WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

… hello January and a brand-new year!

Mother Nature is finally done tweaking the weather forecast and has settled on more seasonable temps. After yesterday’s cold and blustery walk, I decided I needed to tweak my walking wardrobe a bit too.

Before I left on my first journey of 2016, I threw open the cedar closet to find more warm woolens to wear. One of the advantages, (if there are any), to wearing eyeglasses instead of contact lenses, is that I can wear all those warm and fuzzy sweaters that I had to abandon since the fibers always seemed to land between my eyeball and contact lens.  I put those sweaters in the corner of the cedar closet knowing they’d come in handy one day.  Today was that day.  I pulled out a few of them and trotted back upstairs – hmmm, not bad, so I knew I’d be toasty warm wearing them.  My sweat suits are getting bare after all these years and I hesitate to buy new ones due to the “fuzz factor” … you know, until you wash them a half-dozen times, there is fuzz that goes everywhere when you pull them on or off or even walk through the house.  So, I set out with a sweater with a huge cowl neck, circa the early 90s, and I really could have impersonated a turtle and slunk way down into that slouchy, oversized turtleneck.  Perhaps it might have kept my frozen face warm as it was very cold this morning.

The streets were silent as I started out and it was that way the entire trip. I didn’t see a soul, and, the wind was rattling the various wind chimes along the way, so much in fact, that it sounded like church bells ringing in the distance.

I hadn’t visited Council Point Park in a while and decided that was my destination on the first day of this brand, spanking-new year. The trail was deserted and colder than usual since the bare trees and bushes offer virtually no protection from the wind in those wide-open spaces.  I had a small bag of peanuts squirrelled away for my peanut pals, but there were no takers.  They either partied too long last night, or they preferred to stay hunkered down in their warm nests with their mates.  One loop around and I was done for today.  The frigid air and stiff wind chill were bad enough, but soon after I arrived, the flakes starting flying about, so it was time to head home.  Once inside the warm house, I remembered one of the not-so-great things about wearing eyeglasses was it takes forever for the steam to clear on the lenses when you go from outside to inside.

While I walked along, clad in my warm woolens, I did some serious woolgathering about my resolutions for this year – do I set mini goals or big goals as to walking? Maybe I ought to just go with the flow?  I do aim to try for a five-mile walk in under an hour by Labor Day.  If the Governor can accomplish that feat across the Mackinac Bridge with those stats, so will Linda Schaub.  On Labor Day 2016, it will be five years since I began this walking regimen.  I didn’t keep track of my mileage at first, but we were blessed with a mild and nearly snow-free Winter in 2011-2012, so I trekked to the footbridge nearly every day.  I would not discover Council Point Park until the Spring of 2013, so, when warmer weather arrived, I started extending my forays past the footbridge and down toward the Detroit River.

I have been crunching numbers and based on my walking logs, I figure I’ve walked nearly 2,500 miles to date. I hope I can continue my progress and also to keep those blog posts coming this year and many more years to come.

The year 2016 finds us with an extra day – Leap Day, February 29^th.  So, there are 366 days and possibilities to reckon with.  What will you do with that extra day – how will you spend those precious 1,440 minutes?  Well, I hope it will be doing something that makes you smile.

I leave you with this thought to start off your new year:

“Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.” ~ Joseph Addison

New Year’s Eve pretty much signals the end of the holiday season, just like those firecrackers I keep hearing out of the corner of my ear tell me that 2015 is drawing to a close.

The Christmas songs are now gone, replaced by the usual tunes.

If your Christmas tree is real, by now there are prickly needles all over the house and soon you have the unenviable task of disrobing it and tucking all the ornaments away for next year. Also, you’ll be scrambling up and down on the ladder while your frozen fingers unhook all those holiday lights that you insisted on stringing up when the temps were in the 60s.

Cedar and pine boughs which were once festive and fragrant smelling are now dry and withered. Nearly a week of gusty winds have scattered the bedraggled-looking bows, which formerly pinned garlands along fences, and, now they are littering the sidewalks and streets.

