WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It’s a spectacular Sunday … just perfect for all the moms out there.

While it would have been preferable to get my miles walked in the great outdoors, I needed to go grocery shopping, so I killed two birds with one stone. (Sorry birds.)

Going to the store on Mother’s Day is bittersweet, though not so much as in 2010, the year I lost my mom. Just seeing the greeting cards, decorated cakes, candy and flowers going out the door to happy moms, when I knew I would not be buying any cards or gifts anymore, hit me hard.

For decades, I always bought my annuals and hanging baskets during the week preceding Mother’s Day as the selection was best. I’d have to stash them in the garage as it was still nippy out at night.  Every morning, before work, I’d lug flat after flat, and all the baskets, out into the sunshine and haul them back in before nightfall, so, I was glad when Memorial Day weekend arrived so I could put them all out for good.  I remember that first year after my mom passed away, I went into the nursery area only to be assailed by a bevy of beautiful hanging baskets and porch pots with signs proclaiming “for Mom on her special day”.

That made me sad, even though the only flowers I ever bought for my mom were Anthuriums – that was for her Valentine’s Day birthday each year, as they resembled hearts. I planted Bleeding Hearts twice and the rabbits ate them so I gave up on that and bought a few clematis plants and trellises for the backyard as Mom admired them climbing up the pillars at the Olive Garden restaurant; unfortunately they didn’t really amount to much until after she was gone.  As to candy, I bought her “Turtles”, those ooey-gooey pecan and caramel chocolate clusters … she was crazy about them.  And black jelly beans (ugh).

It has definitely gotten easier as time goes on.

Today the store was bustling with shoppers and the focus was “100% Mom”. Meijer had gorgeous bouquets everywhere and people were scooping them up.  I perused the hanging baskets in the nursery area, while stepping over the hoses and around the puddles, not at all missing the effort that goes into planting and maintaining those blooms so they look good through the Fall.  I used to spend a couple of hours daily deadheading, weeding and watering.  Now, I’m a lazy gardener, dealing just with the perennials and roses in the backyard, and, I’m always behind in their TLC.  Since I started walking, I use artificial flowers which I’ve “planted” into decorative pots, planters and a wheelbarrow, and have wreaths hung onto the fence and on shepherd’s hooks, so, I rarely, if ever, stray into the store’s nursery area anymore.

I love the radio ads for Bordine’s Nursery though. They’ve had the same English miss by the name of Fiona Brinks in the seasonal ads for many years.  I noticed that in 2015, Fiona added a tagline touting Bordine’s flowers, calling them “bigger, better and bloomier”, plus she has been giving a lot of suggestions for flowers for “Mum”.  Every time I’ve heard her say “Mum”, it evokes fond memories for me.

As most of you know, I am Canadian, having spent the first ten years of my life in Canada and I’ve yet to become an American citizen – one day though ….  There are many idioms and expressions Canadians have adopted from the Brits, and, one of them is “Mum”.  “Mummy” and “Mum” are the usual names for “Mom” or “Mother” in Canada.

I grew up calling my mom “Mummy” which kind of morphed into “Mum” as I got older. When I started working at the diner, everyone was from the deep South and they always called the matriarch of the family “Mama”.  I tried “Mama” on for size and my mom rolled her eyes.  Likewise, I tried calling her “Ma” … she said she wasn’t “Ma Kettle”, so that didn’t go over so well either.  So “Mom” it was for many many years.

In 1979 I travelled with my parents to England for vacation – we stayed for a week at a small bed and breakfast in Surbiton, Surrey and travelled in a large black taxi into town or to meet tour groups for day excursions. The British woman who ran the place was very prim and proper and her daughter, equally prissy, called her “Mumsy” … she would stand at the bottom of the stairs and call up to her mother “Mumsy … oh Mumsy!”.  My mom and I found it comical and stifled our laughter whenever we heard her say it, so long after our trip was over I’d call my mom “Mumsy” just for laughs every so often.

It doesn’t matter what Mom’s moniker was … or is, she is unique to you … the woman who gave you life and made you YOU.

Today is the day to honor her personally, or honor her memory.

I leave you with this quote: “I realized when you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.”  ~Mitch Albom

Happy Mother’s Day everyone.

