WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Two days of extremely warm weather and a lot of rain have awakened the buds on the trees and bushes. They are slowly coming back to life with tiny leaves that are starting to unfurl.  From a distance, there is a slight greenish tinge surrounding those predominantly still-bare branches.  I passed a few magnolia trees and their buds were open slightly, lending a pink glow to the still-drab landscape.  And, how about those weeping cherry trees, just dripping with pale blossoms?

Ahh Spring, you make my heart sing.

We knew those Summer-like storms last night would happen; they were the penalty for a pair of delightful, but, overly warm days for early April. While it may have dawned clear but overcast this morning, yesterday’s thundershowers left their mark in large puddley potholes, or, as pools of water on the sidewalks, which walkways I was obligated to share with the worms.  The worms were everywhere once again, and they were all sitting ducks, just waiting for the Robins to gobble them up as quickly as their spindly legs could hop over there.  Those red-breasted birds will feast ‘til they burp, slurping the worms, like we kids used to suck down our spaghetti noodles when Mom wasn’t watching.

Good thing I don’t have an aversion to worms or their ilk.

I tolerate them, just as one would deal with a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin’ purple people eater should that creature ever cross your path.

The Park was peaceful and the walkers were plentiful this morning, which was surprising, given the still-damp condition of the perimeter path. But, we are all creatures of habit, and there was no precip this morning, so we laced up our respective walking shoes, and gathered at the Park – a group of strangers getting their infusion of nature while stomping out a few miles.  The birds were singing in the trees, and it was all good, until the tree cutters started up their chainsaws in a nearby yard.  I didn’t even see the crew assembled around a huge tree, until the chainsaws interrupted the peaceful morning.

The Easter holiday is slowly creeping up on us. I made my annual pilgrimage to my friend and neighbor Marge’s house to drop off her Easter treat.  This is a longstanding tradition between us which goes back around twenty years.  We keep it simple … tradition is important.

No, there was no fanfare or big extravaganza involved here. No elaborate Easter basket filled with treats or trinkets nestled in cellophane grass and a tall chocolate bunny presiding over those goodies.  Nor was there a box or fancy bag festooned with curling ribbon.

It was simply a box of Peeps marshmallow chicks dropped into a plastic Meijer bag and tied onto the handle of her screen door.

For Easter 2017, it was purple Peeps:

So, I guess that once Marge breaks open the cellophane and bites into one of those purple marshmallow chicks, she would be classified as a hazel-eyed, no-horned, armchair-sittin’ purple Peep eater?

This Peep-giving ritual began two decades ago, when Marge lent me her two-tier, wrought-iron outdoor table, so I could feed the birds and squirrels during the Winter in my backyard. Of course, you knew I didn’t feed only the birds and squirrels at Council Point Park.  No, I began that ritual eons ago in the backyard.  I wasn’t big on a more-traditional means of feeding the birds, because, no matter whether you use baffles, or squirrel-blocking cage devices on your bird feeders, those pesky squirrels always maneuver to find a way to alight on the feeder and feast upon those seeds.  I even tried the Birdola seeds blocks, suspended on a clothesline, only to find I had not foiled the squirrels because there they were, shimmying up the shiny metal pole and gingerly walking the “tightrope” to access the seed block.

In nice weather, I fed the birds their cut-up bread and the squirrels their peanuts before I left for work, but in Winter, it would be pitch dark in the morning and at night when I returned home. In the a.m., I had a bus to catch, so there was precious little time to spend loading a birdfeeder, so, I was hurrying out the door, then quickly I would fill the makeshift “feeders” and off to work I went.

The plan to feed the backyard critters all year ‘round was brilliant – at least I thought so anyway. I borrowed Marge’s ornamental table, and went and bought two perforated pizza pans, one 15-inch pan, and a smaller 12-inch pan.  I then laced long fuzzy pipe cleaners through the pizza pans and fastened one pan onto each table tier.  The top tier pan would hold bread tidbits for the birds; the bottom tier pan would be full of peanuts for the squirrels.  No birdfeeders to mess with or squirrels hijacking the feeders for their own use.  The squirrels got their treat and weren’t all that interested in bread tidbits.  We bought the bread in bulk … inexpensive, day-old loaves of bread from the nearby Wonder Bread outlet, and stocked up on oyster crackers in case we didn’t get to the bread store.  Peanuts were bought in bulk and similarly stashed away.  I fed them daily.

Come Spring, I removed the pans and tossed them in the trash, getting new ones the following Fall. I scrubbed up the table and returned it to Marge, accompanied by a box of Peeps – it was a thank you from the birds and me.  And, oh yes … the squirrels as well.

Back in those days, Peeps were only available in yellow – now they come in many colors, according to the holiday season. They also morph sometimes into rabbits.

But, Marge has always loved eating those Peeps and got a great big smile on her face from the gesture (and a sugar high to boot).

As neighbors, we’ve made memories and shared many tasty treats through the years. A half of an angel cake, or a third of a mince pie, or … even tomatoes or cukes, still warm from the Summer sun,  have been stuffed into a plastic store bag and tied onto our respective screen door handles.

Share and share alike is a mantra for family, good friends, or neighbors … or, for a person who is really all of the above.

Borrowing a cup of sugar for a recipe? Nope, we’ve never done that!  Meanwhile, my lips are sealed and I’m not saying a Peep about all those goodies shared or exchanged and enjoyed these past 25 years, not to mention the calories!

… a green and yellow basket.

