WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Today, as Summer continued to establish itself as the “real current season”, I set out on another early morning walk. It didn’t seem to be as hot and sticky as yesterday, but, perhaps that was because I pared down my paraphernalia like the pedometer and camera to make a lighter load before I left.

Once again I headed to the River, and, as the early morning sun filtered through the trees on Emmons Boulevard, I marveled at the many iridescent slug trails which criss-crossed the sidewalks as I strode along. They actually glistened and were very pretty, like someone took a skinny paintbrush and dipped it in glitter and decorated the cement. Probably, because I was studying the sidewalk, enthralled in those slug trails, suddenly out of nowhere, I heard a male voice politely calling out “coming up behind you”, so I raised my hand to acknowledge the message, then turned my head to wish him good morning as he passed. He had beads of sweat rolling down his face and was trying to swipe it away with his hand, unsuccessfully I think, as he was squinting as it burned his eyes. Soon, he was just a green dot in the distance – bright green shorts and dark shoes with fluorescent green circles on the soles which bobbed up and down with each step he took. So, suddenly I was alone again, doing a Sunday stroll, and the young man with the sinewy, tanned leg muscles was many blocks ahead of me.

It was so very peaceful, with just the occasional mourning dove’s plaintive cooing and occasional rat-a-tat-tat of a downy woodpecker. But the quiet was suddenly stilled by the tooting of a train horn and the cacophony of sounds at the train crossing gate as the arm lowered. I was still a block or so away as the train burst upon the scene, its rumbling on the rickety tracks disturbing the cooing cadence of the dove, and its counterparts who were either trilling or drilling. i.e. the songbirds and woodpecker, respectively all along the Boulevard.

I also saw a butterfly this morning. I missed seeing them because it has been coolish on my morning jaunts. Unbelievably, I didn’t see it hovering about my head or body until I glimpsed my shadow and I witnessed its graceful flight near my ear as I walked along. I was very still hoping it would alight on me, but it soon left in search of beautiful blossoms and the sweet nectar they contain. This sultry Sunday stroll garnered me another four miles toward my goal, and I had my own sweet nectar – a tall glass of strawberry milk when I returned home

Just as that old song by The Jamies says – it’s Summertime. Today and tomorrow anyway.

It was an icky and sticky morning when I ventured out in considerably less clothing than my walks earlier in the week. Even so, when I stepped out of the air-conditioned house it felt a sauna bath.

Since it rained off-and-on yesterday, I figured I’d walk down to the marina. But, there aren’t many trees on Emmons Boulevard in Lincoln Park, so I was sweltering as I walked along, even in the early morn. Once I crossed the Ecorse Creek footbridge, the canopy of trees all down the street provided some welcome shade, that is … until I reached the train tracks and the shade was gone again. It was downright hot by then, so I turned around and headed back home.

I also felt hobbled somewhat by my new walking shoes. They are not quite broken in and felt like lead weights on my feet, almost as though I was wearing Dutch klompen as I trekked down the street.

Despite yesterday’s significant rainfall, many homeowners, in an effort to keep their petunias perky and their lawns emerald green, had their sprinklers turned on, so I was forever dodging the sprays of water and stepping out into the street. I saw several robins racing through the sprinkler spray, trying to beat their brethren to the worms that would likely be available in the moist lawns and I saw many sparrows drinking and splashing in the puddles on the road. Quite honestly, I almost wished I could join them.

I’d have enjoyed a longer walk today, but the sun beatin’ down on my head did me in. The good news is that my miles walked this morning helped me reach the half-way mark to my eventual goal of 500 miles. I was having some serious doubts about reaching that milestone, let alone 500 miles … but onward and upward.

Ok, Summer – you put in an appearance, so … may we return to the cooler temps again?

One of our local meteorologists, Paul Gross, says “get set to sweat” tomorrow. Well, there was no sweating this morning I’ll tell you. When I got up at 5:00 a.m., it was only 54 degrees out. The house seemed cold to me, even after I downed my first cup of coffee, and ate my piping hot oatmeal. So, I turned on the furnace and let it run one cycle to take the chill out of the air for the wee one and me.

I set out early with my destination of Council Point Park.   I tied a bag on the side of my fanny pack, which I filled with peanuts and some dried-up bread, hoping to entice either my furry or feathered friends to visit me on the trail or along the water’s edge, respectively.

