WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It was Day #3 of trying the various pairs of boots I rooted out from the basement the other day for the purpose of walking in the snow.

The first pair – way too tight; the second pair (obviously missized) – wouldn’t go over either foot; and, the third pair, which I wore today – well, just perfect. Now, lest you think this is a story like Goldilocks and the Three Bears – it isn’t … but you might have detected a slight similarity.

I was bound and determined I was going to eke out a long walk today since the boss was away and the weather was above zero for a change.

I set out, carefully navigating along the sidewalk, steering clear of icy patches and snow where no one has shoveled yet this season. Here in Michigan, we are famous for our potholes and they have already sprouted up – in the streets and even on the sidewalks.

It made walking a little dicey, but hey … I got in four miles before the walk was over.

Walking in boots is no fun though, so I continue counting the days ‘til the snow is gone and I am free to pound the pavement without fear of wiping out.

These past few days, in the process of testing this trio of boots, I came to the conclusion, once again, that a “momism” I heard over the years probably indeed came to fruition. A “momism” is what I have identified in past posts as my mom’s frequent pearls of wisdom rendered whether solicited or not. In fact, I wrote a blog post about “momisms” awhile back after my sweatpants fell down when I was walking on the trail on day. The string tie broke, and, nope … I wasn’t carrying a safety pin with me either. Oops.

Like everyone else in the 70s, as a young women who was a slave to fashion trends, I owned a pair of Earth Shoes. They were hardly the type of footwear a fashionista would reach for first in her closet. They were probably the ugliest-looking shoes ever created. Both guys and gals wore them, not that you could see much of the shoe under our bell-bottom jeans. Earth Shoes were dark brown, they scuffed easily and became even more drab looking as they wore out. You actually wanted them to look that way. They had a negative heel and laced up like an oxford. But, like everyone else in the 70s, we wore them because we all wanted to look alike.

(Being a free spirit and doing your own thing comes much later in life.)

I think they were the footwear fad somewhere in between the Buffalo platform sandals with the four-inch wedge heel (which made me tower over six feet) and construction boots. It seemed like the uglier your footwear was, the happier you were. My mom would take one look at my feet and ask “why?” … I, of course, had an answer ready and replied “everyone else is wearing them and I got them with my own money” … my mom countered with the old adage “if everyone jumps off a bridge, do you have to follow?”

Now, I know you heard that last line before – I heard it many times growing up.

Not only did I wear those ugly Earth Shoes with my jeans, but I also wore them in white to match my waitress uniform at the diner where I worked through college. My mom often admonished me, proclaiming “your feet will spread and years from now, you’ll never wear pretty pumps or delicate shoes when you get older” … of course, you can’t tell young people anything, then … or nowadays.

Fast forward some 40 years … give or take a year.

Mom was right.

Of my trio of boots – the biggest and widest pair fit the best. I cringed when I saw they were size 9 and fit perfectly. Well … you gotta figure that walking some 3-5 miles a day most days, while wearing walking shoes with lots of room to wiggle your toes, would wreak havoc on your feet, eventually. It probably doesn’t help that I wear soft moccasins in the house all day and haven’t donned a pair of pumps in at least 5-6 years.

As I set out this morning, my steps were tiny and timid, that is ‘til I felt sure-footed. I felt like my gait resembled that of the Duke … with alot less swagger, of course.

[The photo credit today is attributed to my boss Robb who e-mailed me this picture of the Duke from his Blackberry upon his arrival Wednesday at John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California.]

Nor was there a long foray out into the frozen tundra, despite making a few really good warm clothing finds in a seldom-used cupboard downstairs.

I have been meaning to go searching for some of my cold-weather clothing that I used to wear when I caught the bus so I could repurpose them for walking. It seems I tucked everything away along with a few pair of short boots once I started working from home. Well, this morning I found a treasure trove of cold-weather gear I had even forgotten about and so I brought it upstairs to rifle through it.

I found my mukluks in the process. I have been missing my mukluks these past few cold weeks. In fact I wanted to look for them last year, but I kept figuring that brutal cold was going to go away … but it never did. They are so very warm and wooly in a Scandinavian print with Sherpa fleece inside. They go almost to my knees. I may look a little silly sitting typing at the kitchen table while wearing something that seems better suited for a much colder clime than Michigan, but they sure are toasty. Later in the day, I was carrying my full cup of coffee across the kitchen and nearly wiped out on the braided rug … ah, that is why I stopped wearing them – soft and shiny soles plus a clumsy wearer is not a good equation, so they will be once again relegated to the basement.