But, despite those wicked winds and all that freezing rain earlier this week, this morning I noted that the life-sized, seemingly anatomically-correct, cement statues on Emmons Boulevard still have their jaunty Santa caps in place. That’s a good thing because experts say that the first place you lose body heat is your head and it’s a sure bet those flimsy cement undergarments aren’t helping those two guys to stay warm.  You might remember I first wrote about these statues way back on a stifling hot day in June, when their scanty clothing, or, near lack thereof, was more appropriate:

( https://lindaschaubblog.net/2015/06/11/bawdy-er-body-conscious/)

Even though Christmas still reigns up and down Emmons Boulevard, one home already has its Valentine’s Day paraphernalia festooning the front door with red “clingy” heart decals and hearts aplenty on a huge flag.

There were very few people out this morning – they were probably sleeping in in advance of tonight’s festivities.  In fact, only a handful of cars quietly passed me, and the only honking I heard was the unmistakable call of a Canada Goose as I neared the border of Wyandotte and Lincoln Park.  He was huge as he glided right over me and soon thereafter made a splash landing into the Creek.  Once I got to the footbridge, I looked over and he was the only goose swimming in the murky water, so he needn’t have announced his arrival with such gusto.

It was a very cold journey today and tiny icy pellets were stinging my face by the time I got home – it was a far cry from the mild temps we enjoyed just a week ago.  I finished up four miles and scurried into the house to warm up.

The party’s over … for me anyway. As for others, technically not ‘til the wee hours of Friday morn.  But for me, who strived to stride until that last day in 2015, I have unlaced my well-worn walking shoes the last time this year.

But wait … before I go, I must share my stats for 2015 with you first.

These feet indeed have a feat to talk about, since they have travelled some 718 miles in 2015.  Admittedly, they do look a little worse for the wear, having trod over sidewalks and streets, grassy banks and leaf-covered alcoves, asphalt paths, and up and down the aisles of Meijer grocery store as well.  So, instead of primping for a party tonight, and painting my toenails in a trending fuchsia tone then slipping into strappy sandals, I was ready to soak my feet and prop them up on a footstool instead.

When the year began, my primary goal for 2015 was to beat my miles walked last year (565). I got a slow start due to the Wintry weather and then progress was halted by that super snowfall on Super Bowl Sunday – that about killed any walking for the next month.  Besides my ultimate goal, on January 1^st I set a series of mini goals to be accomplished by each holiday.  But Easter, then Memorial Day passed and I was sorely behind.  I finally got to 200 miles on July 2^nd, but once again I fell short of my intended goal of 250 miles by 4^th of July weekend.  Amazingly, it took me the first half of the year to even walk 200 miles, but the second half I walked 500 plus miles!  I salute El Nino for helping me out in that regard.

Of course, once again for the fourth year in a row, I’ve beaten the amount of miles I drove in my car, which this year was 347.

Tomorrow, I’ll start a new walking log and begin anew, and I’ll talk about it once again, and maybe even top this year’s 177 blog posts.

Before I began writing this post, I looked back at my New Year’s resolutions for 2015:

* * *

I resolve this year to walk more, worry less and to write more and whine less. Whether or not those resolutions get accomplished during the course of the upcoming year is yet to be determined, but they sound good on paper anyway.

* * *

Whew – that’s a lot of walkin’ and talkin’, eh?  Not bad for an old gal about to enter her 60^th year.

 Cheers!

“You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream.” ~ C.S. Lewis

The title of this post is simply a twist on the show tune “Do-Re-Mi” which is featured in the “Sound of Music”. On the day after Christmas, you get the dough, and suddenly … it is all about you.  Now, this post could be construed as the shoppers who have bought gifts for everyone on their list and now find it is time to indulge their every whim, or, a whimsical tale about a savvy squirrel who is all about making himself happy and the heck with anyone else.

* *  *

Now that Christmas is over, once again the mad dash to the mall has begun anew. Before I even left the house, the newscasters were talking about the heavy traffic near the malls as everyone’s cash or holiday gift cards are burning a hole in their pocket, or, they are eager to swap a gift they don’t like for something that they really want.  The sales are also predicted to be spectacular today.

