WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I love that it is finally getting lighter earlier; this morning as I bustled about getting ready to leave, I saw the first rays of the day filtering through the blinds as they cast a pale glow onto the floor. That hint of sunshine made me want to tear out of the house and get on the road ASAP.  Where did that expression “slow as molasses in January” come from anyway?  It sure was not me this morning.

I must admit I was feeling pretty smug as I walked past that snow shovel propped up against the wall in the basement when I went to get my coat. It was standing up in the dry boot tray and I noticed a fine layer of dust collecting on its bright-red handle.  That dust was very telling I would say.  It tells me that someone is a poor housekeeper, and, it also tells me this is my kind of Winter.  That new shovel has been used a total of three times in this season.

When I was finally suited up and then stepped out outside, one look at the sun and I was ready to burst out singing “Blue Skies – Nothing but Blue Skies” but I restrained myself. Besides … it might scare the birds who were hovering around my neighbor Marge’s many feeders that line her back deck.

It looked and felt like a March day with bare pavement, brownish-looking lawns with the occasional hard and crusty patches of snow, and very windy. It was a “hold-onto-your-hat” kind of day, like you find in March when your kite or your cap can go airborne in a matter of minutes. Michigan is going to lose its moniker of the “Winter Wonderland state” when we have 50 degrees on our thermometers this weekend.

It seems unbelievable that the end of January is upon us. I’ve not yet taken those coveted hiking boots out of the box, and maybe now I’ll just hold them over until next year, though I must confess I am itchin’ to borrow Nancy Sinatra’s song title for a blog headline ” These Boots are Made for Walkin’”.

As I walked along, I mused that I had music on the brain today, and, while pondering that thought, I saw a robin. He wasn’t singing, just bobbin’ along like the song says, occasionally trying to peck the frozen ground and scowling as his efforts yielded no worms or grubs as far as I could tell.  Seeing him reminded me that I must come up with a more-permanent fix to thwart the robins’ nest-building, though that is a few months away yet.  I was surprised to meet up with this robin red breast, even though I’ve heard, or read, that not all robins head South.  This was no birdbrain as he no doubt follows Local 4 weatherman Paul Gross on Twitter … Paul has been tweeting since early Fall that we were going to have a mild Winter thanks to El Nino.

I could have taken my camera along this morning, though my fingers might have been a tad cold to capture a picture, and frozen digits are sure no fun … they take too long to thaw out and feel normal again. Besides how would I have written this blog post, not to mention get Robb’s work done?

The days are getting longer and pretty soon I can hit the road earlier … a quick glance at the calendar shows that there are 51 days until Spring. As of today, I have walked 50 miles so far in this young year.  I am curious to see whether the Groundhog gets it right again.  If you’ll recall, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow last year and we got six more weeks of Winter (and then some).  Well, pfft to the old Groundhog’s predictions anyway; we have El Nino helping us to stay warm.  Gracias my little friend.

My boss was out this morning which was nice for me as I could leave later and take a longer walk. The sun was already high in the sky when I left the house, so that was a big plus as well.  We had scattered flurries last night and most of those flakes had settled into the cracks and crevices of the sidewalks, making it look as if Mother Nature got out her big sifter and let the icing sugar gently cover the cement.  It was otherwise clear and dry, with no slipping and sliding at all, so I headed over to Emmons Boulevard.

It was quiet in the neighborhood as the early-morning scramble to take the kids to school and get thyself out of the house timely had already passed. The neighborhoods and streets were deserted, but for the occasional squirrel bounding across the lawns or the soft twittering of birds clustered together in the bare trees.

It was peaceful.

The sun kept dipping in and out of the clouds, and those clouds were dark and brooding. Suddenly a flock of geese appeared overhead – just five of them – doing what geese do best, honking the entire time they were overhead.  Soon they were gone and the silence was restored.

I got to the footbridge and looked in. The middle of the Ecorse Creek is still frozen over and covered with that same light dusting of snow, while on the fringes of the Creek, the ice has melted and water is lapping on the low banks.  That rain we had yesterday probably did a number on the ice.  I crossed the bridge, stayed at a good pace and wended my way toward the River.