[Image courtesy of FreeVintageillustrations.com]

It was a perfect May morning, and I scurried out the door posthaste just in case those predicted storms arrived sooner rather than later.

Apparently everyone else in Lincoln Park had the same idea.

As I rounded the corner near my house, as usual, the Doberman came loping over to the fence. I quickly ran out into the street to pass by his house, since he was not there to socialize, but defend his turf.  This morning, however, his bark was worse than his bite; he wasn’t a big threat as he’d been to the vet’s office for some procedure, since he was wearing a big cone over his head and an inner tube-like gizmo on his shoulders held the cone in place.  The clear-plastic cone gave him a clownish look, instead of his usual menacing look, but, those eyes stared right through me and I knew he was saying “don’t tempt me”, so I didn’t sneer at him, or even roll my eyes, and instead hurried on my way.

There was a plethora of pooches enjoying a morning promenade, including a Great Dane who was taking its owner on a walk and straining at the bit to go faster. She was just a wisp of a woman, so slight that she might have ridden on his back and made it easier on herself.  I saw a Bull Mastiff and an English Bulldog  – both looked surly, though I’d done nothing to raise their hackles.  Lucy, the Jack Russell Terrier mix was distracted from the business of walking, since she was busy sniffing her owner’s pocket.  Pat gives Lucy a treat for each passerby so she won’t try to jump on them, so Lucy reaped bigtime as to treats this morning.

Even the streets were kind of busy as everyone was driving to the store to buy their present for Mom.

The rest of the crowd were either motorcycling, moving furniture, mowing the lawn or marrying … er, getting ready to get hitched. I saw a woman walk out of the house gingerly transporting a long bridal veil and another woman followed behind her while hoisting up a long garment bag.

I had packed my camera and a few tidbits of stale bagels and headed over to Council Point Park. It has been ages since I was last there.  The grass was dotted with dandelions – thousands of them, some yellow and some spent already.  My mission was to get in a walk and hopefully come home with a few photos of goslings or ducklings with their mamas to accompany this post, but, those wee ones were either camera shy, well-hidden, or maybe still inside the egg, so I am using this cute image taken by Brigitte Werner, a Canadian photographer from B.C. instead.

I didn’t see anyone to give my break-your-teeth-on-‘em bagels so I tossed them out to some sparrows at the Park and they glommed onto them just as soon as they hit the ground. They even bounced, they were that hard.

Even though it was “World Naked Gardening Day”, I didn’t see anyone participating in this event (not that I would have taken pictures). Well hoe hum – maybe next year.

All told, I got 4 miles logged. I believe that the rain, like me, took a hike.

[Image by Brigitte Werner from Pixabay]

It’s finally Friday and the weather made it a kick-up-your-heels kind of day. I decided Mother Nature definitely deserved an “atta girl”, though I may have to take it back in the coming week.

The morning was just perfect, and, finally I was dressed properly for my walk … not too hot, not too cold. The sun was inviting and warm on my face and hair, and it seemed that everything was right with the world.  Suddenly I felt very energized, much like a foal running around the paddock … the wind in my hair and footloose and fancy free.

In 1992, my mom and I travelled to Kentucky and one of our stops was at Kentucky Horse Park. It was early May, the week after the Derby Day.  As we walked around the sprawling grounds, all the new foals were out in the paddock jumping and kicking up their heels like wild Mustangs and you couldn’t help smiling at their antics.  The Horse Park was a treasure trove of history and warm fuzzies and we spent an entire day touring the grounds and attractions.  The weather was picture perfect, much like today, and I snapped this picture of my mom standing at the entranceway to the Park.

I didn’t realize ‘til this morning that the Kentucky Derby was tomorrow. It seems our local news has been chockfull of nasties all week and Campaign 2016 has trumped any other topic on the national news, so the annual running of the three-year-old fillies took a backseat.  At least until today, when the media was all abuzz about “Nyquist” the three-year-old colt that is the favorite to win the Kentucky Derby.  He was named for Detroit Red Wings forward Gustav Nyquist.  Well, hopefully he runs like the wind, fueled on oats, not pizza pie.

Well, I too was fueled on oats and enjoyed my exercise, though I didn’t run like the wind, as I simply put myself through my paces, taking great strides, just like Nyquist to get ‘er done and move on to the next goal.

