WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Feelin’ hot hot hot!

Memorial Day weekend is the gateway to Summer, so if you’re a hot-weather fan, today’s weather didn’t disappoint. Yesterday my favorite weatherman, Paul Gross, warned us to “get set to sweat” and Paul was 100% correct, since it feels like Summer has already arrived.

Well, I’m no fan of hot and humid weather and when I stepped out for my walk this morning, the temperature was already 70 degrees and the humidity was sky high. I’ve worn three different sets of clothing this week … cold, warm and hot-weather garb, plus I’ve gone from a jacket, to short-sleeves in just a few days.  That’s Michigan weather for you.  Over the course of the last week, I’ve had the heat on overnight and early morning and the A/C on merely twelve hours later.

There was a bit of a breeze, but it didn’t help much, so I ambled over to Emmons Boulevard to take advantage of the canopy of trees which line the street and provide some shade. It was “raining” those lightweight maple seeds that we used to call “helicopters” or “spinners” when we were kids, and the ever-present elm seed “dots” were still flying about and settling everywhere.

The traffic wasn’t bad at all, so I think a lot of folks played hooky and got an early start up North for their long holiday.

I suppose the Scripps Spelling Bee people would have been more original in their choice of words to describe this very warm morn – they’d have picked some long or complicated multi-syllable words, certainly more eloquent than the words sultry, sweltering, sizzling, stifling, scorching, steamy or sticky. Interestingly all these words begin with the letter “s”.

I’d probably forget the descriptions and just say “the heat is here folks – get used to it!”

Suffice it to say it was hot, hot, hot, but I still got four miles done and have now reached 250 miles walked so far in 2016.

It was another picture-perfect day, so I decided since my boss Robb was out this morning, I’d make it a picture-taking day. It was the first time to actually shed the coat and the last day for perfect weather since rain and storms are predicted off-and-on through Memorial Day.

When I am out and about, without a camera, I usually come upon the best photo ops, and, of course, since I was toting along the camera today, I really saw nothing spectacular. No cute critters, nothing offbeat or unusual … just Murphy’s Law, I guess.

But, I meandered along anyway, first stopping by the footbridge to look for the swallows that go dive bombing from the trees and perch along the footbridge railing all in a row. So, today, as I waited on them, they failed to show up.  Maybe next time they’ll set their alarm clock and I’ll get them to “say cheese” and pose for me.

I saw some Empress Wu Hostas that were already as big as an elephant’s ear – how can that be when he had slow flurries a mere fortnight ago?

I walked along the fringe of Council Point Park but I didn’t venture in as I wanted to go to Memorial Park. Yesterday, when taking the car for a spin, I saw rows of staked flags and I wanted to check them out.

So after trekking around the neighborhood, pausing here and there along the way, I finally made it to Memorial Park, which was still decked out with its parade paraphernalia. There were about fifty flags placed in and around the memorial and pavilion by the Exchange Club of Lincoln Park.  Unlike the “Healing Field” flag extravaganza, there are no service personnel names on the poles, just identical white poles and flags.  The grandstands had not been dismantled yet and the flags were snapping in the breeze, so I clicked away.

It was peaceful in the Park and I took a load off my feet and sat on a park bench awhile before I finally headed home, another four miles added to my total.

Friday was a fantabulous weather day – today, not so much.

I started out my trek this morning, by eyeing the sky and figuring I’d be lucky to get an entire walk in as it looked as if it would pour any minute.

Just like yesterday, I headed over to Memorial Park to see if “The Healing Field” flag display was there, and it was not. The event is usually sponsored by the Exchange Club of Lincoln Park, and is an impressive array of uniform rows of well over a hundred U.S. flags on eight-foot flagpoles; each one honors a fallen service man/woman or first responder. I just looked on the website http://www.healingfield.org/ and discovered Michigan’s tributes are only in Benton Harbor and Coldwater this year.

Our City’s Memorial Day parade is tomorrow, and, at Memorial Park, the grass had been freshly mowed, and all those dandelions lopped off so the grounds now look presentable. In the pavilion, there were two brand-new flags, still with their creases intact, hanging limply on their respective poles by the memorial that honors the City’s war dead since World War I.

