WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

This morning I reached and passed 300 walking miles so far for 2015. Good thing, because I was mad at myself for not reaching my self-imposed 4^th of July goal of 250 miles. Though I fell short of that goal, which was halfway to my end goal of 500 miles, luckily, due to the spate of sunny mornings, and alot of pounding the pavement, I’ve reached this mini milestone. I walked 110 miles in the month of July alone … and July is not done yet.

So, just like this train that keeps rollin’ along, so do I. My next goal is to reach 400 miles by Labor Day. Hopefully that is doable.

When I left for my walk this morning, it was mercifully cooler, with the humidity banished and a the bonus of a slight breeze to boot.

The cooler temperature meant the neighborhoods were quieter, with A/C units switched off and sprinklers silenced. There was no pinging sound of flinging droplets onto concrete which had often forced me to skirt sidewalks and driveways and walk in the street to avoid getting drenched. The robins were hushed as well since they were busy grabbing grubs and wrestling worms from moist lawns that were the glad recipients of a quick cloudburst yesterday that yielded nearly a half inch of rain in a matter of minutes.

I was much quieter too, as I meandered along, minus my water bottle and its holster and harness that hook onto my fanny pack. Between the hooks and clips on my gear, and my lanyard with its pepper spray, whistle, keys and plastic tag with my contact info, my trappings were starting to sound and look like Schneider. the building super on the late 70s TV sitcom “One Day At a Time”.

I hope the humidity stays at bay for a few more days. Today’s jaunt added five more miles and I was happy to get home and reward myself with a substantial swig of strawberry milk.

I often breathe a sigh of relief that I was not born in the Victorian era as their garb would have stifled me for sure. I don’t know how those Victorian ladies survived the heat in an age of corsets, crinolines, bustles and bustiers. No wonder they fainted all the time and needed to be revived with smelling salts.

The weather folks are all saying this is the last wickedly hot AND humid day before a storm rolls in later to knock back the humidity, but unfortunately the heat wave will linger. I know we all complained enough about the brutally cold Winter and chilly Spring that there should be no complaints about these hot Summer days. I distinctly remember saying, that I, for one, would have no complaints about the heat when it arrived, and now, of course, I’ve whined about it all week, so I guess that labels me a malcontent.

Once again I left early for my walk to beat the heat. There was no breeze, the temps were already in the 70s and the sun was just starting to filter through the clouds.

As I walked through the neighborhoods, I noticed more and more bedraggled-looking blooms in pots and planters and many hanging baskets had the dregs of formerly fine-looking flowers which now resemble something the Addams Family might place on their shepherd hooks – not just bedraggled, but downright dead. We sure got spoiled with Mother Nature taking care of our flowers and lawns with cool days and rain showers daily. Even the lush lawns are beginning to get tinged with yellowish patches which can’t be blamed on Fido, and, I suspect in just a few more days of this heat, those grass blades will be crispy.

I just walked to the railroad tracks and back, not wanting to get waylaid by the 8:20 a.m. train rumbling through. That was a quick trip, with four more miles to add to my total. By the time I arrived home, the sun was high in the sky and the morning was quickly getting downright hot and sticky.

As to me, I liken myself to a flower – a daisy to be exact. When I left the house I looked like a hardy Shasta Daisy and by the time I returned I resembled a Gerbera Daisy – you know the type … those cute and colorful blooms with the perky petals, that is – until the sun hits them, then, they, just like those Victorian ladies of yesteryear, collapse in half and faint dead away.

Well, it was another sweltering morning, but luckily I left early enough so that only the return trip was hot and sticky. The humidity was high and little drips and drops once again speckled the concrete where they had plopped down from the gutters or car bodies.

My destination was just up and down Emmons Boulevard, to the train tracks and back, usually an easy, four-mile, round-trip trek, but I was getting tuckered out on the last leg of the trip. By the time I neared home, my sleeveless tee-shirt felt moist, as did my lanyard; even my madras seersucker clam diggers felt clammy as their puckers went kaput and the fabric lay limply against my legs.

As I unlocked the door and stepped into the cool house, I truly wished I had been as scantily clad as this little fellow above.

