WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I think Mother Nature has now redeemed herself for the many rainy days we’ve endured this Summer, not to mention the horrible Winter and miserable Spring. Perhaps she has taken pity on us here in Southeast Michigan and concedes that we have earned the right to just a few more warm days to roll up our sleeves and let our bare arms bask in the sun a bit.

It was downright Summer-like today by the time I left for my walk, wearing a short-sleeved tee-shirt and baring my arms. It was already 70 degrees! Not even a week ago, I know I was in multiple layers and looking for my wool hat and gloves, but, as that saying goes “if you don’t like the weather here in Michigan, wait five minutes”.

I didn’t head down to the Park this morning, but I just walked around the neighborhood and went over to the Farmer’s Market. I had done some chores in the yard earlier in the morning. I figured since it hadn’t rained for over a week, I’d cover up my ornamental log cabin birdhouse and my slate “Welcome” sign for the Winter. Both are permanent fixtures at my house for many years, and an annual rite of Fall is wrapping them up to keep them from getting weather-beaten over the Winter. This task, to me, has a kind of finality to it because it means that the cold weather, which I despise, is soon on the way. I felt a little silly doing this chore on such a warm day, but I keep hearing the “Almanac” editor crowing about snowflakes in mid-October and wicked weather in November, so I just dealt with it. After multiple layers of bags over the Welcome sign, I stood back to inspect my efforts, and to ensure that no gaps were visible where the snow or ice might collect and pull the sign off the wall. It passed muster, and, just as I opened the door to go into the house to collect my walking paraphernalia to be on my way, I heard geese honking nearby, so I glanced up to the sky. I wished I would have had my camera handy since a flock of about 15 Canada Geese were flying in V-formation directly overhead and very low. I resisted the urge to wave and say “see ya in the Spring” or “save travels to y’all” … much too soon they were gone, but the message was clear … time’s a’ tickin’.

Mother Nature has outdone herself this week, but today was something special. There was just the smallest hint of fog when I left the house this morning, and by the time I arrived at Council Point Park, the sun was suddenly high in the sky and shooting sunbeams at me as well as across the endless expanse of soccer and baseball fields. It reminded me of a day last Summer and my post about the amazing sunbeam: https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/08/18/sunbeam/. I was awestruck then, just as I was this morning. But, today the sun seemed to slice right through the morning mist and cast its light on the Creek and the grass. It was a little breathtaking. The sun was dancing along on a few trees that have already started to turn red and yellow, illuminating those leaves and it was very picturesque. There were several people on the perimeter path, including the woman who rollerblades – I hadn’t seen her in several weeks, and thought perhaps she had given up that sport now that the leaves and acorns have started littering the trail and she was concerned about them getting caught in the wheels. Once again I saw Ann Marie whom I met a few days ago, and we chitchatted once again, picking up our conversation where we left off. We finished up the trail, left the Park and walked some more and gabbed some more. After we parted, I knew I should head for home since I had an agenda of items to do in the house, plus for work. Yet, I wanted to linger outside to enjoy the awesome Autumn day just a little longer. So, I meandered over to Memorial Park and did a complete lap of that Park from Fort Street to Electric. But, then I was still greedy in wanting to enjoy the pretty morning so I walked still another complete lap. I had not strapped on my pedometer because I intended to do my usual Park route with two laps which would give me five miles, so I left it at home. I am sure I walked at least six miles today. I was feeling great, and pretty smug as well, by the time I arrived home. My letter carrier, Jenny, was just leaving my house and we stopped a moment to visit, and, of course, to remark on the beautiful day. I said I had been walking a solid two hours and racked up at least six miles. She laughed and said each day her route covers eleven miles. Well, that sort of burst my bubble, but my trek was a wonderful jaunt just the same.

