WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Hurrah for that!  I got up early this morning, thinking that maybe I could just scurry out for a quick walk and beat the snow event that was targeted to begin at 9:00 a.m.

While still in my pjs, I peered through the peephole and all I could see was a slight smattering of snow on some of the vehicles parked near my house.  Well, that was promising.  Plus, it was 33 degrees – though I can’t remember all those things I learned way back in grade school some 50 plus (ahem) years ago, I do remember that water freezes at 32 degrees, so I figured I was good to go.

Before I left, I went downstairs to explore the cedar closet for some warm woolens and polar fleece items in my collection of toasty togs from my bus-riding days.  In the back of the closet, I discovered an old pair of heavy stirrup pants.  I had forgotten all about them; they were a godsend during the many years I took the bus.  So, I decided I’d wear them today on my walk.  However, wrangling and getting into those stretch pants, was about as difficult as the first time I tried wearing pantyhose back in the day.   I was hoping to get out the door fairly quickly and could not seem to get the front seams lined up on those pants!  I pulled them this way and that, however, I ended up having seams going west and east instead of in perfect vertical lines down the front of my legs.  I soon grew exasperated and just left them “as is”, and, it was about that time I decided all these years later, I could now commiserate when my mom would complain how the seams in her nylon stockings did not line up just so.  I remember I’d watch her struggle and just be glad I didn’t have that problem with my leotards.  Finally, I was ready to head out, despite the sinking feeling like I should be walking backward in those silly stirrup pants.

The pavement was damp, but there was no ice and I was able to stride confidently in my walking shoes – no need to christen the new hiking/snow boots yet.  It was really cloudy and I glanced upward as I walked along.  Those low-hanging gray clouds certainly suggested a snow sky and I walked rather quickly to get four miles in so I could return home before the sky opened up and spit out all those promised snowflakes.

Down to the train tracks was the plan and as I passed over the footbridge that separates Lincoln Park and Wyandotte,  I looked over to see a large group of mallards congregating near the reeds.  I was sorry I hadn’t thought to take along some bread for them in my haste to get while the gettin’ was good.  Those ducks just paddled along in the still water, totally oblivious to the impending weather forecast.

After pausing a few minutes, I left the bridge and hurried along.  I soon realized I was the only person walking down Emmons Boulevard  this morning – even the dog walkers were sleeping in.  Perhaps everyone was at the grocery store trying to beat the crowd and the inclement weather as they gathered up their Thanksgiving Day vittles.

I got to the tracks and turned on my heel to head back, and soon I noticed spots of precip on my sleeve.  I couldn’t tell if it was liquid or frozen crystals, but I picked up the pace a bit at that point.  As I neared my neighborhood, the sky opened up and suddenly flurries galore dotted my clothes.  I hustled into the house, glad to have gotten the miles in before the snow intensified.

[Image by photographer Dreamy Pixel at Life of Pix]

… and puffy parkas and heavy, lug-soled boots.

Winter is on the horizon, but wait … it is not on the calendar for another month yet.  The weather folks are all hyped up about Winter Storm Bella that is slated to slam us in the overnight hours and through the day tomorrow – right now we define the arrival of this two-to-four-inch snowfall as “slammin’ us” since it is the first snow of the season.  But, just wait, El Nino or not, by the time we reach February two to four inches of snow is really nothing special; it’s just another ho-hum snow event.

This morning was brrrrrrrrrrrrrisk to be sure.  Halfway on my three-mile excursion, I stopped to flip up the collar of my polo shirt, not to look preppy, but because my neck was cold, so a turtleneck sweater or a warm scarf is in order before the next jaunt out – in fact, now all the “big guns” must come out – the heavyweight gear.

Tomorrow morning I need to hunt down some warmer accessories and getting out the Winter coat is a must.  Thus far, I’ve resisted donning a bulky Winter coat because quite frankly it wasn’t really necessary.  I’d just pile on a layer or two more under my sweatshirt jacket and I was just comfortable.  But tomorrow morning, I must get prepared for the onslaught of Winter weather – ugh.