My pal Leslie posted this interesting-looking bug on her Facebook site a few days ago, along with the comment “this little Walking Stick came by today to say hello”. Several of her friends, including me, commented on how long since we’d seen one of these creatures, and I added to my commentary that he stopped by for “Throwback Thursday”. You might remember me sharing the escapades of Leslie’s garden frog a few weeks ago, so, I told Leslie she has the best critters in her yard and I only get those big, fat, ugly garden spiders – ugh!

I figure that with all the walking I’ve done this year, especially in this heat and humidity, my physique should resemble this slender Walking Stick, or, at the very least, that of “Gumby”.

Today the new Dr. Seuss book debuted, courtesy of a recently discovered draft that was written and illustrated long before his death in 1991. It is entitled “What Pet Should I Get?” This Walking Stick might have been one of my “outdoor pets” when I was a kid. Oh sure, I had my little budgie “Skippy” and dogs named “Fritzy”, “Cocoa” and “Peppy” while I was growing up, but when I was with my playmates , we would capture and keep some oddball critters, much to the chagrin of our parents.

Growing up, there were many carefree childhood Summer days spent down at the meadow area at the foot of our new sub. All the kids from the cul-de-sac would gather, then cross the street carefully, sometimes hand in hand, and we’d head to the meadow where the creek ran through. There we would run off all our excess energy and explore that little nature nook. We’d giggle at grasshoppers that we’d capture in our bare hands, holding them hostage between splayed fingers. Their jerky or fluttery movements would tickle our hands and leave “tobacco stains” on our palms and fingers as well. We’d pluck furry caterpillars from the bark as they inched up trees or bushes, then squeal in delight as we touched their bristly texture. And, so also it was with Walking Sticks, or the occasional Praying Mantis, which we would gaze at in wide-eyed wonder.

Oh … to be a kid again sometimes, though I know I’d not get so touchy-feely with any of these insects, like in the past. Though I’m not bothered by placid insects, or, even worms, it is the creeping and crawling pests that would never be a pet and really and truly “do me in”.

I added four more miles to my total and I’m still hopeful to get to 300 miles by week’s end.

I’ll leave you with a quote by Dr. Seuss; it’s just one of my many favorites by him: “From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.” ~Dr. Seuss

This morning I set out as early as I could to avoid the wicked heat. Whew! Mother Nature sure kicked that humidity up a notch or two from yesterday. The dew was heavy on the lawns and the humidity was so high that even the cars were sweating, as evidenced by droplets running down from the roofs, shimmying along the windshield and then pooling on the concrete in neat and uniform drops.

The weatherman said this morning we are in for “Heat Week” as if it were a big event like “Shark Week” for goodness sake.

I walked to Council Point Park and was just one of a handful of walkers, none whom I knew. I travelled light again and didn’t pack any critter treats which was just as well as I didn’t see squirrels scrambling down the tree to greet me or line up single file behind me to glean any goodies.

I got 1 ½ complete loops done before I headed for home. I wanted to share this picture of a tree in the Park that I call the “Pick up Sticks Tree”. It reminds me of my childhood game by that same name where you’d dump out the canister of long wooden sticks that resemble ultra-skinny knitting needles and then try to extricate each stick without disturbing the rest of the bunch.

This poor tree was felled by a storm awhile back, and it has lain there for months, looking very forlorn, and finally, someone hoping to elicit a giggle or persuade the City to send a wood chipper to this tree’s aid, used a spray can and made the suggestion “Fix Me”.

I wonder if anyone was around to hear that tree fall?

It looks to me like Old Mother Nature just hit the paws button on the Dog Days of Summer, because the heat and humidity, which didn’t stray too far away, has returned.

I wasn’t even a block and a half into my walk when I realized I should not have hit the snooze button those three times, and just gotten up and left earlier, as it was way too hot for my liking. We had some rain last night so I headed to my second string destination – the Rivers Edge Marina in Wyandotte.

As I walked through Lincoln Park, this steamy and sultry Sunday had me desperately seeking shade, until I could reach the canopy of trees that line the Wyandotte portion of Emmons Boulevard.

Then, it was hot, hot, hot crossing the railroad tracks with no shade, until finally I reached Biddle Avenue and headed over to the marina which was already hoppin’. I saw several paddle boats and a pontoon boat in the marina area, plus several large pleasure boats already out on the Detroit River.