I found a hunter’s camouflage head covering which looked like Spiderman deer huntin’ gear … I think I schlepped it along with the essentials in my bus bag just in case I needed it for the ultimate snow storm, of which I’ve been in a few over the years while taking the bus. In a pinch, it might’ve worked, but now that I’ve abandoned the contacts and wear glasses all the time, it might be a scary look.

I found a couple of pair of earmuffs and a ton of those foil-wrapped hand warmers, long since expired.

I really think I was rummaging through my stuff as a stall tactic to avoid going outside, but finally I resigned myself that I indeed had to traipse out to run the car, so I spent the next ten minutes getting dressed and out the door.

Mother Nature has sure given us the cold shoulder again today.

As I opened the storm door in the 8:00 o’clock hour, I knew it was 5 degrees with a -5 degree wind chill. The needle on my neighbor Marge’s thermometer was in negative territory. I shivered just looking at it. Brrrrrrr.

We had a dusting of snow last night and the sprinkling of frozen crystals on the trees and bushes looked like icing sugar. As the sun slowly cast its first rays of the day, those six-sided snowflakes twinkled and glinted in the early morning light.

Likewise, the sun’s rays shot through some lethal-looking icicles making beautiful prisms that I hated to tackle with my broom. I whacked them once and a row of those beautiful icicles soon snapped off and their pointed edges shattered into dangerous-looking icy shards upon hitting the porch. I had to scoot over to the side quickly to avoid getting hit on the noggin.

My outside chores done, I hustled back into the house as quickly as I could … maybe tomorrow I’ll venture out of the igloo longer and go past the end of the driveway.

What good is the warmth of Summer, without the cold of Winter to give it sweetnesss?
~ John Steinbeck

Image and copyright by Rodney Campbell: https://www.flickr.com/photos/acrylicartist/9071873418/

Well “Triathlon Woman” is hardly a moniker I’d use to describe myself. But today – maybe, just maybe … it’ll work.

On the other hand, “walkin’ fool” might be a good description as well.

This morning the weather was actually balmy. Now, that’s pretty sad when you get excited about 15 degrees above zero, but I was happy to hear that forecast. I could definitely subtract a layer or two of clothing and shuck the heavy mitts before I ventured outside for a walk.

The agenda was to be a return visit to Memorial Park, toting along some bread tidbits for the birds as I promised yesterday (and being a woman of my word, I would not let them down), then perhaps a lap or two in the snowy park, and return home.

But after two laps, I was enjoying my walk in the cold, but tolerable temperature, and decided to make an impromptu visit to Council Point Park. Perhaps I should have thought about that decision a little more, since I was wearing boots, which were comfortable enough, but not like my walking shoes which feel like slippers.

But, when I arrived at the Park, I discovered a portion of the parking lot had been plowed, but not the walking path. Grrrrrrrrr. I persevered anyway, though there was at least 3-4 inches of snow on the path, which made walking a little more difficult … it was really more like marching.

I still had a half-bag of peanuts stuffed in my coat pocket from the last visit there, so I hoped the squirrels were okay if I doled out their portion of peanuts sparingly. But it turned out, I needn’t have worried, as they were not around; I didn’t even see them peering out of their nests high up in the trees.

There was only one person at the Park this morning – Todd, who runs there every weekend, and has done so for nearly 15 years. Some of the walkers refer to him as “Rocky” as he perpetually dons a wool hat that is pulled way down over his ears. Besides that hat, he wears multiple layers of clothing – shorts over pants, tee shirts over long-sleeved sweatshirts … though admittedly he doesn’t have Sly Stallone’s eyes, nor does he bellow “Adrian” all the time.

We saluted one another as we crossed paths and I called out “Happy New Year” and he reciprocated and added “be careful – it’s kind of choppy out here”, a fact I soon found out. There might have been one other walker earlier today, judging from the fresh prints in the snow on the path … a man, or a woman with very large feet, who was walking a dog with very small feet judging from the foot and paw prints.