The wind seemed to whip right through the fibers in my loosely knit hat and I pulled it down further onto my ears against the biting wind.  I thought of my mom as I walked along because she would be working her knitting needles furiously every Fall to create a handmade toque with matching mitts and scarf from the time I was a little tyke.  Back then, as soon as it was cold enough, I’d be straining at the bit to wear my new “woolen gear”.  Besides the new hand-knit creations, I carried a little hand-knitted bag with a drawstring in my coat pocket; it was just big enough to slip in a tube of “Lipsol” (the Canadian version of “ChapStick”) and a hanky to be ready for those inevitable sniffles from the cold air hitting your face (because “a lady never sniffs, she dabs at her nose”) – so, with those items I was set to weather the weather.

There is just something wrong when the snow flies before the leaves have all been disposed of.  Our last yard waste pickup is next week and all the trees have not yet shook their leaves loose  There are leaf-stained sidewalks galore and they are just begging for the clean and pristine snow to wipe those ugly spots off.  Me … I’d rather just look at those leaf-stained sidewalks and walk on them and not go slip-slidin’ away.

… and it doesn’t sit right with me.  I’d be just as happy to see those new walking boots languishing in their box in the closet, rather than on my feet as I plod through the snow.  I say this even though I was happy to buy them so that I might continue the walking regimen right through the entire Winter season.   Well … the snow was bound to happen soon or later.  It’s just that we’ve had such a glorious Fall, why spoil it with snow?

Keeping up with the trend all week, the temps were mild but a little breezy when I left the house on my walk.  Down to the train tracks and back was all I could muster this morning since I turned off the alarm and laid my head back down “just for a minute” and awoke with a start almost an hour later.  Oops!  And, then it seemed I was playing catch-up all day long to recover that lost time.

Along the way in Wyandotte, it was garbage day and there were many people raking furiously to get all those leaves bagged and to the curb by the time the truck came by.  Some of the homes with large properties and multiple trees had as many as twenty or more yard waste bags lined up in neat rows near the curb.  You can tell everyone’s favorite big box store or grocery store by the name emblazoned on the bag.  I had to grin when I saw the yard waste bags from Lowe’s that said “Whew, I’m stuffed!” and indeed they were crammed full to the brim with crinkly leaves.  See … stuffed is not just equated with turkeys and how you feel after Thanksgiving dinner.

But don’t despair that all has withered and fallen off or died on the vine because I saw a magnolia tree with buds ready to burst and roses that are still beautifully in bloom extending our Indian Summer one day at a time.  I leave you with this thought:

Some of the days in November carry the whole memory of Summer as a fine opal carries the color of moonrise. – Gladys Taber

There were many descriptions for this beautiful Sunday – I simply called it “Sunnyday” instead of “Sunday”, but it was also stupendous, super, spectacular – well, you get the picture.  It doesn’t get much better for mid-November in Southeast Michigan.  Today is the beginning of firearms deer hunting  season and unless the hunters headed to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, it will be difficult to track those deer without snow.

I left a little later than usual and the sun was already beaming.  Within a few blocks of the house I realized I was way overdressed and getting warmish.  I probably should have gone home to lose some layers, but I didn’t want to lose momentum.

Just about the time I flung open my coat and pulled off my gloves, I noticed a man vigorously raking leaves from under a humungous maple tree.  As I neared him, I saw the biggest rake I’ve ever seen propped up against his hip, while he held it steady with his foot.  He was mopping his brow from all that hard work.  Since he was in shirtsleeves, I remarked “you don’t often get to do yardwork in November in shirtsleeves!”  He grinned and said “after I finish here I’m going to play a round of golf” … I think everyone is enjoying this latest Indian Summer.

When I left the house, I was a bit indecisive where to walk on this beautiful day – a couple of loops at the Park, or go to the marina?  I finally decided on Council Point Park and saw, upon entering the parking lot, that a lot of people had the same idea as me.  I waved “hello” to a few of the regulars and of course the main topic of conversation was the beautiful weather.  I noticed many of the trees along the trail are now bare, yet some of them still have green leaves; the many evergreens also provided a hint of color to the landscape.

Two loops around the Park and then I stopped at Memorial Park to extend my leisurely stroll just a little longer, but … finally it was time to head home, having added five miles to my total and enjoyed nature’s offerings.