The neighborhoods were so quiet with fans and A/C units stilled in the chilly morn. At the Park, I started the trail and nary a soul was in sight … neither man nor beast.   As I plodded along the perimeter path, I scanned the Creek water looking for ducks to offload my bread for their breakfast, but there were none.

But the water lilies caught my attention, so I decided to go down the slope and check them out. There were many pads clustered together and floating daintily, seemingly supported by the funky-looking seaweed just beneath the surface of the murky water. Despite all the rain we’ve had this year, sometimes the Creek water is really brown and all you can see beneath the surface is the seaweed. While the water lilies were something different in the Creek water, I just saw lots of round leaves, but no lilies. I wonder who feasted on those delicate flowers? I didn’t see any frogs sitting on the pads either.

As I turned around to leave, there was a movement beyond in the bushes.   I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun, but couldn’t see anything, so I positioned myself out of the sun. Then I saw something stir again so I stayed very still to investigate. Though I didn’t have my binoculars on me to hone in for a closer look, I realized I could zoom in with the camera.

It was then that I saw them. A collection of ducklings, all huddled together in a safe haven from the Creek and any predators … including me. They were very quiet, not moving a muscle, so I, too, stopped in my tracks. I waited a few minutes until they were comfortable with my presence, then I took the camera out slowly to capture the serene setting. I took several pictures of the group and then this one duckling who seemingly posed for me.

Then I tucked the camera back into its case and stayed silent in the event they decided to waddle out, one by one, to deposit themselves into the Creek. But they stayed put, so I moved on, musing for the rest of my time on the Park path that I had been lookin’ for ducks in all the wrong places. Yup, the water seemed like the logical spot, but clearly I was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Today was just ducky indeed … beautiful weather and an energizing five-mile trip to the Park. I was so enamored with my little feathered friends that I was halfway home before I realized that I never tendered my treats – maybe tomorrow.

Forget the R-E-S-P-E-C-T that Aretha sings about … I was ready to launch into song myself, right along with the many songbirds that dotted the canopy of trees along Emmons Boulevard as I set out on my walk today. Why? Just because it was so cool and refreshing, albeit a little windy, with a sky unmarred by clouds and a brilliant sun.

Because of yesterday’s on-and-off rain and possible mosquitoes, I decided to abandon a visit to Council Point Park where it is dense and bushy, and head instead to the River. The 12-15 mph winds caused the flag at Biddle and Jefferson to flap furiously and the ripples on the water were giving the early morning pleasure boat riders a wild and wavy trip. Most of the seagulls, who swooped down low looking for handouts, resembled Alfalfa from “The Little Rascals” with their ruffled head feathers.

Standing on the cross-streets of Emmons and Biddle, I lingered as long as I could, just loving the cool morn. I dread the heat and humidity that is slated to begin Friday. I popped over to the River’s Edge Marina for a quick look-see and potential photo ops, but there were none, so I began my trek home again.

My round trip to the River and back added five miles to my total and I arrived home feeling like my brain had been aired out and I was ready to take on the world.

… my old pair of walking shoes this morning, much as I hated to do so.

But, it was time and the big hole in the sole looked something like that large gaping pothole that keeps opening up on the Rouge Bridge; you know … the one where you can see the neighborhood below the expressway while you’re driving over it.

Well, maybe the hole wasn’t that big, but I had 1,650 miles on those shoes and two new pair waiting in the wings, so I bade them farewell.  When my next-to-last pair of walking shoes wore out, I went to buy new ones and they had discontinued the style.  So, this time I was smart and bought two extra pair … just in case.  I did keep intending to “start” another pair, but didn’t want blisters until they got broken in, so I just procrastinated – bigtime.  This morning I finally unboxed the new shoes, and even wore my Summer walking socks (more procrastination – I’ve been wearing the cushioned Winter ones but decided since Summer might finally be here, I’d get into thinner socks).

Always the pessimist, I took myself and the car to Meijer to do a little shopping, thinking that if the new shoes caused a blister, I’d have the car to rely on for the trip home and not have to endure a 1 ½ mile walk from the store to my house.  As I was ready to head out the door, I looked down at my new shoes, all pristine and bright white – they looked like they belonged on someone else’s feet.  The old ones, admittedly, were getting shoddy looking.

