WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, my housework took a beating during my last two long weekends of beautiful weather. Like the saying goes, “make hay while the sun shines”, so I took advantage of the sunny days to do some much-needed yard work and enjoy extra-long walks. Early this morning I got dressed, tied up my walking shoes and was out the door mumbling to myself “you silly goose – the housework will still be there for when you get to it” and besides we are slated for some rainy days this week, so then the housework will happen. During the course of that brutal Winter, how often I hankered to escape for a long walk at Council Point Park. Bye-bye dust bunnies … hello fuzzy little fella. Housework versus communing with nature up close and personal … there is no contest.

… TIN pig. Home again, home again jiggedy-jig.

Now a tin pig may not be everybody’s fancy but last week I saw it at Meijer and decided it would be the perfect yard ornament for next year’s country yard theme. When I initially checked out this little porker I thought perhaps it was a frivolous purchase since he was destined to sit out in Summer’s elements – torrential rain, humidity, gusty winds and the relentless sun beating down, so reluctantly I put it back on the shelf. But after I was home, I continued to imagine my yard with that last, perfect, down-home touch. He would join the likes of the other country critters and homespun relics I’ve amassed to date in my basement. So, was I weird to covet this rather homely, repurposed pig, fashioned out of bent, gunmetal-gray scrap tin with touches of medium blue along his jowls, snout, ears and curli-qued tail? Well, I just knew I’d squeal if I didn’t get that barnyard critter, so I walked to Meijer at the crack of dawn today to pick up the pig and some produce. Well, there it was, right where I left it, just bacon … er, begging, to come home with me. He will be placed front and center beside the garage when I reveal my country theme next Summer. You see, in the Spring of 2012 I decided that I was done with the whole routine of annuals … picking them out at the nursery, lugging the flats or pots all muddy and wet home from the store, then dividing and planting the flowers in baskets or pots … all this effort encompassed an entire day. Then, these high-maintenance annuals needed watering, fertilizing, pruning and deadheading on a near-daily basis, plus I still had to maintain the perennials and roses which filled the backyard. Enough already!! Besides, the walking bug had bitten me in the Fall of 2011, and you’ll recall that beautiful Winter/Spring we had with only one or two snow events and mild weather, so I walked nearly every day. When Spring 2012 arrived with its many yard chores destined to take a hefty chunk out of my walking time, I took one look at the many urns, pots and baskets in the garage and just said “ugh”. The challenge was how to make the front and side of the house look attractive and not forsake my walking regimen. I decided to plant artificial flowers instead. I carefully chose real silk flowers and wired their stems to mesh bags filled with gravel or river rock to weight them down in the various containers. Voila! Instant garden – no muss, no fuss. Several yard ornaments which are interspersed in the garden, add variety and enhance the potted blooms, mulch and my “me time” and all are neatly tucked away in the garage in the Fall until the following Spring. This is Year #3 for my current blooms and they are starting to fade a bit, but they still look real, even up close – take a look at the above photo. I’ve been collecting various country-type items for a few years, so the cute pig will fit in perfectly with that décor and sure won’t be “boaring”. So, today’s round trip to Meijer plus a few laps around the store, gave me four miles walked. I left the pedometer on while I lugged my yard décor out of the garage and basement and placed it around outside which yielded another two plus miles. I’m pretty pooped as I sit writing this blog, but with that big chore done and with my prize pig in hand, I guess you could say I’m in hog heaven.