I’m sharing this photo of a harvest wreath that hangs on a fence which I pass on my daily trek – I think this little felt fellow just personifies this beautiful Fall day.

It was a hold-onto-your-hat kind of day since those wicked winds continued to howl and send leaves scattering every which way.  The gusts might have picked my hat from my head and blew it along the street if I hadn’t pulled it way down over my ears until it met the top of my glasses.  Well, that wasn’t really a good look for me, but at least that hat wasn’t going anywhere – that’s for sure.

Despite the windy conditions, I still managed to eke out a trip to the Creek and barely stray into Wyandotte.  Maybe I should clarify that phrase to say “eek” out a trip because when you take a gander at the cast of characters above, that seems to be the more appropriate description – besides, it is also Friday the 13^th.

Actually, as I was still curled up in bed under the warm blanket listening to the wind, I wondered if I should just skip the walk … should I even venture out on this Friday the 13^th?  After much consternation,  the idea of topping that 600-mile mark indeed lured me outside.  I knew I needed 4,000 steps, or two miles, to make it to 600 miles walked for 2015.  Back when I first began my walking regimen in 2011, my daily trek was down Emmons Boulevard, then I’d pause at the footbridge over the Ecorse Creek to see if there were any ducks there to enjoy my bread tidbits I’d brought along and finally I’d turn around to head home.  Back then I must confess I felt pretty smug about that daily 2¼ mile walk in the dead of Winter, though you may recall the Winter of 2011-2012 was one of the mildest on record.

There is a large house on the corner just before you get to the footbridge.  Every year the homeowners adorn the tall wooden fence which runs along the property line with a series of seven different scarecrows.  They make me smile when I walk past them.  This motley crew has been “hanging out” since September and will remain there until the Christmas decorations go up.

Even though the early morning rain had dampened the pavement, it was starting to dry courtesy of the wind gusts, though it died down considerably by the time I left on my walk.  I navigated around the wind and managed to steer clear of black cats and ladders and things that go bump in the … day.  I am happy to report that thus far we remain unscathed by that wicked wind and I must tell you that I held my breath yesterday at 9:51 a.m. when suddenly the house went dark and it was instantly silent as the fridge, furnace and radio went off.  I didn’t make a move to grab a flashlight, but just stood there in the dark in disbelief.  There wasn’t even a peep from Buddy as I guess he took his cue from me.  Within a few minutes the power returned, thankfully, and the only thing amiss was the stove clock which was a few minutes behind.

I made it home before any snowflakes flew, though I know other parts of Michigan got their first taste of snow today.  As to me, well, I am eagerly awaiting another Indian Summer before the snow flies.

Today was Veterans Day – a time to honor our men and women who fought for this country.

In the words of the famous poet Maya Angelou:  “how important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!”

I started to choose a stock photo to accompany today’s post, but my childhood friend, artist Maggie Rust, changed her Facebook profile picture to feature her latest acrylic painting “Lest We Forget – 2015”, so that is where this pretty poppies photo originates.

The early morning hours today were thick like pea soup and I could hear the foghorn some two miles away sounding its ominous call for anyone out on the Wyandotte waterways.

But, finally, when it was time to leave, the fog had lifted, but it was still a tad murky out and when I passed Ford Park, the trees looked spindly and seemed to fade away in ghost-like images.

The rain yesterday took its toll on the leaves which had previously been skittering around the streets and lawns and now they were glommed onto the sidewalk, all wet and slippery.  I really had to pay attention while walking so I didn’t wipe out.

It seemed that the more delicate annuals, especially those still in porch pots, took a direct hit between the rain and the frost because they were looking withered and bedraggled today.  That is, all but the Flowering Kale in one homeowner’s front garden – it is still as bright and vibrant as it was in mid-Summer.  I wended my way down through Wyandotte, to the railroad tracks and back – that being part one of my trek.

The last leg of my journey ended with a trip to Memorial Park to visit the memorial for the City’s war dead from World War II and the Korean and Vietnam Wars.  In recent years they have been refurbishing the three old bronze plaques on the memorial, and I noted they’ve added a new name to the Korean War dead plaque.  The name looks out of place with its stark-white lettering as the other names on the list have long since gone from a pleasant-looking patina to a darkened brass.