I was thinking of that childhood rhyme this afternoon while attending the City of Lincoln Park’s annual Easter Egg Hunt over at Memorial Park. I have always wanted to go check it out and it was such a beautiful day, I made sure to get over there.

But, first things first … before I watched Peter Cottontail hopping down the bunny trail, I headed over to my own favorite trail at Council Point Park.

I left later than usual, and, once again it was family time at the Park.

There was a father and son taking what might have been their first bicycle ride together. The dad was perched on his mountain bike, and the young son had his hands in a death-grip on the handlebars of a small bike with training wheels.  I smiled as he rode by, his confidence growing when he managed to give the occasional toot of the bike’s horn (giving the geese some competition for loud noise in the peaceful Park).

Then, a mother-daughter combo were on rollerblades. Clearly, it was the little girl’s first time and her mom was encouraging her to “skate to Mom” – the youngster, with her arms spread out like she would soon take flight, was shuffling along, ever so slowly, on those rollerblades.  I did get a big smile from mom and daughter when I told the little girl she was much braver than I’d ever be, as me on rollerblades would soon become a wet spot on the pavement.

The squirrels were out in full force and rushing to gather ‘round me for their treats, and I was happy to oblige them, as usual. I took some pictures of those peanut pals to use on future blogs – of course, you can never have too many squirrels-on-haunches-with-the-I’m-here-for-the-treats-whatcha-got-for-me look photos.

I meandered along, enjoying the warm breeze, and I ditched the Summer windbreaker I had worn, and tied it around my waist before the first loop was completed.

I next watched a pair of Canada Geese come straight out of the sky and make a rather awkward landing, skidding along the top of the water while honking at one another at splashdown. They were a little unsettled, and continued honking until the water was still, then they swam on like nothing had happened.  They paused to get a drink of water, and I watched the pair dipping their slim necks deep into the murky Creek water, so their entire heads disappeared.  I was waiting to watch them emerge, camera in hand, when a man’s voice called to me “quick, look above at what you are missing!”  I looked up and saw nothing, and, then he said “wait, he is circling – get your camera ready … it’s a big hawk!”  So, I paused and waited awhile, but the hawk did not return.  I ambled on, then thanked him for pointing my gaze upward.  He said “he’s scouting for little dogs, children and squirrels” and I replied “hopefully not any of the ones in that bunch I just fed, because they were so focused on the peanuts, they would not be in tune with the hawk’s presence.”  He then said he was just kidding (but I’m not so sure about that).

But, I kept an eye to the sky and still no hawk. Then, when I was on the opposite side, there he was, a huge wingspan, gliding effortlessly in the flawless blue sky.  How majestic, but I was in the wrong place to get a picture.  There were no shade trees to shield me from the sun’s rays, and with this point-and-shoot camera, all I could see were my glasses, nose and mouth peering back at me.

So, I shot blindly, pointing the camera to the sky and clicking off about six shots.

I continued on my way, and, since I had taken the car for a spin and parked at the Park, I could do two complete loops today. On the second loop, I saw them.  Two of them – a pair of hawks gliding across the sky.  And, this time I was in a better spot, and ducked under a tree and took in their beauty, then got a few pictures.  I wondered if they were mates, as one was much larger than the other, but, I was truly awestruck by the size and the wingspan of those hawks.

After leaving the peaceful Park, I returned home and walked over to Memorial Park for the Egg Hunt. I got there a few minutes before the event began and it was really busy.

They had two large areas staked out by caution tape, to be used according to age groups, and the grass was liberally strewn with colorful plastic eggs.  The eggs were filled with candy and trinkets and the idea was to fill your basket with as many eggs as possible once the event began.

Unfortunately, a few tykes wandered under the caution tape, and began filling their basket with eggs before the event started, so a little hand slapping was in order by the mayor over the loudspeaker. Oops!

Time was called in mere minutes and the grass was no longer laden with eggs, as they had been scooped up and stuffed into wooden baskets, plush bunny buckets, or even plastic Meijer bags – it didn’t matter what type of container or flimsy bag held those eggs, as I watched the children as they sifted through their cache of colored eggs, admiring each one like it was the finest Faberge egg.

But, the real star of the show was not Mayor Karnes who was emceeing the event, but the Easter Bunny, who waved to everyone, and alternately dispensed hugs or high fives to those who were not intimidated by his presence.

After collecting their eggs, kids were invited to pose with the Easter Bunny and parents stood by, ready to capture the image with their smartphone or digital camera.  Some kids seemed bewildered, or stayed back a few paces while looking like an outburst of tears was imminent; still others were only too happy to snuggle up to the likeable E.B.  I laughed, as did others in the crowd, when one youngster ran up and hugged the Easter Bunny’s knees … well, there’s a warm and fuzzy moment if there ever was one.

It was a stupendous weather day and the perfect way to start off Easter week. If you’ve never heard the song “A-tisket, a-tasket” you might as well get an earworm like I have and head over here to feel like a kid again: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xb5yuhgKgKc

Whenever I open the screen door to step outside these days, it’s a sure bet that a Robin will be sitting on the cyclone fence, a scowl on its face, and a steely stare that is aimed in my general direction.

This is because there is bad blood between these red-breasted birds and me, and, they will never forget that I’ve wreaked havoc on their happy home multiple times through the years. So, my dear Robins … guilt me if you must, but my stance doesn’t change.