I circled around Memorial Park once, then continued on my trek to the tracks. But I never even made it to the footbridge that separates Lincoln Park and Wyandotte before big raindrops splattered down on my coat.  I quickly changed direction and started for home, thinking, that if the rain stopped, I’d just walk in the neighborhood.

There were no walkers, with pooches or otherwise, on my route today – they were either sleeping in, or had eyeballed the sky, and stayed inside.

A few blocks from home I saw a sight that made me smile. Even if I had my camera handy, I would not have been able to capture a photo of the pair as they rolled by too quickly.  It was a woman perched on an oversized motorcycle and that bike was very wide, perhaps twice the size of a normal motorcycle.  Behind her, she had a companion – a friend who was not hanging on for dear life, or complaining about getting “helmet hair”, nor forgetting to lean with the bike at each turn.  Nope, it was a blonde-colored teddy bear that was easily the size of a small child and it was strapped onto the bike, behind the seat.  So, I guess you could say it was riding “bearback”.  Though the biker was dressed for riding, her friend was bear-naked … no leathers, boots or a helmet … not even a do-rag on this cutie pie.

I chuckled over this biker chick and bear, especially since I’ve collected teddy bears for years, so I have a special affinity for these cute and cuddly toys.

Today yielded a measly 2 ½ miles under my belt, before I gave it up and just came home to hibernate the rest of the day.

[Image from Johnny Automatic at openclipart.org]

Unfortunately, errands creep into the morning agenda sometimes, forcing me to stray off the beaten path to take care of business, usually along Fort Street. But, today I decided to sidetrack down a few streets in Southgate just to make it interesting.  I passed at least a half-dozen homes where pooches were positioned at the front window, looking expectantly for their master or mistress … the sad truth was that their pet parent(s) probably just left a few minutes earlier and would not return for many long hours.  You know your precious pets begin whining and pacing the minute you shut the door, and, if they wore watches or could tell time, they’d be getting very anxious as the day wears on.  There is nothing like the love of a pet at the end of the day, or even just a few hours – someone to welcome you back and make you feel special.  I’ve had my own parade of pooches while growing up and since it is “Throwback Thursday”, I’ve included them above.  It doesn’t matter your pet’s breed or even size … if I’m gone from the kitchen more than a few minutes, my canary Buddy will begin to sing, as if to call me to say “hurry back”.

I arrived at the allergist ahead of schedule, hoping to be the first one in, and then out in record time. They are especially busy at this time of the year.  With nothing to do, except stand in place like a statue, I looked across the street to 7-Eleven.  A man came out of the store and retrieved a big white dog from a car.  While keeping him tethered on a long leash, he let that dog run in an empty lot behind the store.  I figure they lived in a place that had no yard, because that dog seized the moment to run and jump in the overgrown grass and dandelions.  Soon he was on his back, wriggling around in the warm weeds and smiling away.  You do know that dogs smile, don’t you?  I got a real kick out of the antics of the dog, who kept looking up at his owner, as if to say “care to join me here?”

It sure looked like a lot of fun, and I could recall many a time as a youngster playing in the meadow with my friends – all of us on our backs, looking up at the sky and deciding what the cloud formations reminded us of … warm Summer days and warmer memories.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re man or beast:

Simple pleasures are life’s treasures. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

… and I was part of the welcoming committee today.

It was a beautiful morning, and, once I saw that sunshine peeking through the blinds, I was eager to get out and enjoy my walk.

It was a bit breezy though, and, while wending my way through Wyandotte, I heard the melodic tinkle of wind chimes as the wind stirred them slightly. The twittering of the song birds as they greeted one another up in the trees, along with those wind chimes, harmonized perfectly to make for a very peaceful walk.

I watched the wind as it chased those pesky, light-as-a-feather elm seeds from the trees, then scattered them en masse on sidewalks and lawns, and … even on me. They sailed through the air and soon my coat jacket was littered with those paper-thin seeds that will mingle with the moist earth or mulch and a lot of sunshine to produce thousands of weeds in a few weeks.