I took the car for a little spin before I left on my walk, and as I rolled along Fort Street, I saw that the line of customers waiting for Mickey Shorr to open, snaked along the front of the store and down the side street. Maybe they were hoping to get a remote car starter installed, sooner rather than later, since I hear these wonderful warm temps will soon come to a screeching halt.

In fact, today’s weather sure was a return to reality as to what Winter weather feels like. It was cold and gusty and I found myself walking more quickly than usual.

Today, I wanted to share a story about a savvy squirrel whom I’ve been monitoring the past few weeks in my treks down Emmons Boulevard.

The first time I saw this squirrel, he was sitting in a large, empty flower pot underneath two bird feeders that were hanging on a shepherd’s hook. The placement of the pot and the proximity of two, fully loaded squirrel-proof bird feeders was ultra-convenient to this furry critter.  He sat right in the middle of the pot, then I watched him shimmy up the pole, reach over to tip each feeder to the side, and then shake out birdseed through the holes where the perches are situated for the small birds to eat.  I actually stopped to watch his actions.  He had it down to an art:  shimmy, shake and enjoy.  Someone please plug up the pot’s drainage hole to make it easier for this poor critter to eat.  And … once he had his fill of birdseed, then he ran like heck down the sidewalk and out of sight.

On that particular day, I didn’t take the camera with me as it was foggy and misty out, so I left it behind. But, I was determined to get a picture of him in action, since his antics really gave me a laugh and were a shake-my-head moment.  I wondered then, as I do now, if the homeowners believe the birds are filling their faces on the birdseed in the squirrel-proof feeder?  I wanted to knock on the door and tell these kindly souls “guess what?”

So, every time I’ve walked past the house, my head would swivel to this same scene and I always had the camera with me. Nine times out of ten when I walked past, this chubby squirrel was either shaking the cage around the feeder, inside the pot chomping on birdseed, or down on the ground eating the fallen seed.  Of course, the birds are always nearby and watching him devour their food.  Perhaps I should have entitled this post “The feast:  the birds and the beast!”

There’s one in every crowd … whether it was at your holiday dinner yesterday – you know, that fat uncle who bullies everyone with his long overreach for the extra-large scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy, or whining for that second piece of pie, even though he’s already undone the top button on his pants. I know I’ve seen that in my day, too.

I chocked up another four miles walked today as I hustled down the Boulevard. As you might suspect, I glanced over to the Creek, just as I crossed the footbridge and a handful of ducks were on the opposite side, but not a single Canada goose was to be found.  I think they vamoosed to warmer climes – they heard the same weather forecast I did.

Well, the big holiday has finally arrived. Of course, despite the fact that it is Christmas Day, you cannot help but notice that the landscape doesn’t resemble a vintage print by Currier and Ives, but instead, the grass is lush and green and still scattered with leaves.  Shortly after I set out on my walk today, I saw a couple of young girls on pogo sticks bopping  along the sidewalk, and, nearby, in Ford Park, a young man was shooting hoops.  This year, skates and sleds under the Christmas tree would be worthy of a snicker or two.

While strolling down Emmons Boulevard, I saw passersby, wreathed in smiles, who gushed “Merry Christmas” even though I’d never seen them before. Of course I waved and responded in kind … there are no strangers on holidays and it’s all good.

I took tidbits of old bagels and bread heels to throw out to any lucky waterfowl at the footbridge. As I approached the bridge, I suddenly was happy I had the camera with me, because not only were there mallards, but about thirty Canada geese as well.  I quickly positioned myself with the camera and my bag of treats.  To my dismay, however, the geese and ducks started heading in the opposite direction, once they saw the hulking human in the salmon-colored down coat lurking on the footbridge.  I quickly opened the bag and skipped some bagel chunks across the water.  They double-backed in a matter of seconds, so I offloaded some more treats which were greedily gulped down.  So, it was a lucky day for both of us, as they got an unexpected treat and I got a ton of up-close shots of them congregating in the Creek.