If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you know that I wage an annual battle with the Robins once Spring arrives, as they try their best to build a nest in the elbow of the coach light in the front of the house. They’ll set up a nest over the course of the day, constructing it of twigs, mud and dried grass.  The nest is very large and sturdy, and, although the construction is admirable, many of the nest fixin’s usually end up on the mailbox lid.  There will be big drops of  mud with embedded twigs and grass caked on the lid.  Mud splatters are also down the wall, even on the porch, not to mention bird droppings!  Rather than sweep down the nest every day, I’ve taken to plugging up the coach light elbow area with bags filled with newspapers and pinwheels poked into the bags.  It looks pretty silly, but it works and keeps any further nest-building at bay.  Then come mid-June, the contraption can be taken down.

It certainly is not because I don’t like birds … I just have no patience with these Robins and their mess every Spring. Last year, due to our mild weather, they started the nest-building efforts in March.

Of course, the Robins sense my dislike of their cozy home. Yup,  it is no secret, and, I guess I am giving them the evil eye or bad vibes, thus, the perpetual scowl whenever I cross their paths.

But, as much as I disdain those red-breasted birds, their surly attitudes and bossiness of inviting themselves to move on in, my friend and next-door neighbor, Marge, embraces the idea of the anticipation of new life and little ones in a natural habitat mere inches from her own living quarters.  She does not take an attitude, nor a broom, when any bird comes a’callin’ and builds its nest at her house.

So, this is probably why Mama Mourning Dove misappropriated Marge’s empty mesh wire planter, as a safe haven to lay her eggs, keep them warm and await the hatching of her brood. Marge was ecstatic, and, in researching Mourning Dove breeding habits, Marge discovered, that after the eggs were laid, both Mama and Papa Dove take turns incubating the eggs.  Papa takes the day shift; Mama pulls the all-nighter.  While their mate is keeping the eggs warm, the other is out foraging for food.  Marge sent me this picture of the Mourning Dove feeling safe in the ornamental basket that is tucked on the top shelf of a wrought-iron gazebo.  This might have been Papa pictured above since it was daylight. By Marge’s calculations, the hatching may take place on Good Friday.  Precious new life … just perfect for Spring.

Meanwhile, we might still be waiting on April the Giraffe and her calf to be born.

Though the day started out ugly and gray, cold and windy, and, without a single redeeming reason to lure me out for a walk, at least it was not raining, or snowing, or “snaining” as the late, eccentric weatherman Sonny Eliot used to refer to that unique combo of rain and snow.

I stepped out anyway, thankful it was dry, and, by the time I returned, I swear that the sky was a beautiful Robin’s egg blue. One look at that pretty blue sky, then I immediately glanced up to the coach light.  Whew, no untoward activity going on there – yet.

This weekend promises to be just spectacular, especially Palm Sunday which will be sunny and 70 degrees. Perfect for walking – I can’t wait.

I was ready to get going just as soon as it was light out. After all, today is the American Heart Association’s 10^th annual “National Walking Day”.

However, before setting out to pound the pavement, I did a quick inspection:

Camera? – Check.

Pedometer? – Check.

Peanuts? – Check.

Okay, good to go.

I left earlier than usual to give the car a run, then parked at Council Point Park, thus giving myself enough time for two complete loops at my favorite go-to spot for walking and enjoying nature … for me, it is the best of both worlds.

Even though it was brisk, at least today’s weather was better than Tuesday morning . If you like alliteration … yesterday’s walking weather was warm, wet, windy and wormy.

I wasn’t the only walker celebrating the day devoted to walkers old and young. Before I ambled too far along the twists and turns of the perimeter path, I unzipped my jacket so I had handy access to the camera should I need it.

I tossed out peanuts here and there to the usual peanut pals that ran over to greet me. I saw a squirrel high up in a tree and rattled my Ziploc bag to get his (or her) attention and entice that furry critter to come down to ground level.  But, he didn’t budge, so perhaps he liked the view up there, and, probably knew I was foolish enough to leave a little pile of peanuts for him anyway, whether he was lazy and took his time, or he scrambled right down the tree.  Perhaps he knew it was a workday and I didn’t have time to linger?

So, I left three peanuts at the side of the path, and, just as I tossed them onto the asphalt, a beautiful Red-Winged Blackbird swooped down from the same tree – no slacker was he! That beautiful bird then sauntered over and pecked at a peanut, grabbed it in his beak and flew back up to the tree.  Well, that took me aback, and I figured he just did that to spite the silly, sloth-like squirrel who still lazed around on that tree branch.  In all the time I’ve spent at Council Point Park, I’ve never seen a Red-Winged Blackbird go after peanuts.  (Of course, I Googled when I got online, and sure enough – this species enjoys peanuts.)  Who knew that a marsh-living bird would favor peanuts over grubs and berries … any port in a storm I guess.  There are no grubs out yet, and no berry bushes in the Park that I’ve ever seen.

Time to move on, so “ya snooze, ya lose” I called up to the squirrel before getting back to my walk. It didn’t faze him in the least.

Spring is loading slowly at the Park, and a few trees are beginning to bud and show tiny leaves and the grass is even beginning to green up.

All too soon, a pair of figure eight loops were walked and a blog post was bubbling around in my head – unbelievably this is my 900^th post on my “Walkin’, Writin’, Wit & Whimsy” blog since I began blogging at WordPress on February 11, 2013!