I kept hearing the drone of a small plane flying overhead. Ever the pessimist, I looked up to the sky, hoping that it was not a plane in peril as it sounded close by, and boy was it flying low.  It kept disappearing into the darker portions of the sky.  Only when it went into a sunny area did I notice that it was pulling a banner.  I didn’t notice the banner the first time as it was clear with black lettering on it.  I stopped in my tracks to read the message.  It said “Rest in Peace Eric E&J” and then it glided out of my sight once again.

Ahh, I knew what that message was about. In yesterday’s online version of the local newspaper, they told the sad tale of a local businessman who lost his life Friday in a snowmobile accident in Paradise, Michigan in the U.P.  He took a bad turn on the path and crashed into a patch of stumps and trees.  The article got my attention right away because I knew this young man.   He owned a tree-cutting business here in Lincoln Park and his company did work for the City.

On November 24, 2014 a terrible windstorm rolled through our City, and my neighbor Marge’s two plum trees incurred significant damage, splitting down the middle. Eric and his crew came the following day to remove the trees.  I heard a rumble of large machinery and went to the front door to investigate.  Within minutes, Eric and his crew got the machines revved up, had those two trees down, chomped up by a grinding machine and into a large mulch pile.  I was fascinated how quickly they finished the job, in fact, I even wrote about E&J in that day’s blog post. A day or two later I was returning from walking and the crew was there again, this time cleaning up the mulch and spreading fresh dirt.  I went over and said I could not believe how quickly they disposed of those two tall pear trees.  I got big grins for that statement.

But, more significantly, Eric was a hero to my friend Ann Marie last Spring, after her 4 ½-month-old African Grey parrot escaped from their new apartment. He was tethered to a leash but flew away with the leash attached to the harness and got carried into the raging wind.  He made a beeline for a fifty-foot tree in a neighbor’s yard in Allen Park, across the street from their apartment in Southgate.  Ann Marie and her husband searched for Digger; they walked around the grounds, and finally saw the harness in a tree, but it was nightfall, and much too late to call a tree trimmer to rescue him.  They were heartsick, as they believed they lost their beloved pet forever, not to mention that he would be spending the night in the pouring rain with temps dipping down to 36 degrees.

Saturday morning at 6:45 a.m. she called E&J and spoke to Eric Parrish who said he had an emergency job and promised he would be over as soon as he could.  Finally, that big E&J truck rolled up and pulled into a nearby driveway.  Up, up, up toward the sky this skilled tree trimmer went to retrieve one petite parrot as Ann Marie, and her husband, Steven, gazed up into the tree, two very anxious pet parents waiting on the news of their “baby”, because, to find this bird and have him healthy would be a minor miracle.  Success!  Eric grabbed Digger, gave a thumbs up and started his journey down to the ground, his little feathered friend in tow.  The ordeal over, it was all smiles and a scolding afterward to the naughty and mischievous Digger.

I thought about this interaction, and how Ann Marie proclaimed Eric her “hero”, while I watched the plane circle ‘round and ‘round overhead, all the while the sad message trailing in the breeze.

Finally I headed toward home and decided to walk along Fort Street to extend my walk a little longer. I purposely strolled through Memorial Park which is directly across the street from Solosy Funeral Home where the plane continued buzzing by and family and friends gathered out front to comfort one another prior to Eric’s 11:00 a.m. funeral.  Just as I suspected, heads were swiveling, just like mine, as they watched the little plane on its relentless journey.  The pilot would buzz close by … more heads swiveled upward … then more hugs.  Several E&J trucks were parked in front of the funeral home; there was a pickup truck whose bed was brimming over with huge chunks of cut wood and the other truck pulled tree cutting gear behind it.  Up and down the street, and in every available space for many blocks, cars and trucks filled the lots and people were walking up the street, enroute to the funeral home.

Perhaps they, like me, were remembering a vibrant young man, snatched away much too soon in a tragic accident.

Or, maybe they, like me, saw the irony of a man whose livelihood was felling trees, only to be quietly felled by one himself.