As I walked along the edge of the Ecorse Creek I noticed it was frozen solid, and snow had drifted and piled up in some spots where the narrow body of water twists and turns along the perimeter of the Park. At the concrete precipice which juts out over a storm drain, which I often refer to as “Duck Landing”, I moseyed down the embankment to see if any of the mallard ducks were huddled together underneath for warmth, but there were none. I wonder where they have sought refuge this past brutally cold week?

Despite the build-up of snow, I persisted on that Park path for one whole trip, lamenting that the City, which had special trucks with brushes to clear the path, no longer does so. Unfortunately, our City is now in financial straits, so that nicety is gone … for the short term anyway.

I wish I’d brought along my camera since I still need one Winter snow scape shot at the beginning of the Park path and I will be able to create a collage of all four seasons at that location. Maybe next time … I only dashed down to the Park on a whim today.

Thrilled by my long walk, I shut the door and shed my coat posthaste as the furnace was blasting. I glanced at my pedometer and was surprised to see I had logged in a smidge over 5 miles.

The walking miles spurred me to hop onto the bike where I did two miles while pedaling furiously.

So … what was the third event in Triathlon Woman’s exercise regimen today you ask?

Well, it was vacuuming – not too exciting, but it yielded more steps. And … besides, I didn’t want to break the very last resolution I had made … to take better care of the house in 2015.

I’ve already blown the rest of my New Year’s resolutions.

When I was initially perusing the portfolio of photographer Rodney Campbell, I came across his photo of this Great Horned Owl. I just loved the quizzical look it was wearing. Perhaps it is a scowl? I’m not sure, but I kept that picture tucked in the back of my mind and decided to use it today to accompany this post – “Who me??”.

I opened the screen door to head out with all the enthusiasm I could muster. The needle on the big thermometer on my neighbor Marge’s deck hovered at zero degrees. The noise from the door interrupted the wool-gathering of this chunky squirrel who had positioned himself on the corner of the deck, anticipating handouts from his biggest benefactor, Marge.

I suspect that this squirrel will be leery of getting too close to the door wall since there is a dog now living in the house, albeit a pooch that is a Chihuahua mix, and who is not much larger than the squirrel with his added poundage. I am sure Woody will prove to be a terror with the backyard critters once the warmer temps get here.

The squirrel surreptitiously glanced around him, then at me, seemingly annoyed by the noise I had made, then once again returned his gaze to the door wall. He was soon rewarded for his efforts when a bare hand tossed out a handful of peanuts. Those nuts landed noiselessly on the deck floor since we had a light covering of snow last night. Well, belying that cumbersome body, the squirrel scrambled down and grabbed a peanut, then began chomping furiously lest the blue jay with his long and deadly beak should suddenly swoop down to grab up some goodies.

I watched that interaction while I steeled myself for the whoosh of cold air when I opened the screen door … it was another bitter cold morning here in Southeast Michigan. Brrrrrrr.

Today’s walk, albeit a short one, would be more than merely brisk – it would be frigid. There was too much snow to navigate in walking shoes, so I resigned myself to wearing my lug boots. I feel like an old horse clompin’ along in them, but they prevent slipping and sliding, so I put them on.

Like yesterday, the street was silent, even though it was later in the morning. The neighbors were sleeping, with no set agenda and whipped from that first, five-day work week and the wicked weather. That first long week after two shortened holiday weeks is a bear, isn’t it? After the moderate December weather and the arrival of the “real Winter” many of us are wishing we could make like a bear and hibernate for the 68 days ‘til Spring’s arrival.

I walked around the block and headed over to Memorial Park for a short jaunt around the memorial pavilion. I saw a few birds high up in the trees, looking hopeful, and I instantly felt remorse for not bringing anything along for them … “tomorrow” I promised.

I plodded through the snow, making deep footprints with my boots and destroying the pure white canvas that covered the grass and cement. There was plenty of soft powdery snow – perfect to make snow angels. I made plenty of them when I was a kid, much to the chagrin of my mom who would then have to deal with all my wet outerwear when I came in. “Must you?” she’d ask.

