WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Saturday was sooooo soggy and that wet weather put a kibosh on my walk.

Today was foggy, and even the dregs of the big ol’ harvest moon, did not make it light enough to leave as early as I would have liked. That ethereal setting and 100% humidity made it an easy decision to walk at Meijer this morning.

The first thing I noticed as I walked into the grocery store, was all the school supplies have been pushed aside and the harvest décor, Halloween candy and costumes have been hauled out.

Meijer was hopping this morning since they had some good sales, and I soon found myself weaving in and out amongst the shoppers, to try to get my desired laps in, and it got more difficult as time wore on.

The cider looked inviting, as did the peanut-coated caramel apples, and I spied something new – gourmet chewing gum, flavored like Fall food offerings … caramel apples and kettle corn. If you were thinking Summery thoughts, there was even gum by the name of “Front Porch Lemonade”, something that we could certainly be downing today.

Seeing those seasonal and unique flavors of chewing gum, made me think of the Teaberry, Clove and Black Jack chewing gum I used to enjoy years ago. That gum always arrived in special displays right around Halloween. I was never allowed to chew gum when I was growing up, but, when I got older, and my allowance was larger, I remember loading up on my favorite of the trio, Black Jack, with its unique, licorice-flavored black gum sticks.  Of course, I couldn’t pull one over on my mom who knew right away I had been chewing it, since my mouth reeked of anise flavoring and my tongue would be all black.  She would admonish me by saying “ladies don’t chew dark-colored gum because it looks uncouth … chew Chiclets instead!”

I did some shopping while at Meijer, as I’ve been loading in pantry items for the long Winter ahead, though it sure doesn’t feel much like Fall or Winter out there today. When I came out of the store, it was downright hot.

So, here we are, on this last weekend of Summer. In my recent treks down Emmons Boulevard, I’ve noticed so many pots and hanging baskets are now bedraggled-looking with shrivelled-up blooms, courtesy of the drought-like conditions which prevailed week after week earlier in the Summer.  But , so many of the Boulevard’s houses that rely on sprinkler systems or daily hand watering, still have  blooms, as pictured above, that have weathered the heat and are clearly not ready to yield to the jewel-toned chrysanthamums that are already gracing our local nurseries.

On this sweltering hot day, in the midst of a torrential rainstorm that just popped up, it seems hard to believe Harvest and Halloween are the next events as we soon usher in Autumn.

It was another coolish morning and it’s sure starting to feel more seasonal and hard to believe that as of today, September is half over already.

On this second full week of school, the dread of returning to the grind, and the anticipation of showing off that cool lunchbox to your friends or wearing all those new duds has quickly worn off.  School “daze” has now settled into school days and the rigor and ritual of school has become old news.

Yesterday, when I was on my walk, I watched a little boy dash out of the house, backpack strapped on, as he headed for the car which was purring gently in the driveway awaiting his arrival. But he made a pit stop first, as he scuffed through the wet grass and his dog jumped up on him … twice.  His mom called out the window “don’t get dirty today of all days!”

Right away I assumed it was probably the annual “school picture day” as he was in dress pants and a nice shirt. That made me think way back about my own school photos over the years.  I remembered I had some of those old school pictures digitized, so I dug up this one from fifty years ago.  Talk about Throwback Thursday!  This was my sixth grade school photo, taken in 1966, the year we moved here to the States.  My pals on Facebook and I had a lively discussion and shared some laughs about this photo, because we all remembered wearing a velveteen bowed hairband or those awful cat eye glasses.  At least my furry little mink dog pin was cute and I still have it after all these years.

I’ve been people watching during my treks through the neighborhoods.   I don’t see as many  kids walking to school anymore, so I figure they either have their own wheels or get a ride with mom or dad.  But, the ones that I see walking with their buddies sure don’t remind me of us middle and high school students back in the late 60s and 70s, respectively.

No, everything is all different now … from the clothing, to the backpacks used instead of carrying books in the crook of your arm. And now kids walk along, their heads bowed and shoulders hunched over their phones while reviewing texts or checking social media.  They are moving as a group, but barely communicating with one another.  I couldn’t help but think about my high school days back in the 70s when I made that daily morning trek to school.  This was long before social media of course, and the entire time while my close girlfriends and I were walking, we were talking.  In fact, our mouths were going a mile a minute about the minutiae in our lives, sharing nearly every detail since we parted ways or last spoke on the telephone .