These new shoes reminded me of when I got my first pair of canvas running shoes, as they used to be called back in the day.  My parents got them at Sears and the brand name was “Jeepers”.  They were a bright white canvas and I can still hear my mom telling me not to run through the freshly cut grass in my new Jeepers or they’d get stained green and look dirty.  So, I wore them to the playground the next day, hell bent on keeping them looking good since, after all, I was a big girl now.  So along comes a girl about my age to say “hi” and she looked down at my shoes, and immediately stomped on both of my feet while I stood there with my mouth wide open.  She said “you got new shoes – you gotta get them dirty!”  When I went home for dinner that night and told my folks that story, my mother said “you have an overactive imagination Linda!”

Occasionally, those childhood memories I’ve conjured up are not so pleasant …

This morning was just perfect for me.  It was the kind of weather that you and I dreamed about all during the long, cold Winter and chilly Spring.  I was up early, dressed and out the door, packing my camera and a packet of peanuts, just in case my furry pals at the Park were so inclined to try some today.

When I arrived at Council Point Park there was only one other walker besides myself and that person was way off on the other loop.  So, I felt as if I had the place to myself.  The songbirds were having a conversation with one another for anyone who cared to listen.  It was pure bliss to hear them warbling high up in the trees, so I did my very best to keep up with them for about 15 minutes – that is, until my lips were too dry to answer their calls.  Then, momentarily they stopped calling out; it was as if they were disappointed in me now that our game was over.

It was so quiet I could hear the squirrels chattering in between racing one another up, down and around the many trees in the Park.  But, they stayed where they were, like they were hesitant to come over to see me, even though I carried on a bit for them by rattling the Ziploc bag, and making a production of spreading a few peanuts on the ground to grab their attention.  Either the old regulars from last Fall have moved to another location or they are filling up on wild berries and what not from around the Park.   Perhaps they are just playing hard to get?  Just wait ‘til Fall fellas – you’ll be climbing down the trees just as fast as your legs will carry you and you won’t be rebuffing me then.

I had a sudden urge to blurt out that ditty for the candy bars:  “sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t”.

So, I put the peanuts away, and pulled the camera out instead, just so it would be handy.   I strolled along, just minding my own business, and picked up the pace a bit, when suddenly I found myself beneath this large tree where a solitary squirrel scolded me with some chatter from his high perch.  As you can see in the photo above, he struck a rather defiant pose, and seemed to inquire of me: friend or foe …who comes here?  Then there was much tail swishing and nattering as if I’d done him wrong somehow.  I’m no squirrel whisperer and I don’t speak his language anyway, so I looked up, acknowledged him, took his picture, then just marched on.  So, that ticked him off – that I ignored him.  Sighing, I put the camera away and got out the bag of peanuts again and threw a couple on the path.  I did not look back, but instead, out of the corner of my eye I was watching the pavement to see his shadow, knowing he’d soon catch up to me, and probably pester me for another peanut.  Sure enough, there he was and I was happy to oblige him, but feeling foolish for catering to the whims of a squirrel.

By the time I began my second lap around the Park, more people had joined me on the perimeter path.   There were bikers, several runners, about a dozen walkers and Donna, the rollerblader.  She zipped past me multiple times, so finally I asked how many loops she had done already to which she replied it was her 8^th or 9^th trip around.

On this beautiful morning each person was there for some exercise as well as to enjoy this little nature nook embedded within the City.  Mostly they just walk and take it all in, alone in their thoughts, but a few were bopping and bobbing their heads to each beat that infiltrated their ears from iPods clapped to their sides.  It starting getting warmish and I noticed the runners were glistening with perspiration on their faces as they gave a breathy “good morning” and waved a hand as they hurried by.

After I walked two complete loops and lingered longer than I should have taking pictures and just meandering along the way, I finally headed home, tired, but happy to have added another 5 ½ miles toward my final goal.

Well, the weather folks were touting this rainy Thursday and we got it.  It is still drizzling out there.  I figured it was safe to set the alarm for later as there’d be no walk for me this morning.  I even went to bed super early and slept in late (for me).  So, no more using sleep deprivation as an excuse for being crabby.