No, the spellchecker did not suddenly go wacky … nor did I, but walking through Council Point Park on this foggy Friday had some mystical qualities to be sure. In my early morning jaunt, as the mist cast a cloak over me while I was walking to the Park, in my fogged-up head I was playing Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” … now my walk had no correlation at all to the song, but for the fog reference, and I was just thinking of that hauntingly beautiful music in that tune. While making my way around the two laps at the Park, I noticed that you couldn’t even see the other side of the perimeter path. In the expanse of the soccer field, ghost-like goal posts were scattered about and they looked a little eerie in the misty morning. Hulking trees seemed larger than normal as they loomed on the horizon. The grass was soaking wet and the slight breeze rustled in the trees causing them to shake droplets down on my head (at least I hope it was the trees and not a passing bird). Nary a critter was out this morning and I wondered if they deemed it unsafe to venture out when they could hardly see the humans as they walked along the trail. I would think they would rely on scent alone, but …. All the while the foghorns down on the River in Wyandotte kept bleating out a lonesome call, almost sounding dejected and forlorn, and then along came the 8:20 a.m. train likewise interrupting the still morn as it rolled on through the City. All in all, it was not the most-memorable walk, though the shadowy figures and misty morn provided fodder for fellow walkers and I to comment on. As I walked home, I decided it was a morning more suited for late October and the witchin’ season.

You won’t hear a soul complaining about it either.

I hustled out of the house as soon as it was light to get in two laps at the Park to add another five miles toward my goal. I chitchatted with the woman on Pagel Street who was sitting on her porch all bundled up in a big comforter, but still enjoying the coolish, but pretty, morning. Council Point Park sure was crowded, mostly with walkers, but a few joggers as well. It seemed that everyone was gaily waving to one another and crowing about the beautiful day. The dew was heavy on the grass and the sun illuminated the water droplets that speckled many of the colorful leaves as well. I snapped several pictures of smaller memorial trees which were already tinged with red or gold and those trees were looking very festive for Fall, belying the warm temps and Summer-like feel.

On the first lap, I scattered a few peanuts for the squirrels and they came running right away and then were sniffing for more. Meanwhile, an angry Blue Jay screeched down at me to leave a few for him as well. So, with my eye focused on the tree where he perched and was creating all the mayhem, I tossed a handful of peanuts nearby just for him. In record time, he swooped down to retrieve his prize. Jays are such large and beautiful birds that I never fail to be amazed at their beauty. I didn’t see or hear the woodpecker today – perhaps he has graduated to a taller tree or is spending the day with his mother learning more tips and tricks on how to be a woodpecker.

As I progressed along the trail, I rounded a bend and saw a huge Woolly Bear caterpillar slowly inching its way across my path. I stopped and looked at it, trying to recall what the configuration of his brown and black stripes meant regarding the Winter ahead. I took a picture but he was close to some dense brush so it probably won’t come out clearly. While I was checking out that fuzzy caterpillar, a fellow walker came along and was watching me take the picture so I explained the folklore surrounding this furry little guy. She hadn’t heard that story before, so as we walked along and chatted amiably, I shared some of the other weather folklore that is associated with nature. I found out that Ann Marie also enjoys walking the Park trail and has an affinity for birds, just like me – she has an African Grey parrot, so of course we had to trade stories about our pet birds.

The end of the trail was near and I reluctantly departed from the Park and walked most of the way home with Ann Marie who lives only a few streets away from me. When I checked my e-mail later on I found some gorgeous pictures of two hummingbirds that had arrived at my next-door neighbor Marge’s feeder. She snapped their photos up close, while their tiny wings were whirring fast, and their long beaks were sipping the sweet nectar in the red feeder.

I think Mother Nature took pity on us for our less-than-ideal Winter, Spring and even Summer, so she is re-inventing Fall to make up for those abysmal seasons and help to keep us just humming along.