The sky was a brilliant blue, without a single cloud and marred only by a contrail or two. Some seagulls started swooping down near my head, inching closer and closer, then dipping so dangerously low that several times I was forced to wave my arms to shoo them away. Perhaps I had a kindly face that they equated with handouts for their breakfast, but this was not the case. I knew the temps were hot and the humidity was high, so I dressed sparingly – just enough to be decent. I even left the camera and pedometer behind.

It took me a little longer to make this round trip today, and I was glad to get out of the sweltering heat and into the cool house. After all this effort, I would have loved to swig a tropical delight like those pictured above, but it was just a tall glass of strawberry milk and a couple of chilled juicy peaches to make me feel human again.

I managed to get five more miles under my belt as I strive to stride to 300 miles by month end, and hopefully this heat wave will be over soon, so I can get ‘er done.

Back in the day I can remember spending hours on a snowy Sunday afternoon playing Monopoly with my parents.   As I recall, it was always a coup when your token landed on “Park Place” and you acquired the deed, so every time I write about, or visit, the landing that juts out over the big drain at Council Point Park, I think of that game and the high-priced property known as Park Place. Today, that fictional piece of land, in reality, might be something that is part of the Trump empire or, in Detroit, a Dan Gilbert acquisition.

When I first began walking at Council Point Park, the water’s edge was a gem where geese, ducks and even swans, and their young, would gather. Whenever I tossed out tidbits of stale bread to them, it took me back to happy times at High Park in Toronto where my parents took me when I was very young. I’d have a bag of bread that Mom cut up for me, which I’d gleefully fling out at the birds, and, even though my aim was not so good, they’d come close to me, creating much noise on their part and eruptions of giggles and squeals of laughter by me.

Well, that was cheap entertainment, but I am richer for the experience.

I also am glad for the nature books my parents bought me and those little trips which helped instill a love of nature in me.

The Park has changed though this past year … sometimes I think it looks a little unloved.

I feel badly when I climb down from the trail to stand on the drain nowadays, as all I see is a still and rather-murky Ecorse Creek, devoid of water fowl. Even the waterlilies that are floating on the surface are missing their blooms … and their frogs.

But, while this concrete precipice at Council Point Park is absent wildlife these days, it is still a wonderful little place for reflections – whether it is your own visage peering into the water, or a place to evoke memories from the recesses of your mind. Sometimes this Park place is merely a venue to appreciate the reflection of the trees upon the water when the sun hits just right. Such a scene, hopefully, I’ve captured in the photo above.

I am reminded of this quote by Henry David Thoreau: “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”

I left the house early today as I wanted to get out and enjoy my walk in the Park before the humidity and heat and humans permeated the Park experience.

This morning was such a time for seeing more than meets the eye and looking at the Park through rose-colored glasses to see the beauty. It was so very peaceful and quiet, as it was early enough that the crowd had not yet arrived. I savored the solitude and enjoyed having the Park to myself, save for a few songbirds that insisted on injecting their music into the silence of the still morn, or, perhaps the occasional teensy splashes in the water of Creek inhabitants like turtles or fish who were coming up for air.

I read online, just this week, that communing with nature on a daily basis increases your ability to concentrate and gives you more brain power – really?! Too bad you can’t bottle up that experience and sell it, huh?

Still another morning walk with no perspiration or precipitation. Boy, I could really get used to this beautiful weather that we’ve had the past week, and, it is supposed to continue like this ‘til next Tuesday. It sure helps to make up for the deluge of rain we had during May and June, and enables me to catch up with all those missed miles from walking sessions marred by bad weather.

Today’s trip was to Council Point Park and I was not alone there. Many people were taking advantage of the bright skies and cooler temperature to get their miles done as well. Although I carry my camera with me most days, there are not always feathered friends close enough to take their picture to use in my posts. While the ducks and geese have not been plentiful and I’ve yet to catch sight of that big heron either this season, I’ve seen plenty of blackbirds flying low over the marshy areas and flitting from branch to branch. They move much too quickly for me to get their picture because when I get home, I find the images are just a blur.