By now, I suspect that this very cool-looking chalk art has completely vanished from the sidewalk as a result of the heavy rain.  Unlike the usual childish scribbles, doodles and flowers I see festooned on neighborhood sidewalks, I was really impressed with these sea creatures … enough so to take a picture of the artwork.  My wild imagination tells me that the little kid who created this goes to the playground and says “hey, do ya wanna come over and see some etchings?”  (Well, that’s a Throwback Thursday phrase if I ever heard one.)

I don’t think sidewalk chalk art was the rage when I was a kid, and … it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as we lived in a new subdivision with a gravel road in that cul-de-sac.  About the only artwork that I cranked out was using an Etch A Sketch, plus the occasional crude crayon drawings of my pets for grade school assignments that my mom lovingly saved and now repose in a scrapbook at the bottom of the closet.

On this cool and clammy-feeling day, this “seafood special” makes me hungry, so I am going to finish this blog post and have a bowl of Campbell’s Chunky New England Clam Chowder with Goldfish crackers.

And neither did I … as to walking anyway.

This morning I headed out early for a long trek, eager to get out into this excellent walking weather, which was 100% better than yesterday’s humidity. I am loving this coolish weather and it doesn’t hurt my feelings if the heat stays away. I follow several weather sites and sometimes read the comments, mostly negative, about the lack of sunny, warm days this season. On the bright side, we could be Boston’s Seaport district where the chilly Spring and Summer and lack of sunshine hasn’t knocked back that 12-foot pile of accumulated snow, ice and debris collected in the streets after the many heavy snowfalls. So see – we have nothing to complain about.

I put the furnace on last night for Buddy … and, quite truthfully, for me as well. While I ate my breakfast, even though I heard the furnace chugging, it was still chilly, and so I wrapped my cold hands around my warm mug of coffee, and even had a second cup just to start me up.

Tonight is the Stones concert at Comerica Park, one of the last stops on their Zip Code tour. If they are hoping for a warm night with gentle breezes, they are in for a big surprise. In fact, the mosquitoes might even pack up and go somewhere warmer where they can feast on humans wearing tank tops and shorts, not hoodies and long pants.

Today is the 49^th anniversary of our family’s arrival here in the U.S. Sometimes it seems like I’ve always lived here and there was no “before” time period that ever existed. Within the last few weeks, my permanent resident green card arrived in the mail after a nearly nine-month process, i.e. two trips down to the local immigration office and a stop at the Lincoln Park police station to obtain a security clearance letter requested by the Department of Homeland Security.   The protracted procedure was because my fingerprints were worn down due to decades of typing. I personally think the DHS took one look at the new photo and decided to delve into my past because it is absolutely the worst photo I have ever had taken.   It is a black-and-white, full face picture, and it even scared me!

Since it rained yesterday I decided to forego a trip to the Park and head to the River’s Edge Marina instead. It is about a five-mile round trip jaunt which takes me through three cities: Lincoln Park, Wyandotte and Ecorse. This morning I didn’t get stopped by the train , but it was rolling on by just as I was standing at the marina’s footbridge as you see in the background of the photo above.

After a few minutes on the bridge, I turned around and started my long trek back home. Some two miles down Biddle Avenue from the marina, the crafters and vendors were setting up their booths and displays for the Wyandotte Street Fair which began today. They will hold their collective breaths that the weather cooperates until Saturday night – it always seems to rain at least one day of the Fair and I guess tomorrow is that day, so they’ll be saying “Gimme Shelter” for sure.

This morning, while my boss Robb made his 240-mile trek back from the family cabin in Georgian Bay, I was wending my way through Wyandotte, via Emmons Boulevard to the River … and back home again. Yesterday I spent five hours doing outside chores and when the alarm went off this morning and I stood up, I felt every minute of that time I logged in. It was as though a Mack truck ran over me and I was almost ready to hop back into bed. I had knots in my neck from gazing upward for so long while I washed down the house. All this walking may be stellar for your heart, but it sure doesn’t make you limber.

As I approached the small bridge that connects Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, I always stop to gaze into the Ecorse Creek to see if anything is happening. There was a Mama duck and her ducklings swimming parallel to the tall reeds so I took out my camera, poised to snap a photo of them if they moved to the middle of the Creek. The whole family, whose coloring was a drab and mottled brown, blended right into the Creek water which is murky and brimming full with old tree branches and raggedy-looking seaweed, visible just beneath the surface.