Finally, I tore myself away and next headed down to the River and over to the marina where it was quiet, save for a few ducks that swam in circles around the dock pilings. I lingered there awhile, taking some more pictures, and, soon a bicyclist came over and stopped to ask what got my attention.  “Just the ducks in this peaceful setting” I said.  He watched awhile as well.  He agreed that it was an idyllic scene, then wished me “Merry Christmas” and quite unexpectedly grabbed my hand and shook it before he quickly hopped back on his bike and headed off for parts unknown.  I began to feel warm and fuzzy all over, and it wasn’t just my Winter woolens.

I arrived home wreathed in smiles from adding more miles to my 2015 walking log, plus I had a definite glow from the walk in the chilly air as well as the glad tidings. The wreaths featured above, are just a few of the many beautiful wreaths that adorn the stately homes along Emmons Boulevard.

Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart. – Washington Irving

Merry Christmas everyone.

… by stopping to pause and take a moment from your busy day.

 Of all the Christmas décor I’ve seen during my treks, I’ve admired this beautiful crèche on Emmons Boulevard the most. The whole nativity scene is only a couple of feet wide and sits on a porch.  It is just a simple wooden stable and the figures of Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus inside are actually very small.  The day I took this photo, the sky was dull and dreary and the lighting was poor, so, I really didn’t expect much out of the shot.  I was pleasantly surprised … it might be the best photo I took all year.

Blessings to you and yours on this special night and best wishes for a Merry Christmas. – Linda

… and they won’t be settling down to any games or grog ‘til Santa delivers the last present in the wee hours of Christmas morning. This is because Santa Claus and his team of tiny reindeer are still travelling around the world and won’t be in North America for a long time yet according to NORAD (http://www.noradsanta.org/).  He’s a busy guy, that Santa Claus.  NORAD can tell you just how many presents he’s delivered since he began his long journey earlier today – Whew!  And, he only gets to spend just 0.0000325419 seconds at each household around the globe.  I’d say that’s very impressive for that jolly old elf.

And, I have some impressive stats for myself too. As to this old gal, she has already finished up her coveted 700-mile trek, though it was considerably less miles than Santa and his A-team will have accomplished.  Your roving reporter marked 700 miles walked in 2015 on this chilly Thursday morning.  I won’t give you my final tally until year end, just in case I can rack up a few more miles, if my tender tootsies don’t mind and Mother Nature continues to cooperate.

I woke up feeling very lucky since we were unscathed by the wicked winds that blew into Southeast Michigan yesterday, especially Canton Township where a tornado touched down. Across the U.S. people are picking up the pieces of their homes and vehicles … and their lives … on this day before Christmas.

On my walk this morning there was plenty of evidence that high winds had whisked into our neck of the woods. I passed several homes whose Christmas décor features multiple inflatables on their front lawn.  One home is filled with Disney characters and most of those decorations were askew.  I noted that Pluto’s oversized head was listing to the left (which might have just passed as a “head tilt”) and Mickey Mouse, wearing an oversized elf cap, was tipped all the way backward onto the lawn as if he was sleeping.  As I strolled down Emmons Boulevard, many of the delicate white wire trees and reindeer had rolled across the front lawns, some even dragging their long electrical cords with them.  The nutcracker soldiers, whose photo I featured on my December 22^nd  blog post, were face down in the muddy garden.

It could have been worse I guess, but everyone will need to scramble quickly so Santa isn’t disappointed in the decorations which will herald his arrival tonight. I, too, need to impress Santa, since my decorations are a little lame this year, so, I’m off now to get dinner done and over with and head to bed early, long before his anticipated arrival.  Santa will find some cookies and strawberry milk and a few handfuls of carrots for the reindeer at the Schaub house.

There’s no harm in still believing, right?

Backward, turn backward, time in your flight; make me a child again … just for tonight. ~ Elizabeth Akers Allen

Well today is the official first day of Winter, though you wouldn’t know it … not that I am complaining mind you. While the tail end of December would usually find a Michigander swiping snowflakes off their nose and creating a pathway with a booted foot or large snow shovel, we are enjoying Spring-like temps once again.