It is still difficult for me to remember that Veterans Day here in America is used to celebrate the lives of living veterans and their service to our country, in contrast to Memorial Day which honors those who perished in various wars to date.  In Canada where I grew up, a day to honor our war dead occurred on November 11^th, but was called Remembrance Day.  It was a day to remember any deceased war hero and everyone wore their soft, flocked poppy proudly.  As a young child, I can remember my mom pinning my poppy on my school outfit and carefully laying a handkerchief over it, so it would not come loose from my clothes and drop into the street as I walked to school.  Everyone was sporting poppies in the weeks leading up to Veterans Day.  I recall, as schoolchildren we would observe a few minutes of silence in the morning and we’d bow our heads in prayer for those lives lost in war.

But sadly, there was no one at the memorial today – there never is, except during the Memorial Day parade and post-parade services when a trio of wreaths are propped up at the foot of the large stone memorial – one wreath for each war.

Though I’ve never lost any family or friends due to war, my heart goes out to those who have suffered the tragedy that war often brings.

If you have ever taken a stroll along the water’s edge in Wyandotte (as pictured above), or even on Detroit’s own Riverwalk, you probably will not have to wait too long before a freighter appears on the horizon. Soon the shipping season will come to a halt once the waters freeze over and the freighters that sail the Great Lakes will cease their travels until the shipping season opens again in late March.

You don’t have to be interested in admiralty law, or even be in the maritime business, to recognize the beauty of these large freighters and realize the enormity of the valuable cargo they transport. Anyone can appreciate their size and their competent crews who ease them through the sometimes turbulent waters.

One of the common pastimes for executives, in corner offices that overlook the Detroit River in Downtown Detroit, is to indulge in spotting and identifying freighters by their trademark flags or smokestacks. Savvy wanna-be sailors read “Know Your Ships”, a handy primer on sorting out the “stacks” … that is, the smokestacks that identify the various shipping lines whose freighters, a/k/a “lakers”, traverse the Great Lakes.   It’s no easy feat to identify those smokestacks at a glance, even through binoculars, because they often look alike as you’ll see if you access this link: http://www.knowyourships.com/gallery-stacks.html

This freighter from the Canada Steamship Lines seen above is a little nondescript and blah looking with its rust-colored hull. Even the weather that day was a little blah – a gloomy and gray November morning, much like today, when my friend Marge Aubin and I took an impromptu trip to Wyandotte for a gab-and-photo session.  While we snapped shots of seagulls swooping too close to people strolling at the water’s edge, or fisherman reeling in their catch of the day, this huge and hulking freighter suddenly came gliding along changing the view of the horizon.

At a glance, that freighter pictured above could be the “S.S. Edmund Fitzgerald” – the colors of the hull and topside are very similar in appearance to that doomed ship.

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been on freighters several times when they were docked and unloading at the cement silo in Detroit because my boss has a client with a small fleet of vessels. I was in awe the first time I ever boarded  a cement-hauling vessel that was just as clean as a cruise ship – in fact it took on paying passengers who wanted a glimpse of the Great Lakes while sailing aboard a freighter.

And looking at this picture today, I am reminded of our trip and the many freighters I’ve seen gliding through the Detroit River over the years.

But one freighter in particular comes to mind today – “The Edmund Fitzgerald”, because it is the 40^th anniversary of the ore carrier’s demise.  There’s been a little more commemoration today, than the usual remembrance of its sinking, to mark this 40^th anniversary. I’m sure most everyone in Michigan is familiar with the event as well as Gordon Lightfoot’s subsequent tribute song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”; in fact, for most people, they need only hear the first few strains of that song and will recognize it instantly.  It will make you think back and remember what you were doing on that fateful day.  I know I was a student at Henry Ford Community College and on the staff of the newspaper “The Ford Estate” – I recall how we spoke in hushed tones about the tragedy the following day.  We all came to the same conclusion … that it seemed impossible a vessel that size was gone without a trace after gale-force winds swept it from the water.

It seems inconceivable that Mother Nature could wreak such havoc to destroy men and metal, leaving only memories in a matter of minutes.