While that wind was just perfect for launching all the elm seeds, and carrying the potpourri of fresh lilac blooms straight to my nostrils, unfortunately, that breeze was just a little too strong for one tiny sparrow to fly. As I walked down the Boulevard, I saw a small brown speck hopping along a cement driveway.  When I got closer, I noticed it was a baby sparrow, just a bit of a bird, a tiny feathery ball of fluff, with a stubby tail, short wings and a beige beak.  He reminded me so much of my canary, though admittedly, he lacked Buddy’s mop top, white stomach and neck.  This baby sparrow was not sickly as it danced down the drive in record time and sure ran like heck as I approached. I talked softly to this scared baby bird, and imagined his tiny heart pumping so fast in its chest, as it was scared of the big human who loomed over it.  I wondered what happened to its mama and why she was not keeping track of her little one.  He tried to “lift off” a couple of times, but the strong breeze made him unsuccessful in his efforts.  I wanted to scoop him up and take him along with me.

I continued on my journey and on my return trip, he was still there, this time with another sparrow close by, presumably giving him TLC or some flying lessons.

I did some flying of my own today – I think the breeze carried me along. I made it back and forth in record time (for me anyway), though I am nowhere near my goal of walking five miles in under an hour by Labor Day 2016.  Maybe we’ll revise that goal to Labor Day 2017 instead!

I leave you with a little Wednesday wisdom:

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. – Bill Shakespeare

[Image from Public Domain Pictures/18043 from Pixabay]

Weather speak … it’s a whole new concept these days, especially after such a rainy, damp and dreary past few weeks . In fact, I think the meteorologists are trying hard not to disappoint us in their weather forecast, even though it is not as if we shoot the messenger.

I’ve been musing over this for a couple of weeks now. For example, instead of just calling for rain, the weathermen might predict a “sprinkle” or a “spritz” or even a “passing shower”.  Perhaps they think the listeners are just so fed up with the wet weather that it is okay to stretch the truth a little.  Why not stop being apologetic and just say “hey folks – it’s gonna rain” and get it over with?  I guess I’d liken this weather speak syndrome to the first snowfall of the year when the meteorologists start slinging around the “s” word in advance of the real event.

This morning, I awoke and heard the early news. It was raining at Metro Airport, but it was supposed to turn into “sprinkles” shortly.

Ever the optimist (as to the walking regimen anyway), I got ready to go, thinking they might be wrong. I stuck my head out the door, eyeballed the sky and next put my hand out and didn’t detect any of those so-called “sprinkles”, so off I went.

Two blocks later, I felt the first drop or rain land on my nose and soon another spattered my eyeglasses. Grrrr.

I vowed not to turn back, but I decided not to stray too far from the ‘hood either.

Well, those pesky droplets continued, with the occasional one choosing to settle smack on my nose and some even splattered onto my coat sleeve.

My mom used to define those hit-or-miss spritzes as “God spitting”, and, for a gentle sprinkly-type rain, she’d declare that “God was watering his flowers up in Heaven”, so, when I was a child, I occasionally wondered why God would spit and where did he buy such a big watering can to sprinkle all his flowers? But, since I was not an impertinent child, I never asked my mom to elaborate.  She wasn’t a blasphemous person in the least and I think she got these expressions from her mother, as I’d often hear my grandmother remark that “God is moving his furniture” when thunder signified a storm was rolling in.  My mom liked that expression as well.  I guess in the Summer months that God re-arranged that furniture along the hardwood floor alot.  My grandmother used to run around the house and sprinkle holy water because her mom had done that when she was growing up.

As I walked along my usual path this morning, while artfully dodging the biggest raindrops, I carefully stepped over the occasional worm and deftly sidestepped the slimy slugs that were creating their own iridescent trails on still-damp concrete. I didn’t get soaked, but my clothes were just dampened a bit.  Overall, my enthusiasm for the walk didn’t dampen and I got three miles in.  All in all, I had to concede it’s a good thing it’s a wash-n-wear world we live in.

It was a beautiful morning, still cold, but the sun made all the difference in the world. I saw no bundled-up bunnies, and, truthfully, I could have left a layer or two off as well, as I was warm by the time I got home.

The old adage of wait a few hours and Michigan’s weather will change sure was true yesterday. In the morning, you might have packed a snowball, whereas a few hours later, you could be pitching a softball.  In that vein, just two weeks from today you might be bobbing around in a pool with a beach ball.  It seems impossible that Memorial Day is just around the corner.