I could have dilly-dallied a little longer, just taking in the beauty of the day, but horse sense told me it was a work day and I’d better get back to my post in record time.

Spring continues to load – slowly, very slowly. Nearly all the trees are out, but there is a cold and damp chill in the air in the early a.m.

I counted on a long walk this morning, so I set my alarm clock to go off very early, but, when I heard that shrill alarm, I decided to snuggle back down under the covers a little longer. My one arm parted those covers and reached over and grabbed for the radio headphones, then I settled in to listen to the news of the day and weather report before I got myself into gear.

The weatherman said “drizzling and fog at Metro Airport” … what??? A beautiful morning was predicted for today!  Disgusted, and somewhat disgruntled, I ripped off the radio headphones, re-set the alarm clock, grumbled and mumbled a few choice words, then punched my pillow – partly to get set for another snooze – partly because I saw another walk succumbing to the weather.

Sigh.

When the alarm went off some 90 minutes later, I clapped the radio headphones onto my ears and flipped the covers back. The news anchors were chattering about the chilly, but sunny, morning and the weatherman confirmed that the sun was shining brightly – even at Metro Airport.

So, you are now saying that the drizzle fizzled?

Grrrrrrrrr.

As I headed to the kitchen, I remembered one of my mom’s favorite sayings “believe half of what you hear and all of what you see” … well, that was the truth this morning, and, it’s not the first time I listened first, looked outside later.

So hopefully I learned my lesson, right?

Well, I cheated myself out of a long walk on a beautiful day, but I did get a chance to pound the pavement for an abbreviated trek anyway. Today’s excursion didn’t yield any mischief-making geese at the footbridge, although the ducks were making a ruckus about something as they skidded down onto the surface of the water after descending from the sky.  They sure were a noisy bunch and I wanted to tell them I was in a cantankerous mood as well, but resisted that urge and just kept walking (and muttering to myself all the way).

On the return trip, I spotted a large husky running around the sprawling grounds of a church. At first, I thought he was on the loose, then noticed he was on an extra-long leash, and, yes … his owner was following along behind him.  She was wearing flip-flops, shorts and a tank top.  I was in a heavy coat, gloves and a hat.  I listened to the weatherman – he said in the 40s … we greeted one another and remarked on the beautiful morning.  I asked her if she was cold and I said I listened to the weatherman who said it was 40 something.  She said “nope, I’m not cold, and I just looked outside at the sun and wore this!”

Clearly, her mom preached the same words of wisdom … only that girl followed Mom’s advice.

Sometimes good things come to those who wait.

Like me for instance.

I am not a big fan of Mother Nature right now. She’d get a “F” for fail in the sunshine department first of all for the last few days.  And .. what about that fog early this morning?  My friend Marge says if Mother Nature had a phone, she call and complain about all the rain.  Unfortunately there’s no phone number or website to register complaints against this fictional character and the weather folks protest that they are only the messenger.

So, we just grin and bear it.

But, lucky for me, my boss was out this morning, thus affording me the opportunity to leave a little later – good thing since I looked outside around 8:30 a.m. and I couldn’t see across the street. Not so good for navigating on foot or four wheels.  So, I was patient and left later.  In fact, I was surprised to look out about an hour after my first peek, to find a blue sky.  I know coffee helps gets rid of my morning fog, so, perhaps Mother Nature had some magic brew too.

I missed walking these past few days and Saturday was an errand-filled day, so it seemed like forever since I was out and about for a walk. And, wow … was I overdressed.  I passed our mail carrier along the way, and she was sporting shorts and low-cut socks and bare legs, and, here I was still in a wool cap and gloves and a Winter coat … I need to banish these items soon, but, not too far away mind you – it is Michigan after all.

Well, my feet found their way on auto-pilot over to Emmons Boulevard and I decided to take my trek to the tracks and back. But, I was steaming along at a good pace when I saw a traffic tie-up ahead … I let out a sigh and wondered what was wrong.  As I neared the footbridge which separates Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, I quickly found out the cause for the commotion.

A trio of Canada Geese were goose-stepping across the Boulevard right at one of the busiest cross-streets. But, were they walking quickly or taking their sweet time to saunter across the street?  Just take a guess about those geese … of course it was the latter.