We will forevermore mark this sad anniversary and remember the 29 crew members who lost their lives that day in special ceremonies at the Mariner’s Church in Detroit. Today there was a special commemoration service in River Rouge where the “Edmund Fitzgerald” was built.

The freighter and crew are forever held hostage in a watery grave, 535 feet below Lake Superior’s surface – gone, but not forgotten, and their memory lives on forever in the beautiful ballad by Gordon Lightfoot … https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vST6hVRj2A

It was another stupendous Fall morning to savor in our memory books once that Wintry weather turns nasty and ugly. While my boss trekked back from Chicago today, I figured I could lollygag a little longer on my own journey, so I headed to Council Point Park.

Today was garbage day, and, on the long street stretched out before me, all I could see were rows and rows of brown paper yard waste bags, standing at attention like silent soldiers. I was glad for the walk to stretch my legs and get rid of the kinks I had from stooping and squashing all my leaves into eight tall yard waste bags yesterday. I think my New Year’s resolution better be to get more limber in 2016!

Once I arrived at the Park, finally, it was “my day” since I was not rebuffed by any squirrels, and instead one of my furry friends saw me taking the bag out of my pocket and came running over. He began first by sniffing my shoe, then climbed aboard and looked up at me to ask for peanuts – yes “asked” is how I would define sitting on his haunches and begging. So, who says squirrels aren’t trainable? I gave him some peanuts which I had squirrelled away in my pocket from yesterday. He took ‘em “to go” … well, that little escapade made my day.

I continued along the Park perimeter path, now strewn with leaves. With the trees and bushes continuing to get bare, I can now see the entire Ecorse Creek without the need to be gingerly stepping down the sloped banks that are so slick with leaves and frost. I was able to peer through those bare bushes and see the water, dappled by the sun as it filtered through the uppermost branches of the tallest trees. The reflection on the water was prettier than the actual scene as tiny ripples gave a distorted image of what transpired on the Creek surface. I saw the iridescent heads of a pair of mallards as they glided by and they looked like matching jewels. I watched them thrust their heads with synchronized jerky movements which seemed to propel them forward. Suddenly, they stopped and abruptly changed direction when perhaps they spied a bite to eat where the reeds were still green or tinged a harvest gold color. They disappeared into that hidey-hole and didn’t return, so I moved along as well.

I stopped every so often to take some pictures, all the while basking in the warmth of the sun. I knew that we were not enjoying such wonderful weather this time last year when there was black ice on the trail and miserably cold and blustery days … so, can we keep this weather forever?

As I turned into the driveway, I wished for all the world I was just beginning today’s trek, not ending it. I expect to hit 600 miles this week, despite two predicted rainy mornings. When I told my boss Robb that I had reached 500 miles, he encouraged me to try for 600 miles. He said “it would be like a round trip to Chicago”, so I said I’d try, and as that goal nears, I’ll set another one for year end. Robb and I collectively bemoan the Winter season and are happy to keep it at bay as long as possible – snow and ice will spell the end of the long walks, despite the purchase of the new hiking boots , because for some Winter weather, it will be better to just stay put. He is riding 20 or more miles on his bike daily as he leaves the office mid-day to travel to Belle Isle for a couple of laps around the island, but bundling up and riding along the water’s edge won’t be a treat much longer and he will resort to using the exercise bike he keeps in the office.

All too soon we will be counting the days ‘til perfect weather again, but in the meantime, today Mother Nature shone down on us giving us a most memorable day, and for this she gets an A+ and a thumbs up for sure.

“Look deep into Nature … and then you will understand everything better.”

~ Albert Einstein

Another glorious day … just perfect for walking and raking leaves. The latter task, it seemed, was on everyone’s Sunday agenda.

Well I’ve never let those leaves pile up like I did this year. As I mentioned in yesterday post, every time I was ready to do them, it was either rainy, or the wind was howling and blowing them around, so rather than rake them, then find everyone’s leaves on my lawn the next day, I let them sit … and sit … and sit.