But, I was lucky enough to have this baby robin strike a pose for me. He sat there for the longest time while I snapped away, but I liked this up-close-and-personal shot the best. This little guy is still bob-tailed since the tail feathers have not grown in and you can see his chest plumage is still speckled and not the pretty reddish-orange hue that we’re accustomed to seeing. He actually had a happy look, unlike most of the robins that hang out around my house, who strut around with an attitude and have a definite surly disposition.

My two laps around the Park, along with steps taken to get there and back, yielded another five miles toward my total for the year. I’ve set myself a mini goal of 300 miles by month end and, if Mother Nature cooperates and my legs hold out, I’m thinking I will reach that mark by next Friday.

… you’re a block from home and you see a convoy of DTE trucks and linemen looking up at the wires overhead.

Just such an event followed a wonderful walk in stellar weather this morning.

When I began my trek, the sun was high in the sky, and, since I left early enough, I decided to travel down to the River and the marina. But, as I neared Alfred Street, site of the railroad crossing gates and train tracks, a loud whistle preceded the lowering of the gates and quickly the train was upon me. I decided to just forego the last leg of my trip, and changed direction. As it turned out, I needn’t have abandoned my original destination, as it was a very short train. Ah well … maybe tomorrow.

On my return trip up Emmons Boulevard, I saw only one person, a woman who had just crossed the tracks and was walking briskly behind me, while singing away to some tunes that were playing in her ears. From her shadow and the louder singing, I knew she was gaining speed and getting closer to me. As she passed by, we spoke about the beautiful weather and just began walking side-by-side. Amongst our topics were local current events and a discussion of online versus traditional newspapers. She mentioned “The Wyandotte Patch”, the hyperlocal newspaper where I write an identical blog to this one. I asked her if she ever read “that girl who writes about walking” and she said “yes I do”, so I couldn’t help myself and blurted out “well, that would be me” (as I enjoyed just a smidgeon of my proverbial 15 minutes of fame). We chit-chatted amiably as we walked along, and I knew I should take that fork in the road toward my home, but I decided to extend our conversation a little further. Finally, to risk shin splints and arriving home way too late, Mary and I said our goodbyes and I headed in the right direction this time.

As I got closer to home, I was lost in thought, that is … until I heard the rumbling of large trucks. I looked ahead but couldn’t see anything going on, and just dismissed the noise as someone having cement work or other outside home improvements done which required the assemblage of multiple workers with large vehicles. About a block from home, I flipped the corner of my tee-shirt up and bent my head to check the pedometer after the extra few blocks I had put in, and noted happily I was over five miles. But, when I raised my head, I saw three large DTE trucks on the cross-street near my home. Yesterday, I saw in the online newspaper that all the street lights on Fort Street and Dix Avenue were going to be replaced over the next few months, necessitating the power to be taken off for the street lights, until the job was completed. It was not, however, supposed to affect the power in the residential areas. The cub reporter in me had to scope out the situation to determine if that was the reason for the commotion, or, if I should worry about Buddy, remoting into work, writing the blog that was bubbling in my brain and/or the contents of my refrigerator … all in that order. So, I hurried over to ask one of the lineman the “who, what, where, when, why and how” about their presence.

I approached him and said “is all this activity about turning off the juice to the streetlights, or, do I have to worry about no power today?” He smiled and said “nope, we’re just here to fix that line that’s hanging down over there where you just walked under.” Well, … gulp. I swiveled my head around posthaste and squinted as the sun bounced off my glasses giving me a prism effect. I shielded my eyes, and, sure enough, there was a big electrical line hanging down … right where I had just walked. “Guess I am blessed” was my response and he just smiled and said “have a good day.”

It was a beautiful morning so I set my sights on walking two loops at Council Point Park. The lure of the natural setting amidst the hustle and bustle of the City keeps me returning there as much as possible. Another draw for me is the ability to walk on the asphalt path without having to constantly sidestep uneven sidewalks, potholes in the streets and distracted drivers to whom the average pedestrian is seemingly invisible. Invisible – not so much, but sometimes I feel like I should be when you see how most people drive anymore.