Twitter was trending as to #NationalWalkingDay and I discovered a factoid that I must share. According to one study, walking can boost creative thinking by up to 60%.   Hmmmm.  More walking = more blog posts … well, aren’t  you all lucky!?

I headed home, thankful for the ambiance at the nature nook, and with an even bigger bounce in my step than I had left with.

[Image by Aurelia-ev from Pixabay]

Even though our daytime temps flirted with the 60-degree mark two months ago, (a fact which we all knew was a fluke for February in Southeast Michigan), to me, today felt like the first real Spring day.

So, here we are on the cusp of baseball season, and, those dreary, rain-filled days are a distant memory, perhaps Spring fever might finally be settling in.

Today I left for my walk later than usual to bask in the mid-day warmth, and, just by stepping outside, Spring assailed my senses.

First, I opened the screen door and automatically glanced over to my neighbor Marge’s big thermometer, and, yes … it was already well over 50 degrees and the sun was shining brightly in the blue sky.

But, something caught my eye besides just that thermometer that is mounted on the wooden deck. It was Mama Mourning Dove who was perched on the top bar of the glider where she could monitor the egg resting in the nest she had so carefully crafted.  This little feathered lady found herself an ornamental mesh wire basket that is tucked away onto the top shelf of a wrought-iron gazebo.  Marge’s son, Jeff, discovered the nest and egg yesterday.  So now, we can all watch and wait for the hatching of one, or maybe more, baby doves.

After shutting the screen door, as I walked to the garage to run the car, I could not help but notice my neighbor across the street rolling a huge black motorcycle out of the garage and onto the driveway. I’ve often heard that motorcycle, but never saw its owner.  So, while I ran the car in the garage, I glanced across the street in my rearview mirror.  I saw a selfie being taken, then, while watching her reflection in the kitchen window, the helmet was donned after tucking her hair carefully beneath it.  The kickstand went up, and soon that Motorcycle Mama took off with a loud vroom.

I shut the garage and walked down the driveway, as I still heard the rumble of that big machine in the distance, long after she had turned the corner.

As I mentioned above, I think our weather also has turned a corner. Within a block, I’d shed my gloves, depositing them in the bag I was using to carry not one, but two, Ziploc bags of peanuts for the squirrels at Council Point Park.  I was feeling generous today, since last time they were clamoring for more, and I hate to disappoint them.  To ensure I don’t run out for future forays to the Park, I bought another two large bags when I went grocery shopping yesterday.

Two blocks later, the hat came off and was similarly shoved into the bag, then my coat was off and looped around my waist. At that rate, I probably should have just headed back home and ditched those clothes, but I stayed the course.

Nothing signals Spring’s arrival like the first day the forsythia bushes begin to bloom. I passed dozens of homes with that touch of bright-yellow on their property – how welcome those golden dabs are in the still-drab landscape!

I walked leisurely, enjoying the birdsong that came from every tree I passed.

No rest on Sunday for the woodpeckers, who were hard at work, rat-a-tat-tatting while drilling holes with their beaks in their favorite tree.

I smelled that smoky burn of charcoal briquettes and saw a plume of dark smoke wafting from a backyard kettle grill.

And, as I neared Council Point Park, I heard the squeals of laughter by children at the playground equipment, where they queued up and disappeared down into the tunnels of the covered, curvy slides.

Once I got to the Park, I found the parking lot full. It was Sunday strolling for many families who walked the perimeter path with babies in strollers, or tots toddling at their heels.  Older children passed me on bicycles, their wheels whirring on the perimeter path as they zoomed by.

For once, the squirrels did not wage a full-on attack once they saw me. I was a little disappointed, but soon realized it was because I was not the only one tendering treats today.  A trio of women brought lots of peanuts and each was tossing them out while simultaneously snapping photos with a smartphone.  Just like when I feed them and have my camera in tow, those eager squirrels were only too happy to rush over and swarm around those women to get their share of peanuts and pose for the obligatory photos.

When I got to the second loop of the perimeter path, I found a pair of eager squirrels who rushed on over, thus helping to quickly repair my wounded feelings.

The tree that snapped in two and was the subject of a recent blog post is still there, its top half remaining submerged in the murky waters of the Creek.

The sunshine and warm day brought out the best in people, and even the pooches accompanying their masters, were wagging their tails … yup, everyone was enjoying their Spring Fling.

What more could we ask for on this first Sunday in April?

I did two complete loops today, which, including my roundtrip from home is five miles. I felt like I could have walked more, but didn’t want to overdo it.  As I got to the end of the second loop, one of the many memorial trees on the grounds got my attention with its new and beautiful silk flower arrangement at the base, with a very lifelike butterfly hovering nearby.

I realized then, that flowers and butterflies were the only things missing from this beautiful Spring day. But, we all have patience – this is Michigan after all, and, in a couple of more months, flowers and butterflies also will be present and accounted for.

Well, this morning I felt like a little kid again, succumbing to the many puddles that had collected in the sidewalks enroute to the railroad tracks in Wyandotte. I was not surprised to see so many gigantic puddles, given the intensity of the rain yesterday, plus, there were at least three thunderstorms that I counted.

Well, no need to complain about all that rain – besides, that could have been snowflakes falling from the sky, and, in fact they had snow and hail in the northern ‘burbs. Whew, glad it was not us!

All Winter I’ve been amused by this yard ornament pictured above. That’s because, thankfully, the snow never made it to the top of that snowman yardstick.  It never even came close.  Global warming or we were just lucky?