When I left for my walk on this murky morning, it was 50 degrees. I was happy, because, after a solid day of rain yesterday, it promised to dawn dry this morning.  It was a different story, once I got suited up and outside though, as there was a fine mist and it was a mite foggy too.  Well, I had my heart set on getting to that 700-miles-walked goal, so I just went out anyway.  But, walking in the rain has never been my shtick and, though 50 degrees was mild, I felt a little silly muddling along in the puddles for the sake of a personal triumph, when we have another nine days left in 2015.

So, no slacking on my part, just turning back toward home and hoping for better weather tomorrow, along with a vow to keep soldiering on.

This pair of nutcrackers are the Christmas decorations on a porch on Emmons Boulevard – since I took the picture last week, they now are front and center in the garden, guarding the front door with their grinless and stalwart gaze.

Just like this vintage picture above, I’ve been feeling a mite nostalgic these days.

Well, there’s nothing wrong with that – after all, that’s what the holidays should do – evoke a lot of nice memories from yesteryear, as well as creating beautiful moments today to cherish later.

Last night I was listening to WJR’s 50^th annual Christmas sing.  Members of the radio station’s staff gathered at Campus Martius in downtown Detroit to sing Christmas carols.  Their group, plus the large crowd, were not exactly like those traditional Victorian carolers, but, the somewhat off-tune voices made me a little nostalgic nonetheless, since that singalong triggered a few nice memories from my past.

For years, as a member of a Brownie troop, I’d pin a big sparkly Christmas corsage on my drab-looking uniform and accompany my fellow Brownies to entertain the seniors at the local nursing homes. As a student who attended the Ontario Conservatory of Music, all of its pupils practiced long hours together on their various instruments, in order to give polished holiday recitals also at local nursing homes during the holidays.  I could play a mean “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” on my accordion back in the day.

I know I often take a fond lookback at memories, Christmas or otherwise, in this blog. Many of those fine moments center around my family … and food.  Often, just a whiff of a particular food will evoke some pleasant thoughts – look at the apple and cinnamon smell story I told you last week.

I was in Meijer a few weeks ago picking up a few items and getting my walk in around the store. I resisted the urge later that day to write a post about how the trending gifts for kids this year seemed to be all Star Wars related.  With fondness, I remember getting a new dolly and a wardrobe for her every Christmas; later, when I was older, it was Barbie and friends and their outfits and accessories.  Sometimes, there was a make-believe shopping cart or an Easy Bake oven to pretend you were like Mommy.  Back then, little boys coveted trucks or trains or a stick horse to play “Cowboys and Indians” and getting those types of gifts made them giddy.  So, lightsabers and LEGO Star Wars Death Star™ Final Duel toys just don’t seem very Christmassy to me.

But enough of me – I sometimes think that I belong in another era and that I’d like to jump off this world as it spins too fast for me.

That same day I was in Meijer, I decided to pick up a few treats to enjoy at the holidays. I don’t eat sweets anymore, but I usually pick up a quart of custardy-rich eggnog and get a few boxes of Jell-O pudding in their limited-edition holiday flavors.

But first, I needed to pick up a can of Pam cooking oil spray to coat my new snow shovel which I christened in that freak snow storm we had back on November 21^st.  It was a little frustrating when the snow refused to leave the blade, and, then I remembered an old trick of spraying Pam cooking oil on the blade and the snow will slide right off.

I strolled over to the baking section where I saw almost everything was on sale. I snagged a bag of mini marshmallows to make up some ambrosia salad, and noticed the raisins were on sale for a song, so I tucked a few boxes in the crook of my arm because I eat oatmeal with raisins every morning for breakfast.

Next, I hustled over to the cooking oils and sprays where I quickly perused the Pam … it used to be simple, one type of cooking oil spray, but now it comes in butter spray as well as oils like coconut, canola and olive. Sighing, I reached for a can, when a woman came rushing up next to me and said “oh good – they’ve still got plenty of Pam because they’re on sale you know?”  I said “I didn’t know ‘til now and I just needed one can” whereupon she proceeded to tell me, somewhat breathlessly, just how many batches of cookies, and what types, she would be making over the next several weeks.  I didn’t want to be rude, so I smiled and said “sounds delicious – your family is lucky they have you” and then she asked what I would be baking.  “Um,” I stammered, while thinking I was no match for this Martha Stewart wannabe.  I found myself blurting out “oatmeal raisin cookies” which truthfully sounded a little lame next to her Christmas cookie aspirations.    She just said “that’s nice” and which condescending statement left me feeling like I was truly devoid of any domestic genes in my body.