Eric Parish died doing something he enjoyed, and, if we learn nothing else from the tragedy, we should learn the value of living each day to the fullest, doing the things you love to do and surrounded by those who make you happy.

In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years. ~Abraham Lincoln

Back when you were just a little nipper you learned how little acorns grew up to be big oak trees. Those tall trees earn a ring in their woody trunks for every year they exist on earth.  Their trunks often become gnarled or misshapen as they weather the years, but they continue growing, undaunted by time as they continue to reach for the sky.

Eric Parrish reached 43 rings – how many rings will you reach in your lifetime?

[Image by photographer Patrick Fore at Unsplash]

While we’ve temporarily given snow the boot here in Southeast Michigan, I’ve watched the videos of Mother Nature’s handiwork as she has wreaked havoc on the Mid-Atlantic and East Coast areas. My friend Evelyn sent me a series of pictures from Richmond, Virginia of various stages of snowfall in her front yard and it was like watching time-lapse photography.  The massive mounds of snow reminded me of last year’s big snow event on Super Bowl Sunday, plus some of the big snowfalls back when I was a kid.  I think I’ve mentioned before about our home in Canada which was situated on a very curvy portion of the cul-de-sac, and many times after a big snow, my father’s VW Beetle would be buried beneath the drifted snow and looking like a big igloo sitting in the middle of the driveway.

Meanwhile, I keep waiting for other shoe, er … boot to drop and snow to return with a vengeance.

This morning I kind of meandered along, glad that I could linger a little longer than usual on my route since it was Sunday and I didn’t have to hurry back to get ready for work. Next, I crossed the footbridge and noted that the ice was starting to melt and pull away from the banks, but still there were no ducks or geese around.  When I arrived at the train tracks, there was the rumble of a train not too far away so I just turned on my heel and started to head back for home.

Our second sunny day in a row was meant to be savored. Both days the sun poked through the clouds and made you forget just how cold it was.  I tipped my face up to the sky and enjoyed the rays, even if they weren’t stellar for taking the chill off that red glow my cheeks were sporting from the cold air temps.  I leave you with this thought which is so apropos for today:

What good is the warmth of Summer without the chill of Winter? – John Steinbeck

The air temperature was a brutal 16 degrees and snowflakes were flying when I left the house, bundled up to the hilt but happy to be walking again. In fact, I was downright ecstatic to lace up my walking shoes as it had been way too long … nearly two weeks since I last took to the streets.

I didn’t have two braids hanging out beneath a bandana because my hair was twirled up under a warm woolen cap, but, like Willie, I had a song in my heart as well.

It was a fairly short jaunt this morning, as I wanted to ease back into walking and not overdo it, so I went just beyond the border of Lincoln Park and Wyandotte.

Long before I arrived at the footbridge, I saw a flock of geese flying overhead in V-formation. They were quiet, as geese go – I didn’t hear a single honk out of the bunch.  I was curious about them since they kept circling ‘round and ‘round over the water, as if they were seeking a place to splash down and could not.  The nearby grassy area had some snow, but not so much that they could not graze a little, or take a breather at least.  They seemed confused.  I watched as they made one pass, then another …  and still another, until finally they flew off to parts unknown.

Once I arrived at the footbridge, which separates the two cities, just as I suspected, the water was frozen solid. There had some activity in the Ecorse Creek, but not by my feathered friends.  I tried to identify any of the myriad of paw prints that peppered the light coat of snow on the icy surface.  There were many prints, of all different sizes, but no tunnel marks that might have identified a muskrat’s long, dragging tail, so I suppose it was possums or squirrels using the ice to cross from one Creek bank to the other without needing to scramble up to street level to do so.

Speaking of squirrels, I saw many of them as I walked up and down the Boulevard. As usual, they were scurrying to and fro to hit the houses where the homeowners offer them peanuts.  That way they don’t have to get their paws dirty or cold trying to remember exactly which lawn or garden they hid last Fall’s food treasures.

It is Squirrel Appreciation Day so I saluted this little guy with his prized peanut when I passed by.