Weather folklore or folly tells us that certain critters’ characteristics in the Fall are a precursor to a brutal Winter. The lowly woolly caterpillar’s coloring, the width of a squirrel’s bushy tail, and, even the increased shedding by horses and dogs, are all traits that naturalists use to predict the severity of the Winter. I believe that the Canada geese in the Park have been studying this year’s dire predictions and are headed South already. They’ve been absent in the Park for weeks now, so I wonder if they have a sixth sense and thus have left Michigan? The picture above is a tranquil scene at Council Point Park I took a few months ago … if I had to entitle it, I’d call it “Serenity”. But, back to the present – this morning when I arrived at the Park I was packing peanuts and my camera and looking for another photo op. It was a nifty fifty degrees, yet it didn’t feel as cold or blustery as the past few days. The sun was out and glinting off my glasses, sending warm rays my way. I was able to beat the train that comes rolling through around 8:20 a.m. and disturbs the peace as it toots and blows its whistle for a full five minutes to announce its arrival. I was solo the first lap and was puzzled where everyone was … people, that is … because, as I passed by a memorial tree, which is already resplendent in a mix of golden leaves, I heard a little tap, tap, tap. It was a very faint tapping, but then I heard it again. Trying to discern what it was, I backed up and looked above me in the tree. The very tiniest of woodpeckers was hanging upside down on a narrow branch taking drilling practice from a larger woodpecker much higher up in the tree. I started to pull my camera out of my pocket, but was afraid I’d startle him, so I just let it go. Like his tiny taps, he was rather minute as well, all downy and fluffy but with a longish spear-like beak that kept incessantly pecking that tree branch, while Mom, high above, interjected with her own staccato-like noise with louder precision every so often. The little guy’s antics made me smile and the scene was reminiscent of an instance at the Wyandotte/Lincoln Park border where I watched a passel of Canada geese and mallard moms teaching their offspring how to dive, nibble reeds and swim in a neat row. That was a sweet scene and I often replay it in my mind. The air was so still that the pecking seemed intensified, with only an occasional twitter from a nearby songbird. It was a peaceful scene indeed. As to the geese, it’s hard to speculate why those honkers aren’t hanging around, but I suspect their beaks have been buried in the “Farmer’s Almanac” and they’ve read its dire predictions. So, what’s a goose to do … but vamoose!!!!!

This first full day of Fall was just about as gorgeous as they come, wasn’t it? I was torn between just walking to Meijer to pick up some produce and lugging it home or taking the car out for a much-needed spin. Four wheels versus foot power won out since it was 10 days since it had been out of the garage, though I do go and start it every few days. My car is five years old today, and, as I drove into the garage, I glanced at the odometer and it read 2,827 miles, of which a whopping 205 miles have been driven so far this year.

It is three miles roundtrip to Meijer, and, even though I drove, I racked up three miles or 6,000 steps on the pedometer as well. This is because I park in the boonies and trudge in from there and then I leave my cart in the center of the store most of the time, and just walk to retrieve what I need.

As I strolled around the store, I noted that the school supplies have been tucked away ‘til next year now that the Halloween paraphernalia is out in full force. That décor takes up a sizeable chunk at one end of the store, and, at the other end we find Halloween goodies galore. I decided to reward myself with some apple cider, but not before I paused to peruse the caramel apples rolled in peanuts which I really love. But I swore off sweets in 2010 and decided not to start up again. Not to mention, I was somewhat conflicted on whether a caramel apple was technically a “sweet” or a “fruit”. My only sweet indulgence these days is chocolate or strawberry milk. However I succumbed to something silly and somewhat sweet when I got to the milk cooler. I bypassed the chocolate milk in favor of a half-gallon of TruMoo’s “Orange Scream” milk. When I put it in the fridge at home I have to admit I wondered aloud what I was thinking when I got it, but, I guess I was channeling the inner child in me … 3,000 steps forward and one gigantic step back.

