bus.  Meanwhile, her vehicle was emitting diesel-fuel-ridden puffs of smoke, which noxious smell filled my nostrils in the brisk morning air.  Occasionally, she jumped up to help shepherd a student to his or her seat.

I rounded the corner and left the bus and its driver, the passel of passengers and all those memories from five decades ago behind.

I then concentrated on getting to Council Point Park, where I hustled along the trail to keep warm and get as many steps in as possible before heading home … and, oh yes … along the way, I tendered peanuts to the squirrels and positioned two more painted rocks so they were visible along the perimeter path.

Life is sweet and simple sometimes, even simpler than back at the old school.

On a dismal-looking gray morning, I scooted out the door, not just because I was running a little late, but, a quick glance at the sky made it seem as if a cloudburst was imminent. I missed a walk yesterday, and, really should have gone once the sun came out, but, by then it was hot and humid and less enticing … to me anyway.

This morning, besides a bag of peanuts and my umbrella, I was toting a little treasure that was sure to brighten someone’s day. I was sure no one could miss that neon pink rock in the midst of the gloomy gray setting.  Today, it was my turn to hide the colorful rock at Council Point Park.  I first mentioned this group called “Downriver Rocks!” back on May 7^th in this blog post: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2017/05/07/rocky-road/

Since I wrote about the rock group, it has grown in leaps and bounds and now has 2,611 members, twice as many in barely a month’s time. It seems that most of these good-hearted souls with artistic abilities are hiding their treasures at Michigan’s many parks. Though I check the site daily, I’ve not painted or lettered any rocks yet, just found one and delivered others.  My neighbor Marge, and her granddaughter Monique, painted a half-dozen rocks, and it was my “assignment” to hide their booty of colorful creativity.  I dropped off two at Southland when I visited that mall on Saturday, and, this morning I left a hot-pink monster sitting at Council Point Park.  I believe that neon-colored gem will soon be scooped up to brighten someone’s day with its goofy, lopsided grin.  I even walked around the same loop twice to check if anyone snagged it from the spot in which I left it – but nope, there it still was, even the second time around.

Those painted rocks have beautiful images or messages that are heartfelt, the sentiment may be sweet, but not sappy, or sometimes the words are simple like above.  I continue to be amazed about how many artists are in our immediate area. The rock pictured above was painted from a fellow rock group member.

There is a saying that not all treasures are silver and gold. My treasure today was breathing in deep during a brisk walk in some pretty brisk weather for June 5th … I hope you found your treasure today as well.

Thankfully it is finally Friday, and, don’t you wish you had gone fishin’ on this beautiful day, just like this guy I saw at Council Point Park yesterday?

This fisherman had high hopes of catching dinner … he had cast his line into the water, plus, you’ll note, he even had a spare pole and line, which would be helpful having both hands free, just in case he snagged a big old fish.

Or a muskrat.

Or, even an old shoe.

I left earlier than usual so I could look for him today and hear any fish tales he might want to tell me, that I could in turn share on this blog. But, he wasn’t stationed at his post on the cement precipice, and, in fact was nowhere to be found.  So, my query of how many fish he caught and how many got away, will now have to wait until next time I see him.  I want to know if I should keep my eyes peeled for big fish leaping out of the Creek water.

Most of us were lucky enough to enjoy a long weekend over Memorial Day. We crammed in many activities in that three-day period, working around the anticipated rain, and the eventual stormy weather.  And then, all too soon, Tuesday was here and we trudged back to work. Then, it seems we paid the price for that extra day off as we sought to cram five days’ work into four days.  That  was my week anyway.

I think we need another three-day holiday by now. Besides, I was just getting used to what day it was, since I was  a “day off” all week – you too?

I love our state’s “Pure Michigan” commercials, and the “Gone Fishin’” commercial is one of my favorites. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRkL700sOWE

Don’t you wish you could just hang a sign up whenever you felt like vacating the premises, whether it is work or home – just to get out of Dodge and do something fun, like fishing?

It was another cool and sunny day at the Park, a flawless blue sky overhead and lots of walkers who, like me, got an early start at the Park. Something new was added to the mix as a skateboarder was on the perimeter path.  That was a first, and I waited to see the reaction by the geese to this “movin’ man” but, not a goose was to be found.