As to the weather, just like on the first day of March, I have yet to hear a peep today about whether this month is going to exit like a lamb or a lion. Given the rain today, I’m going to say that March departs like a docile lamb.

When I stepped outside and didn’t feel any droplets of rain, I hustled out and ran the car and was soon on my way. There was a worm explosion last night, or early this morning, since the sidewalks were jam packed with baby worms crawling around; they were unsure whether to duck back into the grass, or simply slither along the concrete with their brethren.

As I passed Ford Park, I glanced over and there were a multitude of low spots in the vast fields, because massive pools of standing water were everywhere. I noted that the robins were gleeful about all the pools of water  – it was like going to the country club for them.  Those red-breasted birds were either bathing in the puddles, or simply sipping the clear water and supping on worms.

Walking up and down Emmons took some careful planning to avoid getting my shoes soaking wet, and, I soon found myself sidestepping puddles to step on grassy/muddy lawns, or just walking in the street.  I’m not in favor of the latter choice, since Emmons is a fairly busy street, especially on a weekday, but, that is how I navigated around for the most part.  I finally tired of dodging mud puddles and detected a spritz or two of rain droplets dancing on my nose, so I turned around and picked my way back home again.

A glance at the sky told me those clouds might contain plenty more precip, and, we were, after all, due for a rainy day once again. I felt lucky to have eked out a walk.  The sky sure was dark and ominous looking.  I think the solution to brighten up the sky is to take all those yellow crayons that Crayola has deemed a “dud” color, and use that hue (“Dandelion”) to color some sunbeams into that gloomy-looking  canvas above.  (So there Crayola!)

I arrived home, without the rain having spoiled my walk, or gotten my clothing wet, but my shoes were covered with mud splatters and red tree dander was embedded in the soles. I really do covet a mud room – perhaps in my next life (or next home).  I would like to just traipse into the house, park my butt onto a bench, then remove my boots or shoes, without standing on one leg like a flamingo to do so.  Not to mention that the landing is a very small area to move around and not tumble down the cellar stairs.  But, rest assured, never again will I walk upstairs with my outside shoes on … not after I spent a weekend getting the carpeting, rugs and floor all spiffed up.

For the tail end of March, you couldn’t ask for a prettier, albeit cold, walking day. The sky was a brilliant blue and the sun was shining.  That sunshine really made me feel good, even though I still needed my woolen layers and heavy coat in the chilly morning air.

I took the car for a spin, and thought about going to Council Point Park while I was driving by, but, I had not brought along any peanuts and hated to disappoint my “followers”, so I finished my little journey, tucked the car in the garage and then set out on a walk. I decided on a round trip to the railroad tracks, a nearly four-mile excursion.

On the way back, as I neared the footbridge at Riverside Drive , I saw some commotion in the middle of the street. There was a puddle in a pothole near the curb and a trio of seagulls were standing at the edge of the puddle, clearly engrossed in studying that pool of water.  Curious, I stopped.  All of a sudden, a small fish leapt out of the puddle and did a somersault in the air.  One seagull lunged for that fish, its long and curved beak slowly opening as it honed in for the “catch”.  But, the other two seagulls never missed a beat and they, too, crowded in and opened their beaks in breathless anticipation of breakfast, each of them thinking “oh, how I wish I could have that fish!”

Well, it is the Lenten season after all.

One seagull grew tired of waiting around and dipped its beak into the puddle and caught that hapless fish by the tail. But the fish rallied back and flipped and flopped until it managed to wriggle free from the seagull’s beak, but this time it landed in the middle of the street.  Oh-oh.  While that fish kept gasping for air and flailing about, each of the seagulls had a go at it, but clearly the fish, who sensed its fate was near, continued to thwart their efforts to catch it.  Finally, the fish let its guard down, gasped, and the wily gull grabbed ahold of the fish and flipped him in the air like he was a flapjack.

The bleeding heart that I am, I started rooting for the fish. I wanted to pluck him out of harm’s way and throw him into the Creek!

I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay, and, I could have pulled out the camera to catch the antics, but it involved unzipping my coat, and pushing aside the scarf and a cardigan to access the camera case – way too much effort, and truly, did I really want to capture the image of these greedy gulls and the unfortunate fish?

Finally, the fish stopped floundering and one gull seized that opportunity and soon had clasped the near-lifeless body between its beak. In one swoop, he took off, before his compadres could steal that prize from him.  Soon he was just a white blip in the perfect blue sky and I moseyed along as well.

[Image from OpenClipArt.org]

My favorite meteorologist, Channel 4’s Paul Gross, says “rain reigns” and, as if last weekend was not bad enough, it will rain through the course of the next few days and maybe next week as well – talk about a soggy Spring!

Well, despite those gray skies, I got a walk in yesterday, and today as well. I’m up to 155 miles so far for 2017, so I’m pretty happy with that tally, considering it is only the first quarter of the year.

Well, yesterday I was overdressed, so today I was determined not to make the same mistake and so I left off one layer. But, Council Point Park was windy and chilly, so I just walked faster to get warmed up.  I doled out peanuts on the fly, without lingering for a visit, leaving the  squirrels running behind me like crazy to keep up.

Spring has not yet arrived at Council Point Park, though the grass seems a tad greener than the last time I was here … must’ve been all that recent rain. But, along my route to the Park, Spring is definitely in the air.  Yesterday’s humid and rainy conditions brought out the worms and the hungry robins who plucked them right out of the ground with their sharp yellow beaks.  As to color, I saw some yellow cold-weather pansies, snowdrops and crocuses, and the waxy leaves for the tulips and daffodils are about five inches high already.