As I think back, I wondered … surely, I would not have plopped down onto my back, and made snow angels in the horribly cold weather … or would I have? Were we just oblivious to the cold back then? I can remember using my kid-sized shovel to create blocks to build snow forts and then hanging out in them with my friends for hours on end. This was in Canada, where I grew up, so perhaps we young Canucks were made of stronger stuff back in those days.

Well, those reflections on my youth were running through my head, just about the time that I realized my feet already felt numb and I’d only been out for fifteen minutes tops. Having succumbed to Mother Nature’s brutal temps, I started wending my way back home to run the car and get into the house where it was warm.

Once I thawed out, I headed over to the exercise bike, having decided that today would be the day to resurrect the bike-riding regimen that I so abruptly abandoned last Winter. I dusted it off and greased up the flywheel and oiled the chain, buoyed by the feeling that the bike ride could work off some energy, and burn up the calories, that the petite promenade did not.

I climbed aboard and pedaled … slowly at first, then vigorously. But five minutes into that venture, the heat came on. The heat in my house is set to 77 right now due to the extreme cold and the little nipper who lives here, who, unlike me, cannot sip a cup of coffee, don a cardigan or wrap himself in an afghan to keep cozy. He has just feathers to keep his warm, so the house is kept toasty for Buddy.

Whew … I thought that heat would never go off. I resumed pedaling. In between the furnace blasting out the heat bigtime, I got three miles of pedaling in. I won’t win any marathons for this effort, but it is a start. I’ve got to keep those legs strong to keep on walking.

And seven days without a walk, or writing a post, makes one weaker.

It also breaks one’s New Year’s resolutions … just sayin’.

It has been one week today since I’ve taken a walk or written a post. So much for positive statements uttered on the first of the new year.

Of course, like many other parts of the U.S., the weather here has been ultra-lousy. But, if I was really the avid walker I claim to be, then I’d bundle up and march boldly into the -25 wind chill. Well … tomorrow for sure.

But what about the writing? It seems my brain has become numb from all the cold and wittiness just flew out the window … no, make that the door – the window wasn’t open.

Last year I did a post in February called “The Trudge Report” which detailed the incessant Winter routine. Every day I would suit up, boot up and go outside to run the car and check for icicles, ice dams and any clogs in the furnace pipe. Then I’d run back into the house again. That was the daily agenda for weeks.

Today there was snow to contend with as well. The first really big snow event of the year. It was pretty and picturesque as it was early enough to still be pristine, having not been shoveled or blown out of the way like the annoyance that it is.
 
I glanced at Marge’s big ol’ thermometer on her deck to verify it was the same measly temperature that I’d just heard on the radio, when just then a flock of sparrows spied the fresh seeds in her feeder and dive-bombed in front of the thermometer … that was okay because whatever the numbers said – it was bone-chilling cold.

I scurried around to the front yard, to the garage, and impatiently tried to twist the key into the lock to raise the door, a feat that was difficult to accomplish with polar fleece mitts on my hands. Finally, I got it open, and cast the mitts aside onto the trunk of the car while I turned the engine over … it started right up. Good deal. Then I waited on the exhaust fumes to clear before shutting the garage door – so it was time to check out what was going on in the neighborhood.

The street was silent. Many of the residents are retired, and the other half – the worker bees, had already brushed off their cars and headed out to deal with the three-inch snowfall and a longer-than-usual trek to work.

The brutal breeze was creating quite a commotion as it stirred the huge wind chimes that hang on the porch of the house kitty-corner from mine. Those wind chimes were so loud they reminded me of Hop Sing clanging on the triangle dinner bell to call Pa Cartwright and his boys back to the Ponderosa for dinner.

As I stood there I knew there was something amiss. It was the tweets of the birds that used to cluster together for warmth in Marge’s two pear trees. The leaves on those trees never dropped ‘til mid-Winter and alot of birds made their home there all year around. No matter how cold or warm the morning was, sunshine or not, an ever-present glorious song would be erupting from nearly every branch of those two pear trees.

But, alas – the windstorm on November 24th split one tree and the City came to chop them both down as they were diseased and unstable.

So … no trees and no birds anymore. Just two empty holes are all that remains, and it made for a very barren look now that Winter has finally made its presence known.

“Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.” ~ Victor Hugo

The year is still bright and new like a freshly minted coin and there will be much pavement to pound and many miles to wander before the year draws to a close. I’ll set a 500-mile goal once again, and, like before, any miles over that goal is just “gravy”.

I sure was glad Mother Nature cooperated this morning since the weather advisories are already out for freezing rain and the other potpourri of weather goodies that are coming down the pipeline over the next few days … and, oh yeah, a couple of inches of the white stuff as well.

I decided to dig out my boots for the upcoming snow event, and I took out my new walking shoes I bought in 2012 as well. They felt heavy and awkward with their big treads, not comfortable and broken in like my old familiar pair. I put the new shoes on today because if I get a blister, I’m not going anywhere but in the house plodding around in my soft deerskin mocs, so I’ll just tolerate that blister and not whine (one of my New Year’s resolutions, remember?)

I felt like humming “just can’t wait to get on the road again” though it’s only been a couple of days since my last venture. Of course I can’t hum or sing it as well as Willie Nelson, and I don’t have the braids nor the bandana look either. But, if I plaited my long hair and then had two braids sticking out from underneath my Sherpa cap, the squirrels would probably run to the other side of the Park.

Or … I’d probably resemble Emily Gail, the erstwhile good will ambassador for the City of Detroit. She was Max Gail’s sister – you might remember him as Detective Wojo on the TV show “Barney Miller” in the late 70s?

Emily Gail was a big proponent of saying nice things about Detroit, a campaign she launched in the 70s and 80s. She had buttons and teeshirts that said “Say Nice Things About Detroit” … today that slogan has been revived as that Big City has risen from the ashes and seeks to become the jewel it once was. Back in the day, the fun thing to do on your lunch hour in Downtown Detroit was to go to her store “Emily’s Across the Street” and wander around checking out her wares. They were, for the most part, trinkets or toys or items relating to Detroit like mugs or tee-shirts, keychains and the like. You could enjoy a hot dog on the park bench outside the store, topped off by a huge Häagen-Dazs ice cream cone or a gigantic oatmeal raisin cookie, all which she’d personally serve up. Emily Gail organized fun runs and bike races and made Detroit a cool and fun place to work ‘til she lost her lease and moved to Hawaii. She comes back to visit occasionally and is still committed to saying good things about Detroit.

Even without Emily Gail being here, today the City of Detroit was excited about the Detroit Lions being in the playoffs for the first time since the 90s. So, now they are “OUR Lions”, not just “the Lions” or “same old Lions” … that much is evident from all the large Detroit Lions flags I passed as I made my way down to the Park this morning.

The hoopla of the upcoming playoffs is evident as an XXXXXL Honolulu Blue and Silver Lions jersey even adorns the Spirit of Detroit statue down at the City County Building – yes, sports fans in the metropolitan Detroit area are ecstatic!

Meanwhile, at the Park, it was a work day so only one loop around the path could be accomplished on this rather mundane Friday. The holidays are over, funky weather is in the offing and the sun wasn’t out. It was icy and dicey for walking and I stopped and visited briefly with the squirrels, tossed out some peanuts and told everyone “this time when I tell you the weather will be frightful, you can believe me” … stash your cache as I might be gone for awhile.

Tomorrow in the wee hours of the morn, the ice man cometh. I’ll huddle under the warm blankets and listen to the pinging on the patio roof and fall asleep again. I’ll worry the ice will pull the electrical wires down – oops … not supposed to worry about anything – another New Year’s resolution.

Later, I’ll hunker down in the house on the inside looking out, counting the days ‘til Spring arrives.

It was a quiet New Year’s Eve for me, except for the fireworks going on in the neighborhood from 11:00 p.m.-ish to 1:00 a.m.-ish. We have bitter cold weather here today and the wind has been furiously howling since yesterday, but no snow.

This morning it was wonderful to huddle under the blankets and just ease into the new year without a care in the world.

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.

I look at each brand-new year with hope and liken it to the stock market. You’ll have your gains and your losses, hopefully not many of the latter. There will be ups and downs … many, if not most, of which are out of your control.

Hopefully the good things will far outweigh the bad things for each and every one of you. I wish you prosperity and good health for the upcoming year … and beyond.