I think the critters are hiding behind the wild rhubarb which grows all along the perimeter path. The leaves are huge, some are as big as my head.  You sometimes think your eyes are playing a trick on you, when you see a squirrel or rabbit dart from the path into nowhere, only to see a telltale tail peeking out from behind the oversized leaves.

The weekend has arrived, and, so also are those pesky weekend tasks that rob us of “me time” … get them done early, then maybe you, too, can head off to a favorite fishing hole, just like this guy did.

It was so chilly in the house this morning, that after the alarm buzzed, I promptly shut it off and my warm hand met the cold metal clock. Yikes!  I quickly burrowed back into the covers, with only my head exposed, to stay warm.  It was 72 degrees in the house when I eventually got up and at ‘em, but, to me, it felt very cold, even though it may not have been frosty or polar-like on this first day of June.

Finally, the stiffness of pulled muscles from two days of yardwork have left. Even though I walk 3 ½ to 4 miles a day, all those steps don’t really make you limber.  I woke up feeling like a Mack truck ran over me the day after each yardwork session during the long holiday weekend.

Reluctantly, I finally flipped back the covers and padded down the hall, intent on wrapping my hands around a hot cup of coffee, which would warm my fingers and my innards at the same time.

Last week, I decided no more running the furnace until the Fall. For the past decade, I have fretted about the house being too cold on those late Spring or early Fall mornings when the outside temps hovered around 50 degrees.  That was because, since 2006, I worried about Sugar, then Buddy, my pet canaries, and that they would be too cold, so I cranked up the heat for them.  But, now that both are gone, I will just put on a sweater and deal with the chilly house.

When I finally headed outside, I decided to take the car for a spin and leave it in the parking lot while I walked my four miles, which is two entire loops at Council Point Park.   Each walker I passed made a comment on the sunny, but cool weather.  But, they were not registering complaints, as if Mother Nature would listen even if we did complain.  We walkers sure were enjoying these cooler temps.  After all, who really wants to traipse along the trail during a hot Spring and Summer like we had last year?

Today, I saw more people than critters, thus no photo ops. I may have taken 90 pictures the other day, but since waterfowl and squirrels are on the move most of the time, a lot of those photos end up being duds.  But, many of the shots were indeed salvageable, and I’ll be sharing them in future blogposts, like this turtle on the log I discovered last Sunday.

There are always the songbirds present, even if the ducks and geese are absent, but the squirrels must’ve been hiding as well, save for one lone squirrel who pestered me for peanuts. He spied me coming down the path and scrambled over to greet me, just like Lassie used to come running for Timmy when he stepped off the school bus.  Gee, it made me feel kind of special for a few moments, until I got a grip and realized I was merely one of several benefactors to the Park squirrels.  This morning, I ditched the coat, and thus had tied a grocery store bag onto my fanny pack to hold the bag of peanuts until I needed them.  The chill morning air made my bare fingers numb, so I couldn’t get the knot opened.  That squirrel did not have a lot of patience for me and my clumsiness in attending to his needs, so he paced back and forth, as my cold fingers struggled to gain access to the bag, and, then I still had to open the Ziploc bag.  In short order, that squirrel became downright fretful and finally stood on my left shoe, then on his haunches, as he tried to reach the bag himself, perhaps thinking I was ignoring him.  Well, that was cute and daring of that little squirrel, and, I finally settled him down by rattling the bag to announce I would be dispensing peanuts onto the perimeter path for him.

I guess there are more inhabitants underwater than the lowly muskrats, bullfrogs and cute turtles at the Ecorse Creek. This morning, a man was fishing from the cement precipice.  He cast his line way out, dropping the baited hook into the murky waters of the Ecorse Creek. If it hadn’t been a work day, I’d have stopped and chatted, and asked if he was there for sport, or, anticipating a fish of some sort, because I’ve never seen a fish bigger than a minnow jumping around in this Creek.

I had just started on my second trip around the perimeter path, when suddenly the pale sun morphed into a bright sun, and the whole Park was bathed in sunbeams. Ahh  – finally I might warm up a bit.  As I passed the half-submerged log in the Creek, I noticed the contingent of turtles had made their way out of the cold water and onto the log.  Maybe they ought to call this slight bend in the creek “Turtle Creek”?

The turtles were lined along the log, sunning themselves, feeling the warmth of Ol Sol on their shells, their heads and legs exposed. I could finally push up the sleeves of my sweatshirt and felt that burst of warmth as those rays bounced onto my bare forearms and my head.