I had very good intentions of walking on Saturday morning, and, before I laced up my walking shoes, and put on my coat and hat, I stuck my arm out the door first, as it was a mighty gray and gloomy-looking morning. Nope – not a drop of precip, so out I went.  I thought I’d take the car for a spin first.  I unhooked it from the battery helper, put the cords away and pulled the car out.  It was idling in the driveway, then … “well look, here comes the rain!”  Soon there were splatters all over the windshield, so I grumbled a bit, no  … make that a lot, then pulled the car back into the garage, and hooked it all up again.  By the time I finished with that business, it was a steady downpour.

Well, I could have just stayed inside where it was warm and dry, not drizzly and drippy.

I didn’t try that exercise again on Sunday – in fact, I stayed in the house all day and continued the big Spring cleaning project which I began in the heart of Winter.

Plus, it was time to tackle learning the new smartphone at the same time, so might as well kill two birds with one stone.

You’ve probably heard the expression uttered by the sexy and defiant Johnny Castle, Patrick Swayze’s character in the movie “Dirty Dancing”: “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!”  Well, I spent most of my rainy weekend in one room, in the corner, and no – I wasn’t wearing a dunce cap either.

As to the big cleaning project over last weekend, Saturday early morning, I pre-treated spots and shampooed the wall-to-wall carpeting and the braided rugs in the kitchen. I left the back bedrooms untouched, as the carpeting really didn’t need cleaning.  Then, I went outside for my ill-fated drive and walk.  So, because I was back much more quickly than anticipated, I had to hang out in the basement for a short time while the carpeting dried a bit.  Looking at the mess and disorganization down there turned my stomach, so, I came upstairs, treading lightly as I walked down the hall.

I had already grabbed the smartphone and its box so as to settle into a room, in the corner, and improve my learning curve while the carpeting and rugs dried … up to that point, I only knew how to turn it on and make a call if needed.

Well, first things first … before I used my brain, I needed a snack. After all, the challenge was daunting – was I up to the task? Best fortify myself with nourishment first.

Then I had to guzzle some more of the dozen or so glasses of water I now chug down a day.

I really knew I was delaying fiddling with the phone, when I decided to shampoo the entire carpeting and rugs a second time … for good measure.

Finally, that chore done, first, I had to charge the phone, then read, read, read. I pulled out the phone package – inside was a handy guide which I set aside, and no fewer than three booklets on loading your Go Phone.  Well, I’ve gone that non-contract phone route for years, so I set those aside.  Next, out came the handy guide (which was not so handy) … a diagram mostly and a quick list of how-tos.

So where’s the rest of the info on understanding the phone … oh wait, all I got was that little fold-out guide?

This was going to be a long day.

There was a litany of lingo to learn … like how to interact with the phone. Talk about letting your fingers do the walking!  There was swiping left or right, then tapping and double-tapping, dragging and pinching.

What did I get myself into?

Perhaps I should have stuck with the flip phone?

First, there were some “swiping issues” … Deena, the kindly manager at the AT&T store said to bring the phone to life, after turning the power button on, by swiping my fingers across the screen.

I did a feather-light sweep of my fingers, more like dismissing something, or someone, … not enough swiping action apparently, as nothing happened.

I pressed harder … to the left … to the right … nope, dead as a doornail, even though the phone was already 3/4s charged.

Finally, I waved my hand the correct “magical way” and there was a sign of life from the device.

Well, whew!

Next to plug in a few phone numbers, from a handwritten list I had jotted down.

Not wanting to bother anyone, I tried just calling my own landline … big mistake as I had not yet located the icon to hang up and thus stop the call. The phone rang incessantly yonder in the kitchen, and I, not wanting to tread across the damp and still slightly soapy carpet, had to listen to it until … hurrah … the red hang up icon appeared and I jabbed it hard with my finger.

I already had a colossal headache.

Well, I then knew how to dial and hang up a smartphone.

Next, I decided to put in my contacts because how difficult could that be anyway?

Well, I opened up the first contact and decided to make it my friend and neighbor Marge. I know you are supposed to be all thumbs when it comes to texting, but my fingers could not hit those dinky little letters and her name did not in the least resemble the moniker of “Marge” … so, I decided to return to that part later, and I piddled around some more and miraculously got the home number in, which was a little silly really, since I have had that number committed to memory since the early 1990s when she and her husband moved next door.  I saved that contact thinking “of course I’ll remember that NZ stands for Marge – surely I will.”

Next, I was inputting Marge’s cellphone number, which I don’t know from memory. Well, this time the cursor skipped right down to the number so I plugged in the number, tried to return back to the name field, and dialed her by accident.  I never call her from my cellphone, since I rarely use the cellphone, so she answered, albeit a little reluctantly.  I was so taken aback, I hung up the phone.  (Thank God for that little red phone hang up icon!)

Well, I knew I had to speed up the learning process and exhibit more telephone courtesies than I had thus far, so I tried again to edit the contact, and pushed or jabbed too hard and irritated the phone which zoned out and soon I had a black screen. Well, what the ….?

Irritated, I started a new contact, trying valiantly to input letters which ended up like gobbledy-gook, and that happened a total of 23 times … and no, I don’t have long fingernails.