But, that was then – this is now.

So, I was kind of feeling my age … that is, until I saw a much younger girl walking alone, dressed in a short, flippy skirt and wearing knee socks. I thought – well maybe there is a common denominator after all …that would be knee socks.

But, a quick glance at the young girl told me these were no ordinary knee socks like I used to wear way back when. This girl was wearing knee socks that continued above the knees!  Huh?  Something to keep your thighs warm while wearing that short skirt when there is a chill in the air?

Well, I really was feeling old pondering that style.

Knee socks and loafers … now that was a real fashion statement when I was growing up. It was important to color coordinate your knee-high socks to your “poor-boy sweater”, that style of pullover sweater so popular with girls and stylish young women in the 60s.  Poor-boy pullovers were a stretchy ribbed material, with short sleeves that nearly touched the elbows.  They fit like they belonged to your younger sister quite frankly but were a must-have in all colors.  They coordinated nicely with wool plaid skirts and hounds tooth check jumpers (like I was wearing above) plus those matching knee-socks completed the look.

So, that was our back-to-school style a half-century ago (now I am feeling really old).

I’m enjoying that crisp feel when I first set out on my walk, despite feeling a little warmer on the return trip once the sun gently filters through the clouds. I’m savoring these trips because I know Summer is on the wane and Fall officially arrives one week from today.

My boss was out most of the day, and the perfect weather, and his absence, was an excellent opportunity to go for a longer-than-usual trek.

So, while he wended his way back from the family cabin in Wiarton, Ontario, I headed down Emmons Boulevard, passing through Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, until I reached my destination – the River’s Edge Marina in Ecorse.

At first, I almost wished I’d brought along a sweater for that cool air, but, as I ambled along, I picked up my pace a little, and was more comfortable.

The sun is now rising up one minute later every day, so the cooler mornings soon will become the new normal.

I saw my first scarecrow today, and, no, it wasn’t from looking in the mirror when I first got up. It was part of a harvest display, with mini bales of hay and gourds as well.  ‘Tis the season I guess, and it goes fine with the cooler weather.  Next, I passed a house that had swapped its “Trump – Make America Great Again” sign for some rather ghoulish and ghastly creatures as they were the first house on the Boulevard sporting Halloween decorations.

There were a few more firsts to tell you about …

Finally, after months of gazing into the barren-looking Ecorse Creek below the footbridge, a mallard duck appeared. It was a female, and, with her drab and mousy-looking plumage, she blended right into the muddy-colored waters.  But, there she was, nibbling on reeds and enjoying having the entire cove to herself.

Like the Energizer Bunny, I kept going and going, enjoying the cool breeze and the warm sun. I crossed the railroad tracks and headed for the marina.

The marina was a bit desolate, as no one was in the dock areas … humans that is.

At first it seemed this picturesque area was devoid of birds as well, but then this bird pictured above caught my eye. He glided through the air, then landed on a chain link fence and sat still, just like a statue, for the longest time.  I drew the camera slowly out of its case, so I wouldn’t spook him.  He just sat there watching me warily.  I took a few pictures of him at the fence, then all too quickly, he took a notion to skedaddle and spread his wings and took off for parts unknown.  I thought he was gone for good, so I returned the camera to its case, and then suddenly he flew up over the marina a second time for another bird’s eye view I suppose.  This time my eyes followed him ‘til he settled over by the reeds.  I don’t know what type of bird it is –perhaps a baby crane?  Note how long the beak is, and the extremely long legs and big feet – really big feet!

With feet like that you can really go places, although my feet, encased in their heavy walking shoes trod 4 ½ miles today.

Whether it was a bird’s-eye view or at ground level … it was a beautiful day wherever you were.

What a difference a day makes, after a hot, humid and soggy Saturday, today’s weather was a breath of fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when I headed out in the brilliant sunshine and I took my camera along in case anything interesting crossed my path.

What a difference a day makes … history-wise as well.

We will never forget the events that transpired fifteen years ago today, because the images are ingrained in our minds forever.

I recall that the day began bright and sunny, much like today, only it was very warm.

I was at work and watched the events unfold in disbelief with my co-workers, as we gathered around the television in the conference room. But, once I arrived home, we had to listen to the day’s events and aftermath on the radio, since our home was being painted and wallpapered throughout and the TV was not accessible, as it was tucked away until the job was over.  So, we relied on the descriptions provided by the radio news media and caught up with those  images of fire, smoke, ash and anguished faces that accompanied the newspaper stories the following day.