A little sun sure is good for the soul, isn’t it?

We were blessed with another beautiful morning, so I set out for the Park, intending to pick up the pace and add more steps to my morning walk. I hate that I didn’t make my Memorial Day walking goal, so I’ll work harder on meeting my next goal for Independence Day.

It was a breezy morning at the Park and that wind whispered through the trees (and my ears as well). The sun was high in the bright-blue sky and soon I had shucked my jacket.

Today, the walkers were plentiful, as were the moms pushing strollers – four in all, and, not just strolling and rolling along leisurely either. There are two young women at the Park who routinely jog while pushing their baby in a stroller.  Energized by the beat of tunes from their iPods, these women go like the wind, whizzing past all the walkers and bikers, ponytails streaming behind them.  Often their offspring’s ringlets or baby-fine hair is swirling around with each breezy gust encountered.  Those babies may not be able to take in all the sights, but they are getting a good dose of fresh air and sunshine, while their moms are working to shed that “baby fat” – pretty smart idea, huh?

After taking about 90 pictures on my unhurried Sunday stroll, I’ve carried the camera, but never even taken it out of the case this past three days.  I saw a large muskrat swimming in the Creek – well, that was something different, but he took a look at me, and dived back underwater.  I didn’t think I looked all that scary looking, but the brisk wind had no doubt left me a bit disheveled, with my messy bun probably a little messier than usual.  Oh well … muskrats aren’t really my cup of tea anyway.

The long grass had been freshly mowed throughout the entire 27 acres of the Park, totally changing the landscape from yesterday. I saw the lawn crew gearing up with their big mowers for this massive task, just as I exited the Park Tuesday.  So, as a result, not as many geese were grazing as in recent days.  I saw only one family and the gander was in a rather fractious mood as I walked by.  Actually, I think it is the same goose who was prone to hissing and some histrionics on Sunday, while I was taking all the pictures.  I wanted to say “back off Bud!” to him, as he was really riled up once again.  Clearly, something, or someone, had ruffled his feathers this morning, and it wasn’t just the wind.

These pictures are of the goose who had his gander up when I first encountered him on Sunday. The picture up top I’d call “The Stare” … or, maybe “The Glare” might be a better title.  Below, I later met up with him on the perimeter path, and there was that bright pink tongue as he hissed for me to stay away!

I got those extra steps done and arrived home ravenous, disheveled and a little worse for wear on this windy Wednesday, but happy for the brief escape from the City.

Well, despite the dire predictions of an all-rainy weekend by every local meteorologist, I think we fared pretty well, though the tail end of today is turning out to be a washout. As I type this blog post, I hear thunder rolling and we might be slated for another downpour … easily the third or fourth this evening.

I soaked up enough Vitamin D this weekend to last me until the 4^th of July, between walking and working out in the yard under sunny skies.  I am convinced that yardwork is for younger legs and now rue the day that I made the decision to put ornamental rocks around the perimeter of the house and that planting small bushes in those rocks would look great!  Well, maybe it has given the old abode considerably more curb appeal, but keeping bushes trimmed small to complement the house and keeping the lava rock, river rock, plus mulched garden beds, weed free becomes a Herculean task each Spring.  But, it is done now and I am thankful for that.

Today’s trip to Council Point Park was uneventful compared to yesterday’s journey on the perimeter path. There was no chattering away as fellow walkers were scarce, and, even the critters were absent – not one squirrel came begging for peanuts.  A lone goose booed and hissed at me for no apparent reason as I crossed his path on the first loop.  It was not as if I got in his way, nor was I taking photos of him, but, all of a sudden, there he was, flapping his wings, repeatedly arching and contorting his long and slender black neck like geese do when agitated, and, of course, there was the bright pink tongue hissing at me.

Even my latest nature nook find – the turtles – were missing from their partially submerged log in the middle of the Creek.

Well, it was a holiday after all, so perhaps everyone was sleeping in.

The first long weekend of the year, long touted as the gateway to Summer, has come and gone. Once again, we had the opportunity to honor our fallen heroes for their bravery, and, for giving the ultimate sacrifice.  Though I have never lost a family member, nor friend, due to war, we have had several neighbors through the years, whose sons returned from an armed conflict wounded, unable to complete their tour of duty, and they retired from the military thereafter.