Finally, I got one complete contact in for Marge and by accident I called her again … she thought I was a random caller, and probably was ready to give me a piece of her mind, when I, who recognized her voice, said “no wait … it’s me!” “Linda?” she responded. So, we had a nice chat for about 3/4s of an hour.

Next, I tackled my boss Robb as a contact … also dumb of me to waste my time on this, as I memorized his cell and home numbers nearly 17 years ago when we first began working together. I even added the office number – heck, I worked there … but, I was being thorough in case of an emergency, so that I had at least inputted my “ICE” info.  I got in all three numbers on one contact – yeah for me, except after saving that contact, my fingers obviously zigged when I should have zagged, and I phoned Robb by accident.  He didn’t answer, so quick like a bunny, I hit the hang up icon.

Must. Be. More. Careful. People. Will. Lose. Patience. With. Me.

Two minutes later I get an incoming call. Well, geez … I hadn’t gotten that far on how to answer an incoming call.  I scrambled around, jabbing my finger all over the shiny screen, found the green receiver icon and said “hi” and he said “what’s up – you okay?”  I said “yes, I sequestered myself in the back of the house to wait for the carpet and rugs to dry and I’m trying out the new phone” and he said “want to practice with me?”  I thanked him and said that was okay and I was ready for a break at that point and didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Well, I took five, and stepped down the hall with plastic bags over my feet to get another snack, before sliding back into my stool in the corner of the room, to attempt to learn texting. Well, that would be fun since I’d never done that, except at the computer to people’s cellphones.

I used Marge as a guinea pig and it took twenty minutes to get a simple message to her. I was getting a little fed up.

Frustrated, I finally turned the phone off and the carpet was dry, so I wandered out to the kitchen and to the computer and decided to search online for a manual, which should have come with the phone. I found a 51-page manual which was similar, but I needed my model (AT&T Alcatel Ideal) … how difficult could it be?  It was the simplest smartphone they had at the store.  I found a match … the manual was 80 pages long.  Way too much information than I needed.  I scrolled through, page after page after page, and finally decided … I needed to know just the basics … kind of like when Dragnet’s Sergeant Joe Friday said: “just the facts, ma’am.”

That manual WAS a treasure trove of information, including how to delete things, so the errant contacts were the first things to go, and, I found out how to add contacts an easier way – by flipping the phone sideways – everything was bigger. Why didn’t I think of it and why wasn’t that in the handy-dandy guide?

I put in a few more contacts, and, for the heck of it, texted my friend Evelyn who lives in Richmond, Virginia. I often text her from the computer and her fingers move so quickly when texting, she can match me for keyboard speed.

She texted me right back, and before long, we had generated a thread of 25 messages, and by then, my thumbs were in sync with the keyboard, plus I started relying on bigger words thanks to the auto-complete. A half-hour later Evelyn sent me a message “Atta girl” with a graduation cap emoji.  I wrote back “not before I send this thumbs up emoji” … then, all boastful and such, I took a picture and texted it, and Evelyn replied “you won’t be able to turn that phone loose now!”  “No way” was my reply and I stated emphatically that I was done for the night.  The carpet and rugs were bone dry, so my smartphone education was over for the present time.

Sunday, I scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor, and, once again was sequestered from the hub bub of the house. I took to improving my learning curve on the smartphone once again – you know … just in case I might have forgotten something from Saturday.  Admittedly, I was happy with my progress to date, and even wondered aloud – “why am I fiddling with this again … could it be that I’m addicted to the texting like Evelyn said?”  No, I decided that this was not the case at all, but, instead I needed to verify that you CAN teach an old dog new tricks.

Even before I took Professor John Azar’s philosophy class at Henry Ford Community College in the mid-70s, I had heard, (and maybe even pondered over), the expression:

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Well, people have been contemplating, and/or debating, that conundrum for years, just as they have hashed out the heady notion of whether the chicken or the egg appeared first.

So, whether or not a tree falls soundlessly, its absence indeed makes a noticeable difference, once it is no longer standing tall and regal, but instead, is slumped over onto a grassy slope and half submerged in the murky Ecorse Creek. All that remains now, are remnants of that trunk, bare, with jagged edges and a fresh wood scent.

You might recall my blog post back on February 26^th , wherein I described walking past a tree at Council Point Park, and hearing some large branches rubbing together, and making a creepy, creaking noise.  It was a little eerie sounding, and I hurried on past, lest that tree should crash down across the pathway.

Well, jump ahead a few weeks later, to when I was enjoying my Sunday stroll on March 19^th.

Last Sunday, I took the above pictures of that tree, that had no doubt cracked and fell as a result of those wild winds we had on March 8^th.   But, these pictures really don’t show the extent of the damage … a tall tree, just snapped off like a toothpick, its long-dead branches crowding into the existing trees and parts pointing toward the water.

It was a little sad to see to see the destruction, and, I recalled the earlier walk, and recoiling just a little, when I heard the creaking noises, knowing full well that no good would come to that tree. The proof is seen in the above photos.

I returned to Council Point Park again this morning.

Once again, today dawned cold, but clear, and since the sun was shining, I scooted out the door earlier to get to that destination. I have to bulk up on the miles since rain is in the long-range forecast nearly every day over the next week.  Yesterday was designated as an errand day since my boss was out of the office, and, the time expended on these tasks, helps preserves the weekend for this big cleaning project I have been endeavoring to complete – soon I hope.  But, since I hated to give up the walking, I strapped on the pedometer to count my steps at Meijer, managing to glean a couple of miles from walking the perimeter of the store a few times.  Then, I had the obligatory stop at the service counter to deal with my cellphone faux pas I wrote about last week.