I saw this happen last year and one of the drivers was very impatient, to the point of freaking out because a row of Canada Geese stretched across Emmons Boulevard and totally stopped her from proceeding down the street. I watched her gestures and grimaces, but those geese didn’t care.  In defense of the geese, it doesn’t happen all that often, as they usually cross the street by floating under the footbridge or flying overhead.  Today, I was happy to see the drivers formerly going East and West on Emmons, quietly queuing up while waiting for the geese to continue on their merry way.  Were those drivers angry?  It’s hard to say, but there was no honking … by the humans anyway.

Those geese were not birdbrains – they didn’t take to the streets ‘til after the fog had lifted, otherwise they might’ve been a trio of greasy goose spots on the Boulevard.

Many have asked and answered why the chicken crossed the road? To get to the other side is the response.

So, why did these Canada Geese cross the road? To tick off the Downriver drivers would be my best guess.

So, good things do come to ALL those who wait – and we now know nature is really the boss in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes I catch Mother Nature in the act … she waves her magic wand and creates beauty from the mundane right before my very eyes.

And, on this humdrum Friday, she was truly an artist extraordinaire.

I peeked out the door and was pleasantly surprised to discover the incessant rain had not lingered into this morning, despite each of the local weather folks predicting a soggy a.m. drive time.

But, alas … it was not a picture-perfect day either and absent were blue skies and fluffy white clouds – the heavens were horribly gray and gloomy looking.

I suited up, still wearing a wool hat and gloves on this next-to-last day of April; in fact, I even glanced at the shovel and boot tray, and wondered if they can be put away yet. There’s no telling what’s up anymore with this crazy Spring weather.

I stepped outside and right away a bright yellow streak crossed my path. What the …?

It took me a moment or two before my eyes were trained on a goldfinch sitting on my neighbor Marge’s magnolia bush. Wow!  Maybe even double wow!  That bird with its brilliant yellow feathers and black cap and wings was perched on a beautiful magnolia bush which had just erupted into color since I last saw it Wednesday morning.  It was quite a sight … dabs of color on a monochromatic morning.  It was as if I gazed at a picture with a black and white background and someone Photoshopped the colorful finch and magnificent magnolia bush right into that scene.

Well, that magnolia bush truly transformed the corner of Marge’s backyard with its pastel palette. I waited and watched while that sweet little bird flitted from branch to branch, then finally he made a beeline over to the feeder.  Once this golden beauty had eaten its fill of black seeds, it migrated back to the magnolia bush where it posed prettily for me again.  Back-and-forth this tiny fellow went, and my eyes followed him the entire time.  Soon he tired of that route and he flew up to my gutter, where I guess he had been when I startled him by opening the screen door.  He looked like an oversized bee making the rounds looking for flowers’ nectar to sup from.  But this little guy never sat still for more than a minute, because next he meandered over to hang from a thick rope attached to a yard decoration that is a smiling resin rabbit that sits on a seat and swings.  The bird’s slight weight caused the rope to sway and that sudden movement seemed to frighten him, so he hastily clung onto this moving perch, then made a mad dash back into the magnolia bush again.

So … was his Mama in there, or was he seeking refuge from me, the hulking human, who was so fascinated with his behavior?

Finally, and almost reluctantly, I left to make my own beeline to the tracks and back on a murky morning awash with fifty shades of gray.

[Image by Maggie Rust from 2015 entitled “Goldfinch”]

Mother Nature was not kind to the walkers this early morn. So, there I sat, in the kitchen, nursing my first cup of joe and listening to the national news.  Hmmm, so now there’s a new twist in the presidential campaign – Ted Cruz and John Kasich are allies, trying to gang up Donald Trump and steal his delegates … and his thunder.  Of course The Donald will not have any of that.  He promptly reverted back to using his favorite moniker of “Lyin’ Ted Cruz” and even insulting Kasich’s table manners.  It was entirely too much shouting so early in the morning; in fact, I’d have shaken my head, but my headphones might’ve slid off and fallen onto the floor.  I’ll bet Donald Trump had no difficulty standing up for himself in the schoolyard back in the day.

Well, I sure wasn’t going anywhere, despite the last vestiges of fog starting to disappear, because what was left was dreary and drizzly. Ugh.