Earlier today, I hopped onto Twitter to see what remembrances were trending and found #Remembering 911 and #neverforget. I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon looking at photos and reading some stories about that fateful day, like this longish article about one of the 200 people who jumped from the Twin Towers on 9/11, and the photographer, Richard Drew, who memorialized his fall.  It was both interesting and sad; I didn’t remember the facts of that story as it was told here:  http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/a48031/the-falling-man-tom-junod/

Recalling that poignant day makes us want to hug our family members and hold them close.

In that vein, today is National Grandparents Day, so do something grand and reach out to your grandparents if you are lucky enough to do so. If they are no longer here, just close your eyes and choose a special memory about them on this day when our hearts choose to remember simpler times, before September 11, 2001 changed our lives forever.

This angel adorns a yard that I pass while on my daily walk – I thought it was perfect to use for today’s post.

Yesterday, the weather folks predicted fog for Friday early a.m., and I thought “well, the fog is usually never that bad in my neck of the woods so I won’t worry about it”, despite the fact that I had a list of errands I hoped to accomplish, after taking a long walk, since my boss was out of the office all day today.

Well, their prognostications were right on the money, because when I peered through the peephole prior to setting out on my walk, the street was cloaked in fog. When it cleared somewhat, I set out on foot, determined that my walk would not be missed due to a little mist.

But, walking past Ford Park was a little eerie – the tall, dark and hulking trees seemed to rise up in the misty morn as you could not see the base of their trunks. The fog gave me an uneasy feeling, so I did an abbreviated walk, then hurried home to get the car, not that I was looking forward to driving in that pea soup, but I had an appointment to keep.

I was scheduled to be at the car dealership regarding a recall that issued way back in November 2014, but … first, there was no “fix”, then the “fix” was found, then soon thereafter, the parts were flying off the storeroom shelves as everyone rushed to get the recall issue fixed. Finally, they have a good supply of them so I made an appointment.

I wasn’t too worried about the running lights problem, since I rarely, if ever, drive in the dark. The recall was to fix those running lights that sometimes failed, easily fixable by replacing the fuse.  The entire procedure took longer to write-up and print out, then to replace the fuse, which didn’t even require moving the car out of the service intake area.

Of course, I had to regale the Service Department guys with the tale of my Buick Regal, and how its mushy horn pad caused me to pull the horn fuse from the fuse box every single time I was not actually driving the car. I had a huge cardboard sign that said “FUSE!!!”, which I left on the passenger seat so I would not forget, lest I be shopping and hear the horn honking madly out in the parking lot.

It happened several times – at the mall, or, sometimes in the middle of the day, or night, out in the garage, all by itself.

So, that was my hack – my “go-around” to resolve the issue, and it worked well for many years. The fuse box was located in the car’s glove box, and, the horn fuse was very tiny and my long nails and/or the fuse puller caused me to sometimes drop the fuse on the floor, where it quickly embedded itself under the carpet, or it would disappear  into a dark area below one of the front seats.  I always had to have a canister of extra horn fuses handy, just in case my fingers weren’t so nimble, like on an icy cold day.

Finally, a friend of the family suggested I try a local mechanic and see if they could provide a simpler solution – they did, and affixed a button onto the area where you’d normally honk the horn. I prayed that I never got into a situation and got flustered and forgot where that tiny button was.

Of course, the service guys also had a laugh about the low mileage (3,677 miles) for my car which I bought new from that dealership in September 2009.

By the time we were done with the new fuse and paperwork dispensed, I drove off with a wave, and mercifully the fog had disappeared. One by one I ticked off the items on my list as I stopped here, there and everywhere, before finally arriving home.  I was happy to scurry into the house, worn out from the stifling heat and humidity that made me feel as though I would wilt, but happy to have gotten everything done in one fell swoop.

I leave you with this quote …

“Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

[Image by Mario Schultz on Pixabay]

Whew!! For the second morning in a row, it felt a mite tropical out there, and, there really was no joy in going out for the morning trek, just for the sake of getting it done.

When I left the house this morning, it was 76 degrees, with a humidity reading of nearly 100 percent.

Today is the second day of school, and the traffic was much busier than yesterday, as I suspect many of the schools just had a half day Monday. The big yellow busses were rolling down the street, leaving behind diesel fumes that could choke a horse – yup, the wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round as we settle into the September routine.