I returned from my walk with rosy cheeks and a rosy disposition to match and now I am once again even-steven with my car mileage.

Well, I think Southeast Michigan has officially settled into a Winter abyss.

Last week that freezing rain messed up sidewalks and streets, and then, after they were clear and “walkable” again, my car needed a run more than I needed a walk so off WE went. Next, the deep freeze arrived, and, though the sidewalks and streets have been clear and dry, the air temps and wind chills were downright brutal. I’ve been taking the car out for a run every morning before work . I go up and down Fort Street, just like the little old lady from Pasadena, and, today I officially surpassed my walking miles (31) with my driving miles (34) for 2016 and that statistic just bums me out.

I miss my morning walking routine, but I think some warm and sunny, snow-free days are on the horizon. That buoys my spirits, but in the meantime, I had oiled up my exercise bike and have been pedaling away in the basement every day. It helps keep my legs strong and while sitting atop my high and hard bike seat, I can check out all the things I need to do in the basement. That makes me shudder for sure. Most of the time I shut my eyes to keep the dust bunnies and clutter out of my line of vision – you know “out of sight, out of mind” … but, when I open my eyes, sadly, the mess is still there.

So, between mindlessly pedaling away, I try to think summery thoughts (except pulling weeds, the bane of my existence). I remembered a photo I took as I walked along Fort Street one day last Summer. This turquoise polka-dotted bike sits outside Jim’s Hair Corral, a small hair salon in Wyandotte that is unique for its cowboy-inspired décor. I went to Jim and his wife Jill’s place for years for Jill’s TLC to my hair – expert cuts and skillful weaving of golden highlights into my layered locks. Now, I throw my hair up into a bun and have my very own little silver highlights that seem to thread through my mousy-brown hair.

Jim was very artsy-fartsy and used to take odd-shaped pieces of slate and paint them, then adorn the colorful facade with pictures and inspirational quotes. He’d fasten a wire loop on the back and they hung all over the shop. I’d get there a half-hour early just to read all the new ones, and, of course had to come home with one or two each time, most of which decorate the garden and downstairs. Jim painted this bike and stood it by a huge blackboard where he writes a happy thought or quote all year ‘round. Those words of wisdom stay on the board until it rains, or snows, and then a new thought in colorful chalk with flourishes and curlicues soon appears.

The bike, with its basket spilling over with fresh flowers all summer and evergreen boughs all Winter, caught my attention today as I zoomed past the shop in the car. It made me hanker for warm weather. I wanted to stop and calculate just how many months, weeks and days we had to wait, then go inside and get a piece of colorful chalk and write it in big letters on the now-bare chalkboard for the world to see (or at least the Downriver drivers who take this route).

But, hope does spring eternal. The days are already getting longer and the sun is setting later at night, but still a little too slow to rise in the morning, much to my chagrin.

Meanwhile, since the weather outside is frightful, I’ll just keep pedaling away, sweatin’ to the oldies with my Walkman in tow, its metal headphones clapped to my ears and the cassette/radio portion tethered to the bag on the handlebars as it has been for eons. I feel like Richard Simmons, only not quite that energetic so early in the morning.

A few years ago, during Wicked Winter #1 (2013-2014) I wrote a post about riding my bike when I finally gave up the walking regimen as the weather was just too horrid and I’d like to share it now … at least I was channeling two brilliant actresses: Kate Hepburn and Angela Lansbury … not the sweaty and ever-rambunctious Richard Simmons: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2014/02/28/back-to-the-bike-no-more-back-pedaling-on-my-nys-resolution/

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” – Albert Einstein

The Winter weather has already gotten tedious, yet it has only been Winter-like since Sunday. It was that freezing rain that has wreaked havoc on my week and made me Winter weary.  Also, it was week #2 of my boss being away so I had planned a leisurely walk for every day this week.  Well, I had to kiss that agenda goodbye, because, instead I was shoveling snow, or tippy-toeing around my home’s ice-slickened sidewalks and driveway.