Nothing says Fall like squirrels gathering nuts for the long Winter ahead. It was just a mini walk for me this morning as it was blustery and cold and I had alot going on at work today. I just stayed in the neighborhood as it would have been way too wet at the Park after all that rain the past few days. Everywhere I walked, I saw squirrels scampering about with a nut tucked in their mouth as they quickly scrambled up the nearest tree once they saw me. I still had peanuts tucked in my pocket from my last Park visit, so a few benefitted from not running in the opposite direction as I passed them by. The above picture is “our” resident neighborhood squirrel. His nickname is “Sammy” and he’s a cutie pie who can spy a peanut 50 yards away. I used to feed him, or his ancestors, on a daily basis, and now, he will scurry over to my next-door neighbor Marge’s deck in record time when he sees her emerge from the door wall dispensing a few peanuts on the deck exclusively for him. She spoils him with cookies sometimes too. Really, this little guy is no different than your fur kid who begs for a treat by sitting on his haunches or running in circles around your feet, except he flicks his tail instead of wagging it, all the while balancing precariously on the deck rail. Yes, he feeds on your peanuts and your kindness, then finishes up and goes to the next household of suckers and goes through similar antics. Oh well … we have never owned him exclusively, thus our feelings are never hurt. He is just like the Park squirrels … one handout and they will return over and over again.

Tonight at 10:29 p.m., Fall – the real deal and not this imposter we have been dealing with all Summer, will officially arrive. Well, as that saying goes … “been there and done that”. It has felt like Fall since Summer arrived, with the occasional hot and steamy day thrown in for good measure, but you won’t hear a complaint at my end – I prefer the cooler weather. There is no calendar page to turn to signify Fall’s arrival, but we do that in our mind and by donning a few extra layers going forward. As of today, we have a mere 100 days left ‘til we exit 2014.

er, hair ….

Well, it was just a feel-good day, wasn’t it? As I walked out the door, a strong sun was up and shining down and the birds were all atwitter in the neighborhood … what a gorgeous morning we were blessed with. I had my light jacket off before I even reached the Park so I had to tie it around my waist to enable me to dig in my cargo pockets for peanuts and the camera, when the occasion arose for each. There was a gusty breeze blowing which threatened to topple my bun and it pulled out some wayward tendrils which were whipping around my face as I walked. But it still felt good. Late Summer days like this should be bottled up and put away for those cold and blustery Winter days ahead. The Park was busy this morning … full of walkers, runners and a few bicyclists, and, of course everyone you passed along the trail commented on the beautiful morning. While walking home, I noticed that harvest décor is springing up everywhere. Fall is my all-time favorite season and I just love the holiday décor, especially the mums, hay bales and pumpkins, and, of course, those beautiful autumn wreaths that adorn so many doors. The scarecrows always make my day with their goofy grins and perpetual smiles. Perhaps we should take ourselves less seriously and manage to paste a smile on our face more often too.

It was only 43 degrees when I left for my walk this morning. WWJ’s meteorologist told listeners that Mackinac Island, at 48 degrees, was warmer than us despite the fact that they have already had a light frost up there. At this rate, I might need to dig out my woolen hat and gloves next week if these chilly mornings are the norm – after all, Fall arrives this coming Tuesday. “Southeast Michigan Weather” is a site I follow on Facebook and yesterday someone asked when they thought the first snow might arrive. They responded that it would be mid to late October. It is Day #1 of training camp for the Red Wings so I guess it is appropriate to have chilly air to get caught up in hockey fever, by snow in mid-October. Yikes!

I had a few errands to accomplish along Fort Street, so I managed to get another four miles under my belt. I was just pounding the pavement as I strolled along, so no nature walk today … or so I thought, but when I crossed from Lincoln Park to Wyandotte I had to walk over part of the Ecorse Creek which runs under Fort Street. As I usually do, I glanced over to the water where dead tree branches or garbage like boxes or the occasional wooden crate are always sticking out of the dark and murky Creek. But today, there was something large right in the middle of the Creek on top of the half-submerged tree. I stopped in my tracks and watched a large heron, roosting on a big tree branch. He had tucked his pencil-thin neck down close to his body and was standing on one leg. He really was huge, which made me wonder what he has been eating because certainly no fish are swimming around in that part of the Ecorse Creek, and surely the reeds and bushes on the Creek banks would not provide enough sustenance for him. He stirred, probably because he saw me and viewed this human as a threat. He then stood to his full height and stretched languorously, a regal-looking creature in rather unpleasant surroundings. He was better suited for Council Point Park where I’ve seen several herons already. Soon he took flight, those huge wings carrying him down the narrow corridor of the Creek ‘til I could see him no longer. Perhaps he will join his counterparts at Council Point Park and I will see him again soon.