But, not all kids take the bus, so some parents, with their kids in tow, were still scurrying out of the house to jump in the vehicle to get on the road, with everyone still in “Summer mode” and the morning regimen not quite meshing yet. This means that I must pay special attention to frantic parents, trying to get their young ones to school before the school bell rings, and themselves to the workplace timely.  I am constantly perusing the driveways that are ahead of me, for cars that might back out on a dime … many times I know the drivers do not see me coming and they are buckling up, looking back over their shoulder at their kids, sipping coffee, checking their phone … believe me … swiveling their head to the left just doesn’t happen all the time.  Then, after they notice me, I get the sheepish look and a mouth formed in a perfect “O”, like “Oh my gosh – I never even saw you!”

I heard that the Detroit school system dismissed some students mid-day due to the heat in the classroom. I know that back in my days at Huff Junior High School, and even Lincoln Park High School, we had no amenities like A/C, or even fans, and, I clearly remember suffering through a few wicked hot June days when the temps soared and we were in an old classroom that felt like a sauna.  If we were lucky, depending on where our last name fell in the alphabet, especially if there was assigned seating, we kids would hope for a desk close by the window to at least get a breeze.  We had a dress code at Huff Junior High – no pants for girls, but minis were the style, so at least, as to the girls anyway, our legs weren’t too awfully hot.  At the high school, the dress code was “anything goes”, but we did not get to wear shorts and tee-shirts back in the early 70s.

Hopefully a cooling trend is on the way …

[Image by Kaz on Pixabay]

How did we get so lucky to have three perfect weather days in a row on a holiday weekend? It is rare, and, I guess it is our compensation for enduring such a hot and steamy Summer.  I wish this perfect coolish weather was here to stay, but it appears the heat and humidity are waiting in the wings.

For many folks, Labor Day is the death knell to that long respite from school or work, then it is back to the grindstone tomorrow … for others, like me, it was just an extra day to enjoy and a shorter work week to boot, though it will take me most of the week to remember what day it really is.

Did you work or relax on this day to honor workers? I enjoyed a few extra ZZZZZs, then got out the door before it got too warm, and my longish walk added some more miles to my eventual total.

Do you wish we could roll back the calendar and it was the Independence Day holiday instead of Labor Day, the unofficial end to Summer?  I do, because, as much as I groused about the heat and humidity, I am no fan of snow and ice. If only we could turn the calendar pages back, but that is obviously not doable, no matter how much you’d like that to happen.

The other day was a milestone for my 500 miles walked and today is yet another milestone – 800 blog posts to date since I began this labor of love, a/k/a “Walkin’, Writin’, Wit & Whimsy” … time flies, as do my fingers sometimes, and, I continue to marvel that my mind holds such a treasure trove of memories and that I’m able to recall so many of them and spin them into blog posts. Who knew I had so much to say?

Enjoy what precious time remains in this long holiday weekend … soon the sun will set and we may pause to reflect on the season’s greatest moments and look toward the remaining months left in 2016.

Happy Labor Day!

[Image by Tumisu on Pixabay]

Since early Spring I’ve been teasing you with tidbits about the beautiful barn swallows that inhabit the Ecorse Creek by the footbridge.

For months, nearly every day when I’d pass by, they would be dipping and gliding around the dense brush or reeds, or flitting from tree to tree all along the Creek banks. I made it my mission that I would capture a still shot of at least one of them before Summer’s end.  They seemingly never stand still in their relentless search for insects.

But, just like the waterfowl that have gone missing, the past few weeks the barn swallows have been absent as well. So, I have dug up my photos taken through the course of the Spring and Summer and picked the best of the bunch, albeit a bit blurry, for today’s blog post.

When I first encountered these pretty indigo-blue birds, with their peachy-colored bellies and long scissor-like tails, it was because they frequently dive bombed me as I paused on the footbridge to glance out over the water.   After all, this was their domain – the place where a flock of swallows would relentlessly fly in every direction, hoping to scope out, and then grab, flying insects to feed on.  I spent a lot of time watching them as they’d nab their prey, then momentarily return to a tree branch to eat that insect, before going out foraging for food once again.

I have probably whiled away two or three hours altogether, just watching, and waiting, for the perfect photo op, but … alas, they are much too quick for me, that is, until I had the good luck to capture the antics of one who strayed from the rest, and took a breather all by himself, thus the two photos above.