So, definitely another jolt of java was in order. But, then I remembered I had to “start” a new jar of instant coffee.  That jar, like some other bottles or containers, are a challenge to open sometimes.  For example, every time I try to open a new bottle of Kraft ranch dressing, I have to twist and turn and grimace and yank, just to get the lid unscrewed and off. That dressing has no safety liner and a few times my death grip on the bottle has squeezed too hard and sent a big spurt of fat-free ranch dressing up to the ceiling.  Nice!

So, I eyed that jar of coffee, while thinking of my mom who was plagued with arthritis in her hands in later years; she had considerable difficulty opening jars. I bought her a jar lid popper and a rubbery-type gripper gizmo, but she preferred the tried-and-true method of taking a teaspoon and tapping lightly all around the jar lid, then tapping hard in the middle and presto – it would open.  Well, most of the time anyway.  The rest of the time she would begrudgingly use the “gifts” I bought her or hand that jar of pickles or jam to me.

This particular jar of Nescafé Dark Roast Clasico is no different. It is vacuum-packed and packs a punch – first you struggle with the odd-shaped lid, then once you lift the vacuum seal, a big whoosh of air always comes out.  But, I wanted that second cup of Joe, and, I admit, I was a little impatient.  Foregoing the usual tactics to open the lid, I just grabbed a pair of disposable vinyl gloves and gave a mighty twist.  I got the lid half unscrewed and the pressure inside the bottle sent the lid airborne.  I reached up and tried to catch it, and, in doing so, rammed the top of my hand against the countertop.  Hard.  Very hard.  Yup, I shouted.  I probably scared poor Buddy who was sleeping soundly in the other room, under his blankets, on one foot, head neatly tucked under his wing.  He no doubt thought to himself “well how rude … Linda saw a spider or a centipede and she shouted, as usual, and woke me up!”

Now, I have a huge bruise and my knuckle is all raised up and swollen.

And that, my friends, is the origin of today’s blog post title.

[Image by Kaz from Pixabay]

I shut the screen door to leave for my walk this morning, and the first thing I saw was a big, fat robin sitting on the chain-link fence glaring at me. I hadn’t stepped on his toes, but he shot me a steely gaze, as if I had surely done so.  There he sat – motionless, his bright-yellow beak clasping a half-dozen long strands of dried grass.  “Building a nest I see?” was my comment to him, but he ignored my obvious question and didn’t budge from his perch.  I knew right away I had to spring into action, so I high-tailed it to the front yard to see if the robin and his cohorts had knocked down my jerry-rigged contraption over the front porch light.  Nope, it was still intact, so that meant that red-breasted bird was up to some mischief somewhere else.

I opened the garage and took out my corn broom, intending to whisk away “Home Sweet Home” wherever I found it, but that robin finally flew away, giving me no clue where that humble, mud-splattered abode might be. I took a quick tour of the backyard.  There was no nest way up high atop the yard light, probably because I chased him away multiple times the last few years … that is, assuming it was the same robin with that dour personality.  He’s up to no good and I’ll bet it is at my house, but his misdeeds were not to be discovered today.

Finally, I set off on my walk. Around the corner from my house, a nearby yard waste truck was whining and groaning as it struggled to munch up all the extra clippings and trimmings in overfilled yard waste bags.  The garbage man kept cramming more into the back of the truck and the truck’s grinding mechanisms kept rebelling, so it sounded like it was in pain and someone should put it out of its misery.  By now everyone has made the cut … you know, the first mowing of the season.  Lawn after lawn was bright green, lush and still sporting wheel marks the heavy mower had left behind.

There were dandelions everywhere – even the tall ones that my neighbor Marge sometimes describes as swaying in the breeze like a palm tree.

I finally strayed from the Boulevard and dipped down another side street, seeking a safe haven for the sake of my ears, since that truck’s grinding noise was indeed grinding on my nerves.

I noted that the warmish weather has beckoned a few more magnolia buds to suddenly burst open … these trees were “smarter” than their counterparts who permitted their bulbs to open up a smidge, then they promptly bit the dust during that cold snap a few weeks ago. The best is yet to come with this tree, as there are buds galore, and, hopefully after the storm rolls through tonight, these pretty pink blossoms will not be scattered hither, thither, and yon.

Hello Earthlings! How did you celebrate this special day dedicated to Mother Earth?