This morning before I set out on my walk at Council Point Park, I looked outside – the sky was a flawless, beautiful blue and it was perfectly calm. Well, grrr … no excuses now to get those leaves raked and bagged up. Brrr … there was frost on the grass, (which grass I could see and was not covered in leaves) and Marge’s big thermometer was pointing at 32 degrees, so I went back in and put on a warmer coat. The air was frosty too and little wisps of my breath came out as I was walking.

I picked up the pace a bit to get the blood flowing to warm myself up. There was a handful of walkers at the Park – the weekend crowd is thinning out as many resort to their treadmills now or sleep in. I had some peanuts, but once again – no takers. Your loss guys.

I did two loops, which was five miles, then headed home to get out in the yard. By now, the neighborhood was a cacophony of screeching sounds from people using their mowers to munch the leaves and create mulch, or, those who were wielding their leaf blowers. I swear I saw leaves blowing up in the air as high as the roof in some cases. At the other end of the street were the sounds of giggling and barking and the scraping of the tines of the rake on the concrete. As quickly as Dad could rake ‘em up and make a pile of leaves, along came the kids and the dog to make mayhem in a matter of seconds with that ever-growing pile of fallen foliage.

It was an eight-bag job by the time I finally finished . I had plenty of fresh air today – over an hour’s worth of walking and another four hours of doing yard chores and dealing with the leaves. I was starving, my oatmeal having gone down to my toes hours ago. All in all, it was a stellar weather day once it warmed up a tad. While lugging the bags of leaves to the curb for tomorrow’s yard waste pickup, I was reminded of a phrase my mom would say when she wanted me to go and play outside when the weather got colder, and I was content to just sit and read one of my books in the warm and cozy house. She’d say “go out and get some fresh air and get the stink off of you” … more pearls of wisdom from Mom. Okay, I got the stink off of me; I came inside smelling faintly of musty leaves and fresh air and I know I’ll sleep good tonight.

It was another glorious Fall day today, albeit a bit blustery. Well, that wind whipping around will snatch the rest of the leaves from the trees, so I can do my raking in one fell swoop tomorrow.  I’ve really procrastinated with the leaves this year, but every time I was ready to do them, it was either very windy or they were soaking wet, and, I don’t know about you, but I hate handling wet leaves.

Today was a hybrid walking day – I had errands which required the car, but I still took time to take a walk as well, plus, I did a lap or two around the perimeter of the grocery store.

While walking in the ‘hood, I was marveling at the kaleidoscope of color on the remaining leaves along Emmons Boulevard. The various shades of rust or orange were especially pretty today, especially when the morning sun hit them just so.

The harvest décor caught my eye more than once as I strolled along. Pumpkins are still the theme of the day and the bigger and more misshapen, the better.  At Meijer, people were still picking up pumpkins … perhaps for Thanksgiving pies, because I’ve heard there will be a shortage of canned pumpkin this year due to the record rainfall in late June across the Midwest.  So, this means you might just have to get your pumpkin fix by sucking down a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte or a Burger King Pumpkin Spice Oreo Shake … I know you won’t be having a Pumpkin Pie Blizzard at the Lincoln Park Dairy Queen because they closed down for the season yesterday.

Even though you might not be having that slice (or two) of pumpkin pie, there are other orange items to crow about because the first California Clementines of the season have arrived at Meijer. Yeah!  I’m ecstatic and I snatched up a couple of bags of ‘em.  I started looking for these little gems in mid-October, and had to settle on tangerines instead, since I was not about to pay $0.79 for one navel orange.  Call me cheap … but that’s ridiculous.  But, those tangerines were so full of seeds, it required a lot of mess to open and section them, not to mention the brain power to sort them out in your mouth – the good stuff from all those ^%$# seeds!  So, I totally understand why the navel oranges were so expensive.  Also, now I know why, when I found a huge navel orange in the toe of my Christmas stocking on Christmas morning, my mom said “that’s a beautiful big orange and Mommy will section it up for you later to have before dinner” … I probably just looked at it and thought “dumb ol’ orange taking up room in my sock” … now, all these years later, I have a greater appreciation for that large, dimpled, orange orb which “Santa” left for me all those years ago.

I leave you with this thought: “Life is a great bundle of little things” ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

[Image by photographer Mikkel Schmidt at Unsplash]