My boss slid out of town before dawn to drive to my homeland. His destination was his family cottage near Cape Crocker in Wiarton, Ontario and it was the first trip of the season. I therefore seized the opportunity to grab an extra loop of walking time on the Council Point Park perimeter path, then topped that exercise off with a three-hour yard work extravaganza. I, too, was up early, and on the way by 7:30 a.m. where I met up with at least a half-dozen walkers who were mid-way through their regimen. The usual dogs were there as well, their owners choosing the Park as their go-to “dog park”, even though the dogs must be kept leashed at all times. It was a picture-perfect day and we are slated for a weekend to rival this beautiful Friday. My sweatshirt cardigan was off before I’d even finished half of a loop and I slung it around my shoulders preppy-style, but that soon got uncomfortably hot, so I next tied it around my waist and even that was way too warm. Luckily I had my bag that was brimming with critter goodies so I finally slipped the sweater into the bag as I knew I’d be dispensing bread and peanuts in record time. By now, overly encumbered, I marched along, determined to get five miles under my belt before I traded my walking shoes for my gardening shoes. I kept glancing up at the sky, hoping to catch sight of the Goodyear Blimp which is usually tethered at the Grosse Ile Airport. Though it makes alot of noise when directly overhead, you often see the oblong speck long before you hear it. For years it would pass over the house twice a day – heading to and from the Grand Prix festivities in Detroit. If I happened to be outside when it was enroute to downtown, I was always awestruck at how large and sleek it was and how effortlessly it glided along in the air. At night it was a sight to see when it was all lit up and displaying its LCD message on the side in the dark of evening. But the Blimp was nowhere to be seen this morning – too bad as I had the camera ready as well. All that I saw in this cloudless sky was ol’ Mr. Sun persistently shining down, sunbeams reaching out far and wide. It was a welcome sight indeed after our brutal Winter and cold Spring. Several of the walkers at the Park have already donned wide-brimmed straw hats or flap hats and “Jackie O” sunglasses. One diminutive older woman travels the trail with a golf umbrella which she places directly over her head and that big umbrella almost dwarfs her … all you see are legs and the striped umbrella strolling down the trail. But she, and the others, are taking no chances on their sun protection. The last few days I’ve heard alot of media reports about legislation to regulate the notices about the dangers of indoor tanning and sunlamps. We really don’t need the legislation nor the media coverage, because we all are mindful that while the sun’s warmth feels good on our bare skin, too much exposure is really not good for us. My mom was warning me about staying out in the sun too long because I am fair-skinned and thus more susceptible to sunburns, long before sun protection factors and the dangers of frying yourself to get a golden glow were commonplace knowledge. She encouraged me not to be a fool and lay out in the sun on the cement sidewalk or use tin foil apparatuses positioned near my head since way back in my teens. She even tried to appeal to my vanity by admonishing me and telling a tale that many decades in the future, long after she was gone, I would end up with skin that was akin to shoe leather, not smooth and supple. My mom and grandmother only used Noxzema skin cream on their respective faces and both had skin like a baby. Of course I did not listen and I used a sunlamp as well, ending up with a red face and white raccoon eyes where the goggles had been placed. Over the years, I’ve listened to the experts and tried to use sunscreen but it was usually dripping off my skin after a bout of toiling in the yard or walking or exercising in the heat. I even bought a wide-brimmed straw hat but found it awkward to wear while working out in the yard and big sunglasses would slip and slide down my nose as soon as I started to sweat so I abandoned them all. It seemed my only concession was wrapping a bandana around my head to preserve my painstakingly placed, foiled-in highlights in my light-brown tresses because I did not want them to fade. Well, my skin doesn’t look like an alligator yet Mom, and years later I may regret my foolish actions, but hey – you can’t tell a teenager anything sometimes, because, like me, they seemingly know it all, eh?

This morning I took an extended walk at Council Point Park since my boss was out at a meeting. I don’t always get time for a second lap during the work week, especially if I stop countless times along the way to feed the critters or take a few pictures. I saw the usual flora and fauna, including a few peanut pals who have now resurfaced following the long holiday. I strongly suspect that they might have been hiding in their nests or hidey holes due to the influx of geese that have been around lately. All those extra geese and their antics, i.e. honking, squawking and flapping their wings like supreme divas, probably terrify the poor squirrels. So, I used up a Ziploc bag of peanuts in no time to treat them and soon had a little parade going on behind me which made me smile. On the second lap I noticed some new folks on the trail. An older gentleman was rolling along the perimeter path on his walker with wheels, while an older woman, presumably his wife, grasped the side of the walker with one hand and clasped the handle of a leash that led to a white toy poodle with her other hand. The dog was a little impatient and straining at the bit to go faster, but the woman held him back. Finally he complied with her wishes and walked along quietly beside his master and mistress and kept pace with them. On the heels of this threesome was another elderly couple who strolled along occasionally turning to speak to one another … or to just smile. The white-haired couple were holding hands as they walked and I couldn’t help but think … new love … or love through the ages? It made me feel good to see these two couples – perhaps they were just good friends and not mates. Who knows? We did not speak, but I smiled when I passed them in the opposite direction. I was left with a warm feeling, after knowing so many couples who don’t make it – divorce or death often tarnishes the golden years. Sometimes, certain wildlife are more faithful to their mates than mankind. Canada geese mate for life, and if the mate dies, the remaining goose will remain solo forever. It was pretty heady stuff to think about so early in the morn but I have to say they made my day.

I hope our 24 hours of torrential rain and thunder boomers are done for now but look how blessed we were to enjoy such a splendid weather weekend and the rain returned after the holiday drew to a close. I just went on a small stroll this morning as it was a little murky and wet and the sky was looking ugly as if the clouds would open up any minute. I’m not a fan of walking in the rain, but a post-rain promenade is fine and the nostrils got a chance to identify a few new smells, among them the aftermath of everyone’s landscaping ventures over the long weekend. The scent of recently mowed grass, fertilizer and the aroma of mulch filled the air and I think it even smelled of worms as well. No really!! It seems as though everyone packed down a ton of mulch over the weekend and the air was pungent with cedar and cypress as I walked through the neighborhood. I watched airborne elm seeds settle down on newly laid mulch and I suspect there will be sprouts everywhere within the week – I know that for a fact since mulch weeds are problematic for me too. Sometimes I am lazy and just grab a hand rake and turn over the bark and bury those weeds for a week or so, then repeat the process until they just die off. What mulch pieces I don’t turn over, the rambunctious robin will come along and pluck the pieces out with his beak and toss them up and over the edging and onto the lawn in his ever-present, worm-finding expeditions. Oh well … we cannot control Mother Nature’s critters for they have a mind of their own.