I spent some time at Memorial Park earlier this week when I went to view the many flags that were placed there by the Lincoln Park Exchange Club. Those flags remained there as of this morning, flapping in the early morning breeze, a symbol of patriotism and honor for the fallen service personnel in our city.

It was calm and quiet when I left the house to head to Council Point Park this morning. That’s not unusual for the middle day of a long holiday weekend. Windows in homes were cracked open, so there was no contingent of air conditioner units humming along the way. Cars were scarce and people were scarcer.

It was quiet yesterday as well, that is … up until around 11:00 a.m. when the neighborhood came to life. It seemed as if everyone who did not get their yardwork done on Friday evening, decided to fire up their mowers, weed whippers and blowers at the same time. I had been busy trimming bushes with the electric shears for a couple of hours, so I, too, was contributing to the cacophony of noise. The neighborhood dogs rebelled at the whine and drone of the yard equipment and much howling and/or barking ensued.

After a noisy Saturday, topped by a series of fireworks in the neighborhood last night, this morning’s peace and solitude was welcome. I swear that when I set out this morning I could hear the slugs as they inched along the concrete, leaving their slimy iridescent trails behind them. The only sounds were the birds who were greeting me from their respective perches in each neighborhood that I passed. Poplar tree fuzzies were abundant, and noiselessly clung to my sweat suit as I walked along.

This morning’s trip to the Park was perfect … it satisfied the steps quotient for the day and provided a little wide-eyed wonderment as well.

First, I met several other nature lovers, who, like me, were enjoying the many picturesque moments this Park has to offer. And, just like me, they paused to appreciate the view with their eyes, as well as to capture the images with their cameras.

Last Friday, I wrote about the many families of geese at Council Point Park. There were easily twice as many geese there today, all segregated by their respective families. I counted at least seven families all together. You really could not look anywhere without seeing geese – on the trail, in the grassy areas, or in the water. The geese sure monopolized the perimeter path, blocking the trail as they meandered slowly across, their offspring trailing close behind them. There was much booing and hissing as we humans neared, and, on several occasions, we were forced to leave the trail and walk on the grass since they refused to budge. There were more photo ops as several families went down to the precipice and accessed the Creek, one by one, as they plopped into the water, and several families paddled in tandem down the middle of the Creek.

Another family of geese lurked in the marshy area and I got some close-up shots at that venue of the parents and goslings, but, I had already tucked the camera back into its case, when a Red-Winged Blackbird decided to antagonize this family, just as the parents were herding the goslings from the water and up the embankment. That bird tried to land on one of the parents and much hissing and wing-flapping occurred as that goose tried to shoo the Blackbird away. But that bird persisted in buzzing around the geese, until it tired of the game (or perhaps feared for its life) and flew back up to a tree.

After an absence of a few weeks’ time, the hawk was back, circling overhead, and several of us walkers stopped in our tracks, gazing up in the sky, and shading our eyes from the sun, as we watched the hawk soaring, that large wingspan taking it higher and higher, until it was just a dark speck in the sky.

I walked along with a man and woman, and suddenly, a group of squirrels gathered around us. Just like two cowboys ready to draw their pistols to engage in a gunfights at the O.K. Corral, the gentleman and I each pulled a Ziploc bag of peanuts from our respective pockets simultaneously. That was the cue, so those squirrels were just shameless – they knew both us provided treats, so they didn’t know which one to “pester” for peanuts, so they gathered at each of our feet, sitting up on haunches and begging for treats. Of course, their antics were soon rewarded.

The couple then asked me if I had seen the turtles on the log in the Creek. “No, I haven’t, but I’d really like to see them – can I tag along with you?” was my response. So, we ambled along companionably, and soon they both pointed to a log, partially submerged in the water. There was a big turtle and two smaller ones. “There are more of them when it is sunny, as they like to sun themselves on that log” the woman told me. I had to peer at them through the trees, since they advised if I got any closer, the turtles would soon seek refuge in the water. Well, there is something else to look for in my journeys around the loop.

My head swiveled back and forth and my camera was busy clicking images to share with you in future posts. I didn’t want to take the time to upload the pictures and choose which ones should accompany this blog post since severe weather will soon be on our doorstep.

For today, I am sharing a photo of a wide-eyed bunny I saw on Friday morning … he, like me, was in wonderment about the sights and sounds at Council Point Park.