I knew they were swallows from the get-go, but I wasn’t sure the exact type of swallow until I Googled “images of swallows”. Of course, had I not been so lazy, I would have gone downstairs, and, at the very bottom of my desk drawer, I would have located my “Audubon Land Bird Guide”, the first hard-cover book I ever owned.  It has an orangey-red and white dust jacket with illustrations of various native birds.  The cover has become tattered and taken on an almost vintage-look through the years and the pages have similarly developed a yellowish tinge.  There are still pieces of loose-leaf paper, torn in raggedy strips, that were used as markers for various birds I came upon and viewed with my binoculars, back when I was a young “birder”.

So, now I wonder where these little beauties have disappeared to, because, they did delight me with their energy and delicate, almost tinny, birdcalls. If you want to see a sharper image of them, or listen to their birdsong, here is a link to do so:  https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Barn_Swallow/sounds

When I took a tour along the California coastline back in the Fall of 1980, one of the tourist attractions we visited was the Mission San Juan Capistrano. It was a very old stone mission, made famous not only by its history and architecture, as well as its beautiful grounds, but, also because every March 19^th, St. Joseph’s Day, the swallows return en masse to the Mission.  The arrival of the swallows like clockwork encourages visitors from around the world to congregate there on that very day to witness the miracle.  The swallows then build their nests right onto the cracks and crevices of the Mission walls and raise their young until all take flight again on October 23^rd, an event known as the “Day of San Juan”.   I visited there in mid-October and saw many of the swallows that were nesting there and flying about, but I think the en masse arrival or departure would be a sight to behold, and, I wish I could have witnessed it.

Although I have been patient while hoping to get the perfect photo of the Ecorse Creek swallows, today I decided that the barn swallows at the borderline of Lincoln Park and Wyandotte have found another venue to delight onlookers. So, just like the faithful who annually gather at the Mission San Juan Capistrano, I will look for these beautiful winged creatures again next year.

It is awesome to behold Nature’s wonderment, though sometimes it is but a fleeting moment in time.

Today’s trip down Emmons Boulevard and one lap around Memorial Park netted five miles. It was such a beautiful day, and, there will be a third beautiful day tomorrow to conclude this Labor Day holiday weekend.

It was an equally beautiful weather day at the Vatican where Mother Teresa was canonized by Pope Francis today. For years, when I generated a daily “Thought for Today” for friends and co-workers, I often included many of her profound quotations … below is one I especially liked:

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” ~ Saint Teresa of Calcutta

The weather folks have been predicting perfect weather all holiday weekend, and they, as well as Mother Nature, didn’t disappoint.

I decided to take advantage of the cool weather and trek down to Ecorse to the River’s Edge Marina, as I hadn’t been there in a while.

I shut the door and headed out and all the neighborhoods were quiet. No joggers, bikers or dog walkers, and, more than once, I wondered why I was the only one out on a such a beautiful morning?

But, along the way, someone was up and at ‘em, in their kitchen cooking bacon, and, the delicious smells wafted out and I inhaled deeply. Momentarily, I was reminded of my mom, who had loved beefsteak tomatoes, and this time of year when the big ones could be bought at the farm markets and vendors out in the country, we’d be eating a lot of BLTs – suddenly I found myself hankering for one.

Once I arrived at the railroad crossing and there were no trains were in sight, I hustled across the multiple sets of tracks and continued on my journey to the foot of Emmons Boulevard and Biddle Avenue, where the sun was glinting on the sparkling Detroit River. I shaded my eyes with my hand and gazed toward the horizon and soon noticed there was not a single pleasure boat in sight!  Hmmmmm.  The sky was a perfect shade of blue and puffy, fluffy-looking clouds drifted by lazily, and, as usual, down by the water and near the marina, the seagulls swooped and dived.  They had to fend for themselves since nobody was at the marina yet, so food pickin’s, obtained by permission or otherwise, were mighty slim.  It was odd seeing all the boats in their respective slips on such a beautiful morning, and, even more unusual that the Ecorse Rowing Club members were not climbing into their shell at the wide wooden dock.

Perhaps all the lack of activity was because it is a holiday weekend?