As I walked down Emmons Boulevard, I noticed that people were still treating their posies with TLC and many were hidden out of sight or covered with brown paper bags or newspaper.

It seems the dandelions didn’t give a whit about the cold weather – they are everywhere in the parks that I pass on my walk and perhaps there is even an overabundance of them this year. In Lincoln Park they will mow later in the week, especially in Memorial Park, where the festivities for the parade will take place this Sunday.  So, there are many tall and spindly dandelions that have lost their “bloom”, or, those straggly, bent-over weeds with wispy white fluff that kind of look like old men.  Then, there are the sunny yellow dandelions which look like tow-headed youngsters or mini sunbursts.  As I gazed in those fields covered with these weeds, I was remembering when I was young and we’d make wishes on the spent dandelions and watch them drift slowly into the air.

I walked to the railroad tracks and back, and, while on that trek, I peered into the Ecorse Creek, like I always do when crossing the footbridge. There were no ducks or geese this morning, but I saw some large ripples in the water, and I knew it was more than just the wind.  I saw a huge muskrat padding through the murky water and he made it to the banks of the Creek and quickly disappeared into the reeds and brush there.  I had my camera, but he was way too quick for me … besides, it’s hard to get too enamored about an ol’ muskrat (unless of course you’re the Captain and Tennille).

[Image by Stviod from Pixabay]

… the birds, and the bees, and the flowers and the trees. They were all in Spring mode … until today.  Now they are all in disbelief about this weather, as am I.  I think this wacky weather is the price we pay for that wonderful Winter we so enjoyed.  After a soggy Saturday and damp Sunday morning, I saw the sun and hurried outside hoping to get a walk in.  It was only 36 degrees when I left, clad in a down coat, wool hat, muffler and mitts – mitts seemed very fitting here in the Mitten State.  Not a soul was out as I went on this Sunday stroll.  Gone were the cheerful hanging baskets and colorful porch pots that lined the homes along Emmons Boulevard just a few days ago, having been whisked away to the garage or basement last night.  Some folks had thrown newspapers over their newly planted annuals to preserve them from the cold weather – hopefully they were successful.  The birds weren’t singing as they had sore throats.  The squirrels weren’t scampering because they were tucked up in their nests.  I saw a few bunnies boppin’ along,  well protected by their fur coats, but I bet they wished for warmer duds like these guys are sporting above.   I sure hope it warms up some because the ants have returned – they “get it” … no one is picnicking as it’s much too chilly for potato salad, so might as well head into Linda’s cozy kitchen.  Sigh.

[Image courtesy of FreeVintageillustrations.com]

I was reluctant to even tread outside on this Friday the 13^th … after all, in the last month, it seems as if everything has had a mind of its own and has been behaving badly.

First, it was the car and its little electrical issue rendering it dead as the proverbial doornail.

Then, it was the jar of coffee that flipped its lid, and, in an attempt to grab that lid in midair, I slammed the top of my hand onto the countertop – my knuckles are still tender and swollen.

Then, it was bugs behaving badly.

It started out a week ago with one small black ant running across the countertop.  So, I sighed, then squished its guts and hurried it and the Kleenex, with which I’d made the big kill, straight to the toilet to flush him down to the Detroit River.

Then, there was another.

And another.

Soon, I was averaging about three or four ants an hour.

To add insult to injury, one of those tiny, dark-colored buggers scaled down the sink cupboard and came over to visit me at the table. I felt something on my arm – thinking (and hoping) it was a stray hair, I looked, only to find an ant running along my elbow.  I flipped it off, frantically and fast, and it landed on my pants, making it an ants-in-the-pants syndrome.

I have no idea where they came from.

With my luck, one pregnant mama ant fell from a tree, then hitched a ride into the house on my clothes and voila – a whole slew of them.

Perhaps it is the rain that brought them? Or Spring weather?

The ants are like teenagers. They don’t appear ’til around mid-day and then disappear just as the dishes need to be done – hmmm.  Do they go to the mall then, or hang out with their friends?

I found myself typing with one eye trained to the countertop, and the other on my computer screen. I Googled for natural remedies to rid myself of these pests and found several, but, a friend of mine recommended putting out cornmeal for them to eat as it eventually kills them since they can’t digest it properly.  Poor ants, but, I was worried more about my well-being than theirs, so I figured I’d go buy some Thursday morning.  Alas, it rained on my parade.  So I took out a box of Cream of Wheat instead.  I left it unopened, but stationed right next to the toaster and I had an empty shallow dish to pour those granules into.   I was ready … the next ant and I would fight back!