Of course, in the cold but dry weather, I was “all about” wearing those new hiking boots, but when I went out with my shovel to tackle the ice in the driveway this morning, I took a quick gander up and down the street and sidewalks, and, despite the mild temperature, there were still slick and shiny patches of ice everywhere. Yup, false bravado for wearing those boots, but the time will come … the Winter (unfortunately) has a few more months to hang around.

I wonder about my furry and feathered friends I’ve seen along the way all these months. I even worry a bit how that goose in the above picture is faring.  He hissed and carried on so much when one of his brethren scarfed down that hunk of bread before he could snatch it up, which was extremely bad manners, of course.

I’ve felt a little lost this past week. I’ve been walking almost daily since the Spring, and not only was the morning constitutional missing, but my boss was missing as well.  He has been on two weeks’ vacation and he had left me no work to do.  It’s been a treat with all the spare time, but, it caused my days to be a little loosey-goosey, so I’ll welcome a return to normalcy soon.

In fact, I’m still all turned around on what day it is since the weekdays and weekends have somehow all morphed together since Christmastime.

As I write this post, it is pouring raining – maybe I’ll awake tomorrow to find the bare cement again, then off I will go.

And … if that not-so-nice-ice remains, I will devise a Plan “B”.

Just like that song from “The Sound of Music” about saying goodbye, I guess it is safe to say that El Nino has gone on vacation and left us with a cold, snowy and icy mess. There is never any “good” in “goodbye”, and, unlike that freak snowstorm we got on November 21^st that melted away the next day, I believe Winter is finally here to stay.  Grrrrrr and brrrrrr!

My boss has been in sunny Puerto Rico since the beginning of the year – perhaps El Nino is staying with him because the weather has been perfect since he arrived on January 2^nd.  Last week Robb and I kept comparing notes on the weather – one day ours was a frosty 21 degrees to his sunny 81 degrees.  Today when we spoke, I told him his vacation was gloat-worthy as I bemoaned the frigid cold and 4-inch snow drifts that he was missing here in Michigan, while he was enjoying the sun and fun in Puerto Rico.  Well, he sounded sympathetic but told me the waves were really too high to surf today, so he just stayed on the beach and baked in the sun.

We sure were spoiled by the warm Fall and temperate Winter and I am ready to have this ugly weather depart, much like these geese did as soon as they saw me appear on the footbridge on Christmas Day. I thought I had offended them as they took leave once they saw me.  Their friends stayed, however, once they discovered I was not only toting a camera, but also a bag of bread chunks for them.  Those pictures will be shared in later posts.

My good friend Ann Marie, whom I met while walking at Council Point Park gave me my laugh for the day. Not only do we share a love for walking and nature that we find at the Park, but also we both love birds.  She has an African Grey Parrot named “Digger” who has been increasing his vocabulary and phrases since she got him in December of 2014.  Yesterday, Ann Marie went over to Digger’s cage and said “Baby, it’s cold outside” … he processed that information and didn’t disagree at all, because ten minutes later he called out to her “Baby, it’s cold outside” … apparently even the birds think the weather is for the birds!

This morning, unlike the past few days when the sun made a triumphant return, the sky was dark and dreary. Mother Nature kept the rain at bay, so it was good walking weather.  I was unlacing my shoes after a four-mile trip, when that pitter patter of drops, originally predicted for morning drive time, finally began and the rain hasn’t let up since.

When it rains nonstop like that, people usually remark that it is “lovely weather for ducks” and I guess that’s true, if you like cold water running over your head and down your back, i.e. “like water off a duck’s back” … well, I guess it is an acquired taste.

But, there was no water, nor waterfowl, this morning when I crossed the footbridge because the Ecorse Creek has finally frozen over.   Of course, it is nothing like this time last year when every body of water was frozen solid with many inches of ice.  Perhaps by now, the ice-covered water of the winding Creek has broken up or become slushy from that rain pelting down all day.  But, it was a sad event, nonetheless, to walk across the bridge and catch a glimpse of a mere still life painting, with a scene completely devoid of ducks.  No quacking or splashing.  No mischievous mallards frolicking with their friends in the murky water, preening themselves or just gracefully gliding in pairs down the center of that skinny stream.  It can’t be as easy as a duck “takes to water” if the water is frozen.  Hopefully, they will return before Spring.