And, morning drivers are the worst! Nine times out of ten, they are leaving the house behind schedule, so they are in a hurry and not mindful of others. I can’t tell you how many times while walking in the residential areas, someone just backs out of the driveway without a care in the world, never looking to see if someone is behind them. For that reason, I generally wait, anticipating their next move, before I make mine. I’ve never heard of so many vehicle versus pedestrian accidents either until the past few years, a fact that worries me somewhat. In the Summer the pace is more leisurely and you don’t have the moms (and dads too, of course) hurriedly backing out of the driveway without looking both ways, because the kids are running late for school, and need to be dropped off … sometimes at multiple schools, before the driver continues on to work or whatever else is on their agenda.

That is why once I’m on the Park perimeter path, it is just walking … taking in nature or letting my mind wonder and wander while I walk.

So, it was with dismay I listened to the radio interview this morning about the new “mini city” in Ann Arbor where autonomous cars go to practice and perfect their moves. Mcity bustles with activities and vehicles blitz around the streets where they must encounter robots, like Sebastian, who purposely cross their path to see if the vehicles will react on a dime. Sebastian even walks with a gait – he swings his arms as he is striding along, just like a person would. If the driverless car stops, Sebastian’s “life” is spared … if not, he becomes a twisted metal pile on the road and it is back to the drawing board. For my out-of-state followers, if you want to read more about Mcity, go to this link: http://gizmodo.com/welcome-to-mcity-the-fake-town-built-for-testing-drive-1719142309

It all sounds fascinating, but once autonomous cars become the norm, I think I’ll get a treadmill for the basement.  In the meantime, I added another five miles toward my total walking miles – smoothly and safely.

The Dog Days of Summer (named for the alignment of the sun and Sirius, the dog star) usually lasts about 40 days, from July 3^rd to August 11^th.

In Michigan, they were here for a couple of days, then just romped away.  Siriusly!

Perhaps they weren’t willing to share the spotlight with Pluto?

Today is the anniversary of the moon landing back in 1969. Somewhere in my old desk downstairs is the front page of “The Detroit News” commemorating the lunar landing, which seems like old hat now that Pluto is sending pictures back to Earth, from some three billion miles away. I wonder how many youngsters found out last week that Pluto was a planet and not just a cute Disney-animated pooch?

We have a stretch of good weather for this entire week, or so the weather folks tell us. I believe we have finally willed our rain to go away for awhile, and, it has landed in Southern California where the song says it never rains, but has been raining cats and dogs there for several days.

It was still a wee bit warm and stifling when I left for my walk, but loads better than the past two days. I wondered where I’d travel today because, quite frankly, I lost track of what happened with the weather yesterday. Generally, I don’t walk in the Park if it rained recently. I knew all the weather forecasters called for severe weather Sunday afternoon, but happily that didn’t happen – I don’t even think we had a single drop of rain. I know there was no water pooling on the top of my ornamental milk can when I stepped outside this morning. Hmmmmm.

I decided to just head to the River. Along the way I saw two German shepherds shepherding a very large man. He was huffing and puffing behind them as they strained on their respective leashes, clearly going where THEY wanted to go. As to their master, he was struggling mightily to keep up with them. I also saw the two snorting and sniffling English bulldogs with their owner, a wisp of a woman. She didn’t need to scramble to keep up with the pair as they ambled down the Boulevard, leaving a trail of spittle and drool behind them. Their leashes are almost an afterthought as she holds them limply in her hand. Occasionally, the trio stopped on the sidewalk where she’d offer them a sip from a water bottle she was carrying. I watched them tip their huge heads back to drink … glug, glug, glug, as that bottle of water hit the spot. I’ve never seen dogs drink like that before this pair.

I passed the corner house where the dog rules the backyard. There is a section of the patio devoted to the family dog, with a long and comfy pad that rises off the hot concrete, a small wading pool and a beautiful ceramic bowl with a bone motif filled with clean, cool water. Dog toys are scattered in the area as well. Then, there is the large house where, on any given day, there are at least 50 fluorescent yellow-green tennis balls in the backyard. I guess the word “fetch” is not in this dog’s vocabulary, or perhaps the owner doesn’t collect them until he mows the lawn?

While hoofin’ it today I added four miles to my total, but I’m nodding off as I write this – just dawg tired I guess.