On this April 22^nd, the day we have annually commemorated our planet since 1970, it dawned without that pesky rain which tainted our Thursday and threatened to encroach into our early drive-time Friday.  But, that miserable rain left behind a calling card – the muggies, and even some fog, not to mention a few longish worms along the sidewalk.  I went out to run the car and deemed it suitable to walk, so I returned inside and duly suited up with all my walking paraphernalia, sans camera (it was nice, but not all THAT nice).

I read or heard recently that we share our planet with 9 million living species, and that little factoid just amazed me. I had no idea that there are around 7 million species on land and 2 million in our oceans.

I was thinking about that fact while walking and listening to the occasional birdcall, or, when I watched that robin nab a worm from the soggy ground and a minute later, there it was dangling from its beak. A couple of squirrels were so into their game of hide-and-go-seek, that they were oblivious to this human being that walked right past them.

More trees have leafed out, but there are more to come, so it was not entirely that blur of bright green that has taken so long to get here this Spring, a season which seems to have been evolving in fits and starts.

Well, I’m no tree hugger, but I do my best to save the trees by not using any writing paper. Despite having a virtual job, I keep all my notes in my head or else I use the sticky notes program on my work and home computers.  I just love that tool and always have a virtual yellow sticky note on the side of my computer desktop.  It is so chock full of places to go on the internet, thoughts to include in blog posts, or reminders to myself, that occasionally I have to save that skinny vertical note as a Word document if I need to search for something I “jotted” down.  So … to the trees, I’ll take a bow and you can thank me now.

I was also doing an admirable job of not polluting Mother Earth with my car by an aggressive walking regimen, but, while the added mileage was good for my health, it was becoming detrimental to the car, so I need to drive it more and now must forego my game of who generates the most miles – the car or me?

I hope you get a giggle over this googly eyed “Moss Man” like I did, and that you, too, did something special to take care of our planet today. Remember that it’s our safe haven and I don’t believe we can count the planet Mars, or even the moon, as viable options to live – in our lifetime anyway.

I’m still dwelling on that nine million species, and we are merely one of them – fancy that! I leave you with this thought:

“The earth is what we all have in common.” ~ Naturalist/writer Wendell Berry

[Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay]

… and the day dawned sunny, so off I went. Today, I could enjoy the scenery a little more, because yesterday, I was about a mile out of the gate, when the gray sky squeezed out a few raindrops … then a few more.  I had unhooked the camera from my belt because it was so gloomy-looking out that I knew no good pictures were to be had and I didn’t want to risk getting the camera wet.  But, much to my chagrin, I forgot to pack it when I got dressed to go out this morning, and I sure could have put it to good use.

I noticed even more trees have leafed out and added their various green tones to this pleasing Spring palette, which, before now, was mostly pastel from those ornamental trees. I saw some stunning-looking cerise azaleas, deep purple hyacinths, daffodils in about ten shades of yellow, and, that same color scheme of purple and yellow even extended to the weeds, as those wild violets and dandelions provided a lot of color on this Spring day.

As I made my way down Emmons Boulevard, I heard about a half-dozen different birds calling out – I would like to think they were serenading me, but, of course, it was probably to one another, or, perhaps just expressing their joy in the peaceful morning. I tried several times to answer them back, but the stiff breeze dried my lips and I couldn’t purse them to attempt to match their whistles.

As I neared the footbridge that divides Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, I glanced over, as I always do, to check out who was inhabiting the rather brownish waters this morning. To my surprise, gliding very majestically down the center of the Creek was a huge Mute swan.  It was the only water fowl in the Creek, and soon it disappeared under the footbridge, so I dashed across the street to the other side to check it out from there.  Talk about up close and personal!  I had no idea a swan was that big and I watched it stop to drink or look for something to eat along the banks of the Creek.  It plunged its head into the water, then out again, and I saw its feathers were snowy white everywhere but its face and part of the neck which was tinged an ecru color.  Water dripped from its orange bill each time it stopped to nibble at the reeds along the water’s edge.  I wanted to kick myself for missing all the great shots as it looked right at me, so close that I swear I could see its eyelashes.

An early morning rain Thursday will definitely spoil my walk, so, unfortunately, the only sidewalk occupants will be the fat earthworms as they slither across the rain-slickened pavement, with the robins hopping along behind them in pursuit of their breakfast.

[Image by photographer Filio from Pixabay]