The first year I walked at Council Point Park, I would peer at the ducks in that branch of the Ecorse Creek daily. As the days got colder, I then enjoyed watching those mallards, who began congregating beneath or near a storm drain for warmth.  That year was the first of two successive wicked Winters and suddenly … poof … all the ducks just vanished by December 2013.  Until the weather finally got too difficult to walk at the Park, I continued to tote bread to toss into the water and faithfully looked for them every time I wandered past “Duck Landing”, as I termed the cement precipice that sat atop the storm drain.  That is where I would stand, the camera in one hand, and a bag of crumbed-up bread in the other, but the ducks were gone for good.  I guess they packed up for a warmer climate, those “lucky ducks”!

I have included a photo that I took when I visited the River’s Edge Marina back on Christmas Day. It was a favorite haunt of mine all Summer, coming a close second to my happy place  – that nature nook called Council Point Park.   It looks a little deserted as the boats are gone from their slips and the bare trees don’t make much of a scenic backdrop for the train as it hurries by.

But the ducks didn’t mind … they barely gave me a passing glance as they were just paddling furiously while the rest of the world was rolling along busy Biddle Avenue.

It’s been ages since I saw my shadow while I was out walking, and, though Ol’ Sol has dared to peek between the clouds later in the day, it is usually long after I’ve returned from my walk and am sitting here pecking away on the keyboard.

I am still toting my camera with me on my daily jaunts, though I must admit that taking pictures has lost some of its appeal. Unlike the Christmas décor, a few hearts here and there for Valentine’s Day aren’t much of a draw to whip out the camera, then, besides the lack of sunshine for the shot, it takes too long to capture the antics of an animated creature when you must first fumble to get the gloves off, plus deal with your frozen fingers.

We sure were spoiled by those mild temps. The weather folks say we had the warmest December on record.  But, we knew it wouldn’t last and now we are smack dab in the middle of this bitter cold spell which has settled in and doesn’t want to budge.

The temperature was 21 degrees with a wind chill of 11 when I left on my walk. I glanced up at the sky a few times and dark gray clouds were looming – it was a snow sky for sure, and an hour or so after I returned from my walk, a fast-moving squall blew through, laid down a dusting of snow and caused some fender benders.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping, so I strolled up and down the aisles at Meijer, but walking through the parking lot, it was blustery out and the wind had a definite bite to it. The store’s dual themes now are Valentine’s Day and tax time.  The massive Christmas decoration display is gone, with all the holiday décor now relegated to one small corner where it stays ‘til they practically give it away.  In its place was a large, wide-open space, soon to be filled with outside furniture, grills and gardening supplies.  The days may be getting longer, but it sure is difficult to think Spring-y thoughts in this bitter cold weather.  It is much too early to think of flowers and plants; after all … my “Spring Hill Nursery” and “Jackson & Perkins” catalogs have not yet arrived!

But, … what has arrived, unbelievably, are the daffodils at a corner house that I pass daily. It must’ve been that warm weather around Christmastime.  Those spiky-looking, pale green leaves are already so tall that they are drooping over.   Maybe the frost nipped at them?  I am sure there are other plants and trees that are confused as well.  I’ve even seen buds on a few magnolia bushes.

Today was garbage day on Emmons Boulevard. I was amazed how many Christmas trees were out at the curb to be picked up.  I didn’t realize so many people still enjoyed a “real” Christmas tree.  As I walked by each one, I was silently naming the type of tree it was,  based on a class in grade school where we first learned the difference between evergreens and deciduous trees.  One homeowner had dragged a short and stubby-looking artificial tree to the curb and I wondered if that obviously fake- ’em-out tree would just get hefted into the City dump truck with no questions asked?