I started to walk away, when she saw the marshmallows peeking out from between the boxes of raisins which I still cradled in my forearm. She decided to try a cooking conversation again and pointedly asked “what do you do with the marshmallows?” as she gestured with her finger at them.  I just blurted out “Rice Crispy Treat Christmas wreaths for my little boy” crossing my fingers that the answer pacified her, and then I said “gotta go – happy holidays to you.”  So, I left the conversation somewhat dejected and feeling inadequate as a cook, which is basically how I feel most of the time, which is why I don’t subject myself to heavy lifting in the baking or cooking department.

I returned to the pudding section where I forgot all about the holiday Jell-O flavors after I spied a box of tapioca pudding. Suddenly, I had a colossal craving for that creamy taste and imagined what a special treat it would be on a cold, blustery and snowy Winter day when I was hunkered down in the house.  I checked the ingredients and the preparation … it looked easy enough, so I snatched up that box of tapioca beads in a heartbeat.  What fond memories I have of a glass dessert dish filled with “fish eyes and glue” with a red or green maraschino cherry on top.

To me, pudding is like comfort food. My mom used to make rice pudding that’d be brimming with raisins and full of spices, or, perhaps there was bread pudding, with its delicious scent wafting through the house while it was baking as I came through the door after school or work.  One special treat about being an only child is that you always get handed a tablespoon to finish up the dregs of pudding in the saucepan; you always get to lick the beaters; or, my personal favorite … you get to enjoy the crispy au gratin crust on baked macaroni or shepherd’s pie that Mom peeled off and slapped on a dish and said “blow on it first before you eat it.”  Yup, the pure joy of no siblings clamoring for these goodies, so there was no need to share.  It is a wonder I was not a roly-poly child.

Today, I awoke to sidewalks and streets filled with crispy precipitation. The reports of traffic incidents on black ice-slickened side streets and expressways kept me on the inside looking out – why risk walking on icy, snow-encrusted sidewalks?

I decided that today was the day to make that tapioca pudding.

I gathered my ingredients together, salivating at the thought of that creamy goodness. Perhaps I would segregate one serving for tomorrow and eat the rest of the pudding out of the pot … just like old times.

I followed the instructions to the letter, and soon that intoxicating smell of vanilla extract filled the air with a wonderful aroma. But, something went terribly wrong when my tablespoon was sticking straight up in the saucepan, without any assistance from me.  The pearls were a little gummy and the pudding was the consistency of wallpaper paste.  I shook my head in disbelief.

Tomorrow, I’ll strain out the gooey “eyes” and use the pudding to seal down those pesky wallpaper seams that threaten to separate and try to curl up.

I’ve learned my lesson … next time I’ll leave the box at the store and the memories in my mind.

This morning was a rude reminder that we are nearing the first day of Winter, and, that despite being an average of 25 degrees above normal the past few weeks, Mother Nature likes to show you she is in charge.

Since it was at the freezing mark when I left for a walk, I switched to a down parka and added a scarf to my clothing repertoire, but I was still cold and found myself walking at a brisker pace than usual.

I noted, as I walked down Emmons Boulevard, that the pooches going for their respective promenades were sporting cold-weather garb. I saw a few dapper-looking hounds in plaid flannel jackets, cinched tight at the belly – they looked a little uncomfortable in my opinion, kind of like how you feel in tight jeans, where you want to unfasten the snap – ahhh, that’s much better.

Then there were some smaller dogs encased in warm, woolen sweaters, and not the ugly Christmas sweater variety. I cannot believe the story on the news today that ugly Christmas sweaters for dogs are a hot item this year – just what man’s best friend needs, a green-and-red sweater emblazoned with “Feliz Navidog”.  At least a half-dozen dogs I passed on my walk were decked out in their finery.  Only one dog was just relying on his fur for warmth, while looking with disdain at his doggie counterparts, those namby-pambies with their toasty togs.  Well, that’s because he was a large pit bull terrier, wearing a muzzle.  Well, ‘nuff said.