Another gorgeous late Summer day which truly felt like Autumn had arrived. I headed down to Council Point Park and did two laps before I had to reluctantly tear myself away and head home. I arrived bearing “gifts” and started scoping out any of the usual peanut pals. My treasures included a fresh Ziploc bag of peanuts and a bigger bag with a half-dozen Pink Lady apples. The latter had been languishing in a corner of my vegetable bin in the fridge. They looked good before the power outage, but then after a day without refrigeration, they got a little soft and a tad wrinkly looking , so I decided I’d share them with my friends in the park. While I walked along the trail the first time around, I peered through the trees and bushes looking for my furry friends and didn’t see a single one, so I decided to make some “droppings” along the way. I set out each of the six apples at different locations along the perimeter path. On the second go-around, I noticed that four of the apples were already gone. Down the trail a few paces, one squirrel was sitting on his haunches happily gnawing away and still another squirrel was trying to carry, or maybe chase after, a half-eaten apple in the grass. I guess he was taking it home to the family. No squirrels were following me today, so I just kept the peanuts in my jacket pocket for the next trip.

As I walked along, I kept thinking about those squirrels enjoying their unexpected treat and it got me thinking about “horse apples” … no – it’s not what you think. Our neighbors Ann and Andy lived across the street for decades. They had large apple trees in their backyard. As each of their children arrived, they planted a tree to mark that child’s birth. There were two maple trees out front and two apple trees in the backyard, all planted in the 40s and 50s. But times were tough raising four kids who came along right after one another. Andy never sprayed those apple trees to prevent pests from attacking and burrowing into those apples before they got a chance to pick them and enjoy them. Those apple trees were bountiful anyway; some apples were perfect specimens and safe to eat, but many of them had worm holes or were otherwise imperfect. While the kids were growing up, alot of applesauce was made and even “put up” for Winter. Ann would stand for hours, peeling and coring apples, then her slight frame was hunched over the stove while she stirred and swirled those slices in a cast iron pot ‘til they were stewed, then simmered slowly into smooth, sweet and tangy applesauce. Through the years, and especially after Ann and Andy’s brood was gone, apples were offered to my mom, and she would make up batches of applesauce. But folks get older and spending the better part of an afternoon making applesauce got tiring. Ann asked if we knew anyone who’d like those less-than-perfect apples, as she didn’t want to waste food. Well, I knew the perfect recipient and soon I started lugging a bag on the bus every week to give to one of my bosses, Terry. His wife had a horse and these apples became that critter’s daily treat almost into the Winter. Terry and his wife each had their own hobbies – although he was a paralegal by day, his real love was his street stock race car, which he raced in Toledo or at Flat Rock Speedway every weekend in the Spring through the Fall. The wages he made as a paralegal helped support his hobby – gas and the substantial repair of dents and paint scrapes, the result of SS #81 being sideswiped too often at the track. His wife, Sheryl, had no interest in racing, as her passion was her horse. Well, they didn’t get in each other’s hair anyway. So, for many years that horse was blessed to be the beneficiary of those many McIntosh apples until Robb and I departed the law firm and went out on our own in 2003.

I left the Park wearing a silly grin on my face … I was thinking about that little squirrel chomping down on his treat and that horse with an apple clenched between his big teeth. Next time I visit, that squirrel will be on the lookout for me – maybe I ought to spring for cider and donuts … I do believe that one squirrel at the Park knows he is the apple of my eye. Just please don’t tell Buddy.

My trips to Council Point Park never disappoint … no expectations, just enjoying life’s little pleasures. Perhaps Henry Ward Beecher said it better than me …

“The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.”
~Henry Ward Beecher