Image and copyright by Rodney Campbell: https://www.flickr.com/photos/acrylicartist/8675363004/

The big subject on the early morning weather report was about the brutal temps, but also the fast-moving squall that zipped through the northern ‘burbs and might be headed to the other counties. “Bummer” I thought, as that will dash my plans to head to the Park for one last jaunt in 2014.

But the sun came out, and Lincoln Park remained unscathed, so off I dashed before the squall came a callin’.

The picture I chose today from photographer Rodney Campbell is actually entitled “Mallard Puts On the Brakes” which is similar to the title of this post. I thought it was an apt title as we close out the year and begin anew tomorrow … a clean slate and a new year stretched out before us.

Well, this morning, just as I approached the Park path, I heard a cacophony of honking and quacking and wondered aloud what was going on. The raucous ramblings were amplified in the quiet Park. Thinking there was a predator of some kind antagonizing my feathered friends, I hurried along to the other side of the path which runs parallel to the Ecorse Creek.

No, nothing was amiss, but a huge flock of Canada Geese were taking off and entering V-formation. I wanted to shout at them “why are you guys still here?”, but they were already out of earshot. Obviously, those honkers either scared the ducks or were meddling in the mallards’ territory and got them all hyped up. It was very loud and you couldn’t hear yourself think for a few minutes.

Today I noticed that some parts of the Ecorse Creek were frozen over – you certainly couldn’t walk on the ice though. Occasionally, the veil of ice was broken and the mallards had gathered there and were placidly swimming with their peers shortly after the commotion died down.

As I walked the length of the Creek, I looked over to see the ducks preening themselves or diving for food and they made me even colder than I already was. I was wearing a heavy down jacket made of goose and duck feathers, yet I was far from warm, so they astounded me that here they were in the ice-cold water and below-freezing temps and swimming along without a care in the world. It must be that slick oil coating on their feathers. I’m not going to try oiling up my melon-colored coat – I’ll just whine about the cold instead.

I did two loops on the pathway and called it done for the day and the year. That brings my total walking miles to 565 and driving miles to 273. Now there’s a Sunday driver for you.

I’ll rest on my laurels and sleep in tomorrow … besides, it is supposed to colder than today, so I’ll stay tucked in my warm cozy bed instead of heading out.

Happy New Year to everyone and all the best in 2015.

Well Winter tapped me on the shoulder when I left the house this morning – it said “I know you think I was vacationing, but I’m back” … it sure was back and it was 18 degrees with a 9 degree wind chill when I stepped out of the house this morning. It was brutally cold, even in a heavy down coat.

While enroute to the Park every day I pass a large home with a corner piece of property. There is a tri-corner garden and they take care to ensure there are always flowers filling that garden all through the growing season. In Spring, there is a beautiful array of tulips, perennials all Summer and through the Fall. In the back of the garden, tall ornamental grasses wave slightly in the breeze, and though they will fade to light brown, they’ll last throughout the wintry months.

For some reason, there is a single tea rose bush planted smack dab in the middle of that flower garden. It looks like it might have wandered into the garden on its own, because, while it is beautiful, it looks gracefully out of place with the other sturdier flowers and grasses.

The homeowner didn’t cut down the flowers in the Fall, thus this very tall rosebush languishes with a single red bloom that is frozen solid at the tip of the tall stem.

There’s no use trying to bend down and take a whiff as the bloom froze in place way back in November when we had that snow and freezing rain.

I was thinking about that rose as I walked along, and then the expression “stop and smell the roses” … I have been trying to take more time to enjoy the little things in life, but it is hard sometimes. I was more diligent in keeping up with household and yard work chores ‘til I started walking and then gradually I’ve let those items languish, casting them aside to head out the door for a walk.

Then writing encompasses my time as well. Funny that walking and writing never compete against each other and when the pie of the day’s agenda is sliced, those fun things and work, of course, take up the largest pieces.

Even sleep takes a backseat sometimes I mutter as I finish up this post while the 11:00 p.m. clock is chiming.

Now, the “old me” would never have let things slide – the “new me”, however, puts on blinders and heads outside or over to the computer.

Three very good friends who battle chronic and debilitating illnesses from time to time have told me “do what you want to do, every day that you can … that work will be waiting for you when you return” … I took their advice and have adopted that mantra as my own. A little too much so it seems as I look around.