Perhaps the box of Cream of Wheat intimidated them. I’ve only had one ant yesterday and one today, so I did not use my weapons … yet.

The only ants I like are “ants on a log” which my mom used to make me when I was a kid – you know … slathering celery sticks with peanut butter and dotting the peanut butter with raisins.

Yesterday, I was doing a spider dance, after I walked down the hall and saw a dark brown blob on the baseboard. I was instantly paralyzed with fear, then transfixed with that creature, afraid to blink lest it should scurry away to parts unknown.  Suddenly, it saw me and twitched two of its eight legs as if to say “hi” … it only made me shudder and reach for my shoe.  As I stood in a flamingo-like pose, I thought to myself “oh good – try to slay the bugger while standing on one foot and topple over.”  Mercifully, it quickly scuttled away from the baseboard and onto the carpet so I stepped on it – about five times – in fact, maybe even six times, for good measure, just to ensure it was not going to terrorize me again.

Of course Mother Nature has been behaving badly (and looks to continue that trend this weekend with snowflakes in the northern ‘burbs). Her mischief with this incessant rain has me annoyed for each walk I have missed.

So, I asked myself this morning “on this Friday the 13^th, should I take the car for a run, or myself for a walk, or stay inside the house where it is safer?”  Of course, bad karma lurks everywhere, but why make more bad things happen?

Well, I figured I’d do the walk and take care not to step on any sidewalk cracks, go under any ladders or walk near any black cats. So, my trek was quick and easy – to the Harrison Street Bridge and back.  It was sunny, so I toted along the camera and headed to that waterfowl hangout for geese and ducks.  I hoped to see some young ‘uns – goslings or ducklings – congregating with their kin, but there were none.  It was a nice trip anyway, though a little puddly from last night’s non-stop rain.

I added about three miles to my total today – I’ve not met any of my mini-goals set thus far in 2016, mostly due to this rain.

The weather will eventually get better, otherwise we need to start building a gigantic ark, and, this time we won’t include any ants or spiders, okay?

[Image by Kerbstone from Pixabay]

Sometimes you can’t win for losin’. Last weekend I went to Council Point Park hoping to get a few warm and fuzzy photos of Canada Geese and their goslings, but I saw none.

Today, I was taking the car for a little spin before walking. At the busy intersection of Goddard and Fort Street, I had to do a double take.  First, I saw a pair of Canada Geese in the grassy median as I was stopped for an extraordinarily long light.  I figured they were there for a bite to eat as the grass was longish.  However, when I looked a little closer, I was surprised to find that pair of Canada Geese were guarding four fuzzy-looking goslings that were tucked in between them.  None of these fine-feathered friends seemed to mind the traffic as it whizzed by during the a.m. rush hour, which got me wondering how they got to this busy spot in the first place?  Did they bold and brazenly cross busy Fort Street in the midst of traffic, or wander there in the wee hours of the morning when there was little, if no traffic?  Or were they lost, loose in an environment, out of their element and far from their quiet sanctuary down at Council Point Park?

Well, my mind raced. I could take the car home and grab the camera which I left behind as it looked like rain, and then return to the area to catch a shot or two.  But, what if a couple of the goslings slipped away from their “safe harbor” and wandered out into the busy street?  I sure didn’t want any part of that scenario, bleeding heart that I am. Nor did I wish to see a slew of angry drivers, and a whole lot of honking going on – not necessarily by the geese of course.

So … I didn’t return to this idyllic scene.

I drove home, parked the car and left on my walk, which turned out to be a very nondescript trek, devoid of any visible wildlife – they were there all right, as I heard twitters and tweets by the songbirds, who remained out of sight. I guess the squirrels and rabbits were sleeping in.

This morning yielded an unexpected glimpse of proud parents and their brood in a most-unlikely place, and, I knew I couldn’t top that morning treat after I moved on from that scene.

I’ll leave you with a little Wednesday wisdom: In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous. ~ Aristotle

[Image from openclipart.org]