I am closing this post with one of my favorite Maya Angelou quotes … I was sad to hear about her passing earlier today:

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~ Maya Angelou

It was breezy on my walk this morning and it seemed that Mother Nature had given her head a mighty shake and the result was a zillion little dots, which littered the sidewalks and covered my head and shoulders while I walked along. These were, of course, the elm seeds which were literally flying through the air and landing in little drifts and piles everywhere. At Council Point Park the “elm dandruff” continued and every walker that passed me was likewise covered in tiny seeds. In fact, we laughed amongst ourselves about all the tree lint that was airborne these days, necessitating brushing off at the back door before entering the house. We also commiserated over the muggy morning and I told them that we Michiganders are malcontents when it comes to the weather. Those pesky little elm seeds are a pain wherever they land. Over the years they’ve lodged themselves into mulch or ornamental rock, and without a speck of soil, they’ve grown into hardy saplings. Take a look at these two elm trees in the above photo. They are close to the banks of the Ecorse Creek and grow on one of the bends along the Park perimeter path. One tree grew straight and tall and the other is healthy but twisted over on its side. Nature sure is funny sometimes.

My last stop before heading home this morning was a visit to Memorial Park, where I sometimes walk as it is located near my home. I’ve included a picture of the memorial area with this post. I always try to make a trip over on Memorial Day to reflect on those who lost their lives and on Veterans Day to honor those who have served or continue to serve their country, often in harm’s way. Our Memorial Day parade is generally held the weekend before the holiday and at the conclusion of the parade “Taps” is played and wreaths are laid at the huge granite memorial where bronze plaques list the war dead from World Wars I and II as well as the Korean and Vietnam conflicts. I did not see any wreaths this year at the memorial and I hope it is not just because our City (which is in dire financial straits and on the brink of being run by an emergency manager) could not afford this usual tribute. The huge granite memorial honoring the City’s fallen servicemen looked very bare without its usual red, white and blue floral tributes. This year there were about 30 brand-new American flags planted around Memorial Park near the pavilion, historic cannon and near the Fallen Heroes memorial dedicated to Sergeant Craig S. Frank, a member of the Army National Guard who died on July 17, 2004 during Operation Iraqi Freedom. While this group of flags interspersed amongst the war mementoes was stunning, it was not as stirring as “The Healing Fields” flag display which has graced Memorial Park the past few years, wherein many flags were lined up in perfect rows around the memorial area and out to Fort Street. It was quite awe-inspiring, with the flags representing every soldier from Lincoln Park who lost their life in a war. Each flag had a hang tag with information about the name, rank, date and place of death of the fallen soldier. Though I don’t know anyone personally who died in these conflicts, I feel compelled to take a moment to honor their memory and their ultimate sacrifice so that we may enjoy freedom. Thank you.