I was actually getting a bit antsy as I saw my walking miles and car mileage “nearly neck-in-neck. So … Must. Walk. More!!!

The sky was bright blue, flawless except for some contrails, which crisscrossed the sky looking like hashtags, or, as if someone upstairs was playing “Xs” and “Os”.

I had a package of peanuts and some of my favorite “followers” were around to partake in them. I told my little pals that there was no time to linger, and no photo ops this morning, as I was just getting my walk in and had to get on home.

I got one entire loop walked and headed for home, happy to have spent some treasured “me time” out enjoying nature.

A cup of dark roast coffee usually clears my brain fog every morning, but, when it comes to the fog in the ‘hood … well, I have to depend on Mother Nature to clear that away for me, and, sometimes she takes her good old sweet time.

When I first looked outside around 7:45 a.m., it was way too murky to head out. So, I was patiently biding my time, 9:00 a.m. being the latest I can leave to get in a decent walk and be home in time for work.

So, I piddled around with this and that.

First, I hung up the Easter wreath, which looked all perky and Spring-y looking in the dull and gray morn. I was reminded of my friend Marge’s recent comment on  my blog, after I mentioned how quickly the red or pink hearts and flowers and chubby cherubs from Valentine’s Day are whisked away to bring forth the St. Paddy’s Day décor to adorn our front doors.  Marge said “each new wreath on the door this time of year brings us closer to Spring and Summer.”

Our Spring weather, just like the dissipation of this morning’s fog, sure travels at its own pace … and that would be SLOW. I could feel that cold air seeping through the front screen door while I adjusted the wreath this way and that, and, the next few days are going to be even worse … downright cold and maybe a snow or sleety mix, at week’s end.  Oh well, we are, after all, barely one day into the official Spring season.

After the final adjustment to the wreath was made, out of the corner of my eye I saw a bright ray of sunshine poking through the clouds. That sunbeam momentarily lit up the sky, so I figured the murkiness would soon disappear.

I got myself ready to go in record time and headed out. I soon realized, that while it was fairly clear for the distance of about one block, the visibility was not so great beyond that.  Even the spires on two nearby churches were cloaked in fog, and trees in the distance looked like thick dark figures in the mist as I walked past Ford Park.  There were pendulous drops of water hanging off wind chimes, awnings and vehicles as I passed homes on each city street.

I walked to the footbridge where the ice had finally melted, but beyond that point, I could see the fog would be worse the closer I got to the River, so I paused a few minutes then turned around to come home. In the Creek, at least a dozen mallards were paddling along paying no mind to the fog.

In fact, most of the ducks were paired up, swimming along amiably, the beautifully colored drakes and their blah-colored mates. At least I assumed it was their mates, since the mallards generally paddle along in pairs, unless they are off eating or preening themselves.

My friend Ann Marie tells me that it must be near mating season for the Canada Geese since she sees them chasing after one another every day around the pond near her apartment building. It was rather comical last week, as their pursuit of their mate (or potential mate), found them slip-slidin’ away on the icy surface of the pond.

Ahhh … young love.

A trending topic on Twitter earlier today touted “World Poetry Day” and nothing is synonymous with Spring more than Victorian poet Lord Alfred Tennyson’s line from the poem Locksley Hall: “In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.”

You know you’ve heard that line before … maybe in your high school English class?

The world is lighter and livelier in Springtime … if only it would get here.

Meanwhile, on the subject of love, around the world, several hundred thousand viewers have been spying on April the Giraffe, as she awaits the birth of her baby, courtesy of a web cam set up in close proximity to April’s living quarters. The proud papa is Oliver and he lives in a separate pen from April.  If you’ve not been to the Animal Adventure Park in Harpursville, New York site yet, or watched the story on “Click on Detroit”, you can take a peek at April at: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClnQCgFa9lCBL-KXZMOoO9Q/live

And, if you decide to be a voyeur and check out that video cam, you’ll discover that April and Oliver are occasionally making goo-goo eyes at one another across their enclosures. I peek in at least once a day.  April does nothing but eat, chewing her cud all day long, or simply staring into space.  There have been 246,000 video cam views as of this evening, and comments galore (4,000+).  One person suggested that April appears to be enjoying Bubblicious Bubble Gum every time she looks in.

Meanwhile, at the Zoo, there is a webpage devoted to April: http://www.aprilthegiraffe.com/

This will be the fourth calf for April, who is 15 years old, and, probably a little exasperated by now, since the originally predicted due date (and proclamation of “any minute now”) was February 22^nd.  The gestational period for giraffes is 15 months.

Some folks have set up a GoFundMe site for April, Oliver and the unborn calf and to help pay for expenses for their annual care and eventual upgrade to their enclosures, plus a permanent video cam set-up. Lest you scoff at that idea, I just checked and they’ve far exceeded their $50,000.00 goal, with a whopping total of $78,603.00 in funds raised to date.

And, just for kicks, there will be a baby-naming contest after the big birth event takes place.

I personally think that Mama Giraffe is holding out to next month to deliver that calf – it would be fitting to have April’s baby born in April, don’t you think?

Yup, we all need a little diversion in our lives … it beats the hum drum existence of these dregs of Winter and the political goings-on, which often leave us collectively shaking our heads.

It is Spring after all – so, it’s a time to be in love, and, if not – then at least be light-hearted!