I was sure that I’d satisfy my “duck fix” in the cove of the marina, and there would be a photo op for sure, even though I’d not bought any bread tidbits to lure them closer to me. But my feathered friends were conspicuously absent from this little haven, just as they have been near the footbridge this season.  I hope they have not met their fate, like the mallards who perished in Trenton’s Marsh Creek due to botulism from low water levels from the drought-like conditions earlier this Summer.

But … who are these fine mallard specimens pictured above you may ask?

My friend and neighbor, Marge Aubin, listened to my frequent laments about the absence of ducks this year and told me I should have stuck to the neighborhood … Mr. and Mrs. Duck, pictured above, were strolling around the front of a house a couple of blocks over as she was driving by. Marge backed the car up, and quickly dug in her purse for her camera to snap their pictures, then e-mailed them to me later.

Before I left the picturesque marina, I walked over to visit the poignant memorial dedicated to a young motorcyclist who lost his life, one early August morn, on that sharp curve just before the concrete bridge that overlooks the marina. There is a large memorial dedicated to Josh Sucharski, and candles and wreaths remain along the guardrail, the actual site of the crash.  There must be hundreds of heartfelt wishes made in his memory, all written in black magic marker, along the length of that silver metal guardrail.  A small wire bucket, filled with black Sharpie magic markers, remains at the site for those who will still come to pay their respects and honor the memory of Josh by penning a farewell message to him.

My return trip home was equally as quiet … strangely, still not a soul out and about. Perhaps everyone was simply enjoying the cool breezes filtering into the house.  Finally, the incessant hum of air conditioners has been silenced and a wisp of wind stirred delicate sheers at open windows.  Of course, there were many more hours left in the day to bask in the picture-perfect weather.

As I now strive to reach my goal for yearend miles, today’s extra-long walk will help get me closer to that goal. I realize that the days are getting shorter and I have less time to get my usual daily three to four miles accomplished before I start work.  Unless we are blessed with a warm Winter again, I’m thinking eight to ten weeks at the most can be counted on for a daily, snowless, slip-free trek … then, who knows what Mother Nature has up her sleeve?

I leave you with this quote …

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead. ~ Louisa May Alcott

I actually surprised myself by reaching my 500-miles-walked goal a few days early. At the beginning of the year,  I set that milestone marker for myself to hopefully happen on Labor Day.

I guess it helped that we had weeks and weeks without a raindrop in sight and I could venture out without fear of getting soaked with a passing shower during that morning trek.

In retrospect, I might have achieved 500 miles earlier, had I not been hampered by the ever-present heat and humidity, not to mention being hobbled by blisters and bandages on both ankles and my feet, for most of August, and even now in this first week of September.

You may recall that I wrote a post three weeks ago about the mysterious dots on my legs and a large blister. Two of those peculiar-looking dots, which I referred to as insect love bites, got infected and ended up as huge blisters.  I had to go to the doctor, and, they confirmed it was infected bug bites, but, to make matters worse, while valiantly trying to cover the ankle blisters until they broke on their own, the industrial-sized Band-Aids I used were made of latex and I developed a rash as a result of a latex allergy.

It hasn’t been much fun these past three weeks, but, I was bound and determined to keep walking the walk, and so I did.

For me, this 500-mile goal today marks a special anniversary. In 2011, I took my first steps of a walking regimen on the Friday before Labor Day, which coincidentally was also Friday, September 2^nd.  I was determined to get out and get more exercise and get the ol’ ticker revved up, since working from home was just not giving me enough exercise.

So … a new hobby and fitness routine was born on September 2, 2011.

I’d say it was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done for myself … and my heart.

The initial trek was just one long block, partly because it was a hot and sticky day, plus I didn’t want to overdo it and risk shin splints. Then, I increased my walking steps each day, adding more streets and entire blocks along the way.  That Winter of 2011 was mild, much like our last Winter, so, I was able to walk most of the season and was pretty proud of myself for that daily journey to the footbridge and back.

On Labor Day 2015, having heard that the Governor accomplished the five-mile annual walk across the Big Mac Bridge in under an hour, I decided that I, too, would accomplish a five-mile trip in 59 minutes by Labor Day 2016. But, I must be a slowpoke, as I cannot even come close to that feat with my feet.

Oh well, I am grateful for the miles walked and the good health to do so.

Last year I walked 718 miles altogether, but, we had such a beautiful Fall and early Winter that I was able to walk more than usual.

Please enjoy the chalk artist’s drawings that I photographed during our local Dream Cruise and have a happy and safe holiday weekend everyone.