I love the holiday décor on the stately homes on Emmons Boulevard and I’ve taken many pictures over the last week. I hope to share them in future posts as we enter Christmas week.  One house near the railroad tracks has quite an assortment of inflatable ornaments that fill the entire front lawn of their home.  I really like Mrs. and Mrs. Snowman pictured above.  They are as tall as the roof at this home.  Their presence made me wonder if kids are missing the snow and the opportunities to build snowmen, pitch snowballs and make snow angels … perhaps they are content to get their snowman fix by watching “Frosty the Snowman” on TV.

I added another four miles to my total and am keeping the (snow)ball rolling as I strive to get to 700 miles, which hopefully is in the very near future. That feat of my feet will make me, just like Frosty, a very happy soul.

You already know my affinity for my feathered friends – I talk it about it enough in my blog posts. The ducks quackin’ me up as they play in the Creek, the sweet warbling on a sunny Summer day, or even the cheeping I hear up high in a tall tree on a wintry morning.  These sounds cannot help but make me feel good and I know that is all is right in my world.

This morning, with its not-quite-seasonal temps, dawned in a splash of color across the sky. I was grateful that it was not rainy like Monday morning, so I got ready quickly to scoot out the door … just in case Mother Nature changed her mind.  On cue, just like a choir serenading its congregation, the birdie babble greeted me as I walked out the door.  This time, it was coming from my neighbor Marge’s house where birds of a feather cluster around her many feeders.

And, here I am, all these hours later, still thinking about birds – in fact, I’m surrounded by them here in the kitchen. There are ducks aplenty on the corner cabinet, cardinals and blue jay trivets on the wall, mom and pop rooster grace the top of the fridge and a slew of wild ducks parade along the tip tops of the cupboards.  They are ceramic, and a little dusty … but I digress.

I am sitting at my computer and the sweet strains of Christmas music are in the background. I only wanted to hear the news – on one station was a basketball game, and soon the hubbub of still another debate took over the airwaves.  So, instead, I switched the stations, and Christmas music has filled the kitchen tonight.

Buddy, my canary, is singing to the songs – the slow ones he usually passes up and goes for a nibble of canary food, toasted bagel or lettuce, or perhaps a sip of water to wet his pipes and gear him up for the next song. I could call him Ba-ba-Buddy as he sings in harmony with Bing’s bass-baritone – personally, I think Buddy loves the birdsong in the background more than the actual crooning in “White Christmas”.

He also really gets into “Sleigh Ride” with the whinny of the horse at the very end and “The Twelve Days of Christmas” … but, after all, that’s a song mostly about his brethren.

Buddy is a bird filled with joy and he fills the kitchen with his song all day long as I tap tap tap away over here on the keyboard. If the phone rings, singing accompanies my conversation and callers cannot help but remark on how happy he is.

It was five years ago today Buddy came to this house. He was a little nervous when he first got here, probably because of the big ol’ human instead of his brothers and sisters who all shared a cage at Feed-Rite Pet Shop.  He’d plop right into his canary dish to eat, until I told him that was uncouth, and there was no one else he needed to share with.  He doesn’t always listen though as you see above.

When Buddy was first here, he used to go to sleep every night after dinner because the pet shop closed promptly, with lights out, every night at 7:00 p.m. The first few weeks, I’d look over and see heavy eyes, then soon thereafter his mop-top head was tucked underneath his wing and he was standing on one leg fast asleep.  Buddy eventually stopped going to bed with the chickens and began to enjoy his high seat on the counter where he will check out what’s happening and get into the occasional mischief, all the while being loved and spoiled like crazy.  If I leave the kitchen and walk down the hall, I am serenaded when I come back into the room again.

To me Buddy looks and acts as if he is perpetually smiling … a bird so full of joy it is spilling over and he puts me in a better frame of mind – every day, and in every way.

A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song. ~Maya Angelou