I waited patiently for a few minutes to take a group shot of Mom and her brood, but I was also eager to get on the road to avoid being stopped by the 8:20 a.m. train on my return trip. I watched the ducklings as they swam close to her side, mimicking her moves as she nibbled away at the reeds along the water’s edge. Eventually the group drifted into a small shady alcove.

A nearby home butts up against the banks of the Creek, and I’ve often passed by their privacy fence which is full of knotholes. So, on a lark, I decided to peer through one of the knotholes, even thinking I could thrust the camera lens up to the opening to get a picture of the Creek from that perspective. Well, my window to the world through that knothole was pretty good so I’ve included it with today’s post – in fact I zoomed in about a half-dozen times, taking shots at each level, and had a difficult time picking which picture I liked the best.

I then took off, before the homeowner looked out and thought I was some trespassing or up to some mischief. I headed down to the River. It was beautiful – a little warm, and the sun was glistening off the water. There were several pleasure boats out as well. I lingered a few minutes then started for home.

Once again I paused at the same bridge over the Creek. My reason for stopping this time was because I heard a frog croaking and several big splashes in the water. I decided to investigate and pulled the camera out just in case something exciting happened. Soon a jogger stopped in his tracks, came over to stand near me and asked “anything interesting in there this morning?”, so I shared my tale of the obnoxiously loud frog and some belly flopping that I figured was the frog or the ducks having a bath. I added “who can tell in this muddy water?” He told me the splashing noises were from Asian Carp which had lived in the Creek for years, then pointed to the location, just a few paces away, where there were big splashes and the churning of the water. He said it was no doubt spawning season. We watched as a few carp leapt right out of the water, coming down hard with a big belly flop. As we watched the Creek, a few curious carp came close to where we stood; I was surprised just how large they were as they darted back and forth just beneath the surface of the water underneath the bridge.

He remarked that if you gave this Creek more than just a passing glance, you’d see alot of natural inhabitants – more than you’d imagine, especially right here in the middle of the City. I agreed and said that it means more to some people than just the old crick beneath the bridge.

We parted ways and I turned to come home and finish the balance of my five-mile journey, leaving him to jog off in the opposite direction toward the River.

We’ve been blessed with beautiful weather thus far this long weekend and you’ll hear no complaints from me about the sunny skies, lack of humidity and coolish temps. I was up and at ‘em early with a firecracker start as I had a long constitutional planned and a list of outside chores slated for my holiday agenda.

This morning I planned to visit and walk around four different parks, with stop #1 at Council Point Park, where it was very still and serene allowing me to be infused with the beautiful nature setting. Just like the neighborhoods that were so quiet as people slumbered away on this middle day of the long holiday, I think the squirrels and birds were also fast asleep. Down near the Ecorse Creek, even the elusive burping bullfrog was not bathing this morning, but tucked away out of sight and the geese and ducks were missing in the murky water as well.

So, after one trip around the perimeter path, I left Council Point Park and headed along River Drive until I reached Lions Park. They have a similar trail and a view of the Creek. I was alone with my thoughts once again as I walked around, peering through the bushes and trees for a sign of life, but there was none.

I was still full of energy, and wavered on returning home to work versus lingering a little longer on my walk. The weather was simply gorgeous and I really was in no hurry to get home to start the chores I had assigned myself for today – weeds, trimming the bushes and washing the house down. So, without much hesitation, I decided to officially declare my independence from any work on this July 4^th holiday and make a couple of more pit stops before returning home.

I stopped briefly at Ford Park, then made my last stop Memorial Park. I meandered through the pavilion area and sat a few minutes on the benches across from the war memorial where I checked on the progress of the Band Shell. There was a drive here in the City to raise money to refurbish the Kennedy Memorial Park Band Shell, a 60-year old structure which had been in disrepair for some time. The rehabbing is nearly done, and I saw the “shell” has been painted a bright white and that new paint job shone like a beacon through the trees. The crumbling cement stage has undergone extensive repair and the acoustical system restored to its glory. The City’s contractors are rushing about madly as the Band Shell will celebrate the renovation next Saturday with a special guest appearance by the group MC5, who made their debut on that very stage a half-century ago.

Finally I was pooped out, so I headed for home where I checked my pedometer and found I had added another 5 ½ miles toward my ultimate goal.

Hope you have a restful and happy 4^th!