As usual, when I crossed the footbridge I scanned the murky water for any of my feathered friends and noticed there was a light film of ice on the surface. Along the banks of the Creek, a crusty outline of ice was at the water’s edge, no doubt where the water lapped up there, then just froze in place.  About three dozen ducks were gathered in the only spot where there was no thin veil of ice.  I stood and watched them diving in the icy Creek for their breakfast, and they made me shiver just watching them, so I moved on, snug in my down coat and assorted woolen paraphernalia, but all the while wondering how their down feathers really could keep them warm on a cold day like today.

I have wanted to share some of the shots I took on Christmas Day. I believe it was the last sun-filled walk for me.  I took many photos of the Canada geese at the footbridge, along with some ducks paddling around at the River’s Edge Marina that day.   I will add them to my posts over the next few weeks.  This regal-looking fellow separated itself from the rest of the crowd, so I got the opportunity for an up-close shot without any photo bombs of its brethren hissing or flapping their wings in the background.

It’s wishful thinking, but … maybe I’ll just channel Annie and perhaps the sun will come out tomorrow?

It was so tempting this morning to snuggle down further into the warm and comfy bed instead of responding to the alarm clock like Pavlov’s dog. After all … there are some 364 days left in this year, so perhaps a wee break would be in order?

But, before I let those thoughts creep into the crevices of my mind, I decided that eventually there will be reasons why I can’t walk – the weather mostly, the occasional errand, and let’s not forget those pesky weeds which call out to me, even though I usually ignore their pleas the first few times, until they get unsightly, and then I must devote an entire morning to dispensing with them.

So, I got up to take on the world … after coffee and oatmeal, of course.

It was another frigid morning which meant at least one-half hour dressing for and then peeling off all the extra clothes in conjunction with my walk. But, there are really no complaints by me since the snow has stayed at bay – hooray!

I’m still a little turned around by the two holidays falling on successive Fridays … both Fridays have felt like a Saturday to me, so logically, today should be Sunday … and so on. But, it sure feels nice to know there is an extra day before getting back to the grind.

Today’s trek took me to the tracks and back, and, of course I had to steal a glance to see what mischief that chunky squirrel was up to. You might recall I wrote about him and his antics a week ago today: (https://lindaschaubblog.net/2015/12/26/dough-re-me-as-in-me-me-me-me-me/).

As I neared the house, it was soon evident that I was not the only one turned around, because there was quite the turn of events at the feeder station set-up, and, so much so, that I stopped to watch and decided to unbundle myself to reach for the camera to take a photo for this post. Instead of those sweet little sparrows cowering in the bush near the feeder, their tiny, dark-brown bodies hugging the twiggy branches while the squirrel ravaged their food, they were hopping daintily along the rim of the flower pot, and the squirrel was happily gorging himself on the seeds that fell from the feeder and flowed through the pot’s drainage hole onto the grass.  I wanted to applaud the bravado of those fine-feathered friends today, since in the past I’d have likened that scene to Hermey and Yukon Cornelius and the Abominable!

Well, this time there were no ruffled feathers, nor was there fur flying … just amicable feasting.

No more “us versus them” … just the acceptance that “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!”

I was happy to see that the hospitality of the holiday season has exuded warm and fuzzy feelings at the feeding station and evidently “breaking bread” together is now acceptable.

But, the story doesn’t there.

While I was fiddling with my cumbersome gloves to unzip my jacket before everyone departed from the scene, the side door opened and a young woman came out toting a large box. She opened the van door and dropped off her load, then saw me and smiled shyly.  I asked if she had a minute and she said “sure” so I told her how I’ve been watching the interplay of the sparrows and the bully squirrel for several weeks, and even wrote about the “kindly souls” who believed they were doing a good deed for the birds, all the while helping to add inches to that squirrel’s girth.  She laughed out loud and said “I know – we watch it every day from our window – we love the birds, but the squirrel is funny, and there is food enough for everyone, so we just left the stand and pot there!”  I told her I’d “report” on our conversation since the whole scene amused me, as well as some of the followers of my blog.

We wished one another “Happy New Year” and she hopped into the van, and I moved along to my destination. This morning’s adventure yielded smiles for both of us and four more miles for my walking log.