There are no regrets and no looking back now that I’ve stopped to smell the roses.

Just as I returned home the mail carrier was walking down my driveway. What should be in my mailbox today but the Jackson & Perkins rose catalog featuring the introduction of the 2015 rosebushes – a trio of names that sound like they should be stepping out for a night on the town for New Year’s Eve: “Pure Posh”, “Daring Spirit” and “Obsession” … the first flower catalog of the year, though the growing season here in Michigan is still a good five months away.

Leafing through the catalog gives one something to dream on as we near the end of the year and look forward to a brand-new year.

There will be plenty of bright and sunny days ahead to grow beautiful roses such as this bloom from my climbing rosebush “Stairway to Heaven” which image I caught early one dewy Summer Sunday morning.

Keep the faith … sometimes it’s all we’ve got.

It wasn’t just brisk – it was downright cold when I left for my walk this morning – but no complaints from my corner as it was bright and sunny and no snow! I wish we’d have Winter like the first year I walked, back in 2011-2012; it was like this December has been … cold with the occasional snow – my kind of Winter season.

Since it was a work day, I had to slice my mileage in half and settle for around 3 ½ miles this morning. That was one roundtrip to the Park and the entire loop around.

At the Park this morning I noticed the edges of the Ecorse Creek were outlined in ice – it was a heavy white margin that went all the way up and down the Creek’s edges, save for a few places where a pair of mallards were preening or bobbing for breakfast. So, it kind of looked like a kid took a brown crayon and managed to crayon outside the lines in those few places. That’s how I did my coloring back in the day – more was outside the line than contained inside the line.

The path once again was a little slick from ice and I had to watch my step as I walked along – it is time to unbox the “new” walking shoes I bought in the Spring of 2012 because my current shoes have no treads and horrors of horrors – one of them finally has a hole in the sole. I can’t imagine why – I only have about 1,400 miles on them! I bought two pair of walking shoes, when my other ones wore out, and I intended to rotate them every so often. But then I thought I might get a blister switching to the new shoes … a blister to a walker will stop all the action, so I just kept wearing this pair. All this year, last year and all of 2012 (where I didn’t keep a log, but went the same route every day which I mapped out) … Easy Spirit Punters keep going just like the Energizer Bunny!

I noticed a few Christmas trees had already been set out at the curb, and I smelled them before I saw them in the crisp morning air … I was trying to identify whether they were fir, pine or scotch. Some still were covered in tinsel which was flapping around a bit in the breeze and when I got to the Park, I noticed a few pieces of tinsel glittering on the trail. I supposed some enterprising bird lifted them from a Christmas tree and brought them back to the nest only to find out it wasn’t going to create much warmth, so they pitched them right back out.

I fed the squirrels, or perhaps I should call them “my squirrels” as they came running up to me as soon as I started on the path – no doubt the sun this morning got them out and about earlier. I was passing out peanuts and I knew that if a thought bubble was over those little guys’ heads, it would say “I thought you told us a month ago you probably wouldn’t be back and here you are everyday” … well, I too, am ecstatic to eke out a few more days’ worth of walking.

I got my morning smile watching a golden lab romping in the grass in between the loop area. Its owner had taken the leash off and it was frolicking like a filly the first time out in the paddock on a warm Spring day. That dog was going airborne and jumping around so much, but I really don’t think it was just the springy grass, tinged with the heavy dew – I think it was the red felt jacket that was cinched too tightly under its stomach. It was a full-length bright-red jacket and all that dog needed was a wide black belt with a big buckle and a Santa cap to make the look complete.

Many years ago my aunt Frances bought her dog Apache, who was a Heinz 57, a Santa Claus suit. He looked absolutely ridiculous in it – the coat with the belt and buckle, a Santa pointy cap and four rubber boots. The hat refused to stay on his head due to his enormous furry ears. Frances had to use bobby pins to keep it in place for a picture. Apache tolerated the outfit, even posed for a picture in it, but he would not move his feet in those boots. He planted his feet on the floor and refused to walk and had the most-pitiful look I’ve even seen on a dog. I wish I had a picture of him in that Santa suit but here he is pictured above. He was a much-loved member of the family and he thrived on being the center of attention all the time … except in that silly Santa suit.