I got an extra dose of Vitamin D these past few sunny days with long walks and time spent working in the yard in an effort to restore my gardens to their former splendor. Just like the past two days, I took a long walk at Council Point Park before heading out for dreaded yard work. Today, I did a thorough inspection of the objects of my pruning efforts two weeks ago. I am pleased to report that the haircut and fertilizer might have boosted my spirits after I was suffering some post-Polar Vortex gloom and doom over my roses. Four of my six rosebushes are full of red and green leaves – two are still iffy, but do have new growth. I tried hard not to compare my Knock Out roses, which reached the top of the fence line, to those short, squat and bloomless plants that are now barely one foot tall, but I believe they will rally back. The Nelly Moser clematis is kicking and screaming to make a comeback with its tender tendrils starting to climb toward the sky once again, and an added bonus is the appearance of a couple of buds. By Memorial Day my largest clematis’ blooms are usually long-spent and scattered on the ground, but this year, every bud will be precious and treated with TLC. Perhaps I took all my perennials for granted – they were there for so long and returned every Spring with minimal care. The other three problem bushes are not looking so great though. Despite my pouring half a bag of Holly-tone on the holly, the 4X4 foot bush has a mere eight new leaves on it … but eight leaves are better than the zero leaves which it had two weeks ago when I took my pruning shears and went on a tear throughout the yard. This weekend I painstakingly snipped each tiny branch and most are at least supple, so I am keeping my fingers crossed. Two more longstanding bushes, also planted in 1985, are dubious and I suspect have bitten the dust, though the Garden Doctor on WJR tells his listeners to “have patience with all your plants, bushes and trees and keep the chainsaw at bay for now” … I shall abide by his sage wisdom and evaluate everything once again by the 4th of July holiday. While I steadily nipped away and pulled out handfuls of weeds as well, the woodpecker was busily tap-tap-tapping on a tree somewhere nearby and the songbirds filled the air with their joyous songs. A cardinal’s unmistakable tweeting for which seemed like eons, produced a sound almost as if that bird was sending messages in Morse Code – it would tweet endlessly, then stop, start a few notes, stop, then repeat the process several times again before going full throttle with the tweets once again. Ever the optimist, I interpreted the cardinal’s message to say “don’t despair – the best is yet to come” … how is that for positive thinking? Speaking of positive thinking, I wanted to include with today’s post a photo of a house I pass everyday enroute to the Park. The family has a son in the military and you cannot help but notice the yellow ribbons adorning the two house pillars and the tree out front. The ribbon is not “around the old oak tree” like the subject of that popular song, but the maple tree props up that ribbon and the family as well. A sign on the lawn tells us a son is in the service and the service flag in the window states there is a family member serving their country. I thought it fitting that I include this photo on this Memorial Day holiday. No matter the worry, small or large, keep the faith … sometimes it’s all we’ve got.

It was picture-perfect and mid-way through the long holiday weekend when I set off to Council Point Park, treats in hand, camera in pocket and happy to be strolling on such a beautiful day. As I wended my way through the usual neighborhoods, I noted not too many folks were out and about on this sleepy Sunday morn. I guess they made their trek to the Great North as early as Friday to extend their holiday getaway. Once at the Park, the usual gang was there – humans that is, and many had been up and at it long before me and were already walking to their cars in the parking lot. But where were my furry friends who usually scamper over to greet me as I walk the perimeter path? The Ziploc bag of peanuts went untouched as nary a squirrel scurried over to see me today. I’ve about given up on the mallard ducks returning to “Duck Landing” … it has been way too long into the season now and they are still absent from their former gathering spot. I hope they were not all lost in the course of our brutal, bitter-cold Winter. This morning I got a real treat when I rounded the bend on the perimeter path and came upon Mama and Papa Canada Goose sunning themselves on the cement precipice while one offspring toddled around between them. I slid behind a large bush so that I could watch the trio and perhaps get a shot of the youngster, who has grown in leaps and bounds since I last saw the group of goslings on Mother’s Day weekend. Well, this gosling, once a cute and fuzzy chick, has lost his babyish features, and now the mottled gray and yellow downy feathers are sleeker. His plump physique now looks like a boat on sticks, because, as you see in the picture above, this youthful gosling has extraordinarily long legs … and he or she was quite shaky on them. After falling over a couple of times, Mama was mindful of just how close her youngster got to the edge of the cement landing which covers the storm drain. Finally, she had had enough of the shenanigans and got up and just walked alongside her baby. I snapped several pictures and they might have heard the camera noise because then Papa stood up, looked around and soon both adults surrounded their little one. I walked closer to the trio and from a short distance I tossed some crumbled-up bread which caused the gosling to spring free from his folks and he began to gobble it up eagerly. Then, the parents came over to have some bread, so I tossed another handful near them which was gratefully received and consumed quickly. Well, just as I was enjoying the idyllic family scene and interacting with my feathered friends, along comes TROUBLE which I’ll tell you about in today’s #2 post …

While I enjoyed watching the Canada Goose family who clustered around me enjoying the morning treat I had provided for them, and, just as I reached into the bag for a third scoop to toss out, a couple of geese that had been grazing nearby, came waddling over to get a piece of the action. Within minutes there was much honking and carrying on. I tossed out more tidbits and the latecomers were eager to partake in the goodies, except one was so anxious for a treat that he stepped forward and cut the other off at the pass. Thereafter, much raucous honking ensued from the wayward pair, and one goose, clearly annoyed, starting hissing and sticking its dark-pink tongue out while flapping its huge wings in an effort to chase the other goose off. Such atrocious table manners! But all that huffing and puffing didn’t stop his counter-part from contentedly nibbling on the bread, so the rabble-rouser tried a different tactic … putting his head down low, and running as fast as he could on wide-webbed feet, he next started ramming his beak into the side of the other goose! I was amazed, and a little horrified, to have witnessed this “goosing” incident with me standing right there, so I quickly spread the rest of the bread and got the heck out of Dodge before I was the next target! It was only later, when I uploaded this photo, did I see that gorgeous graffiti in the background lending a little humor to the fractious pair … well, boo-hiss back at ya!