WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

I was thinking, while walking on this beautiful, sunny, albeit breezy and a tad brisk morning, that Spring might have finally settled in. While I meandered along on the first getaway weekend of the year, I was headed to my favorite mini getaway – Council Point Park. The maple seeds a/k/a “helicopters” were fluttering all around in the breeze and a few landed on my sleeves as I walked along. The birds were singing out when I passed them and as I entered the Park at the forked path, I couldn’t help but notice most of the bright-yellow dandelions had gone to seed. As I stood and surveyed the vast expanse of the Park and the tall and gangly dandelion stems with their fuzzy orbs, I thought they looked like alien lollipops. Some of those “lollipops” were nearly a foot high and listing to one side. As I walked along the perimeter path on my two-loop trip, there was dandelion dander floating all over the place. I thought if the cottonwood fibers were likewise floating around, the robins would be headed down here to grab some to pad their respective nests. Since my last trip, the grass had been mowed, and dead grass was clumped up everywhere lending an almost eerie look between the “lollipops” and brown, straw-like grass. In places where the riding mower failed to squeeze in and grab the longish grass, tall batches of blades that had already gone to seed looked like ornamental grass waving in the breeze. The flying fuzz got me thinking about what we used to call “Santa’s Whiskers” when I was a kid. They looked like Santa’s beard and we’d catch them in mid-air with cupped hands, make silly wishes and then quickly release them to send them on their way. Do you remember Santa’s Whiskers? They are pictured above if you don’t. Ahh, the good ol’ days … when nature’s delights, not electronics, captured our attention and fueled our imagination. Now, while some would say this was a “fluff piece”, I’d prefer to just think of it as still another trip down memory lane.

I can’t win for losin’. I spent two days running errands, grocery shopping and going to eye doctor and allergist appointments … I had planned to walk to those two appointments yesterday, but the weather was looking a little funky at 7:30 a.m. when I was ready to leave, so reluctantly, I had to drive. I knew this morning would be stormy, so I just slept in. I am hearing that we will enjoy a series of bright and sunny days coming up for the long weekend – well, let’s keep our fingers crossed this comes to fruition as we sure deserve it don’t we? I am hopeful to get in some long walks over the holiday since I am now neck-in-neck re: miles driven versus miles walked, and I simply can’t let that happen, since at the tail end of 2013 I ended up with 100 more miles walked than driven. This year’s stats are a sad testament to my 2014 walking regimen to date, since I never even backed the car out of the garage from January 16th to March 16th! Tomorrow, I vow to surge ahead and leave that miles-driven stat behind in the dust à la California Chrome.

A week between visits to Council Point Park was simply too long for me. The weather took its toll on my walking regimen so I had to be content with a few short hops and staying put the rest of the time. In the week while I was away from the Park, all the trees came out – nearly every tree was adorned in either brilliant green leaves or in beautiful blossoms. The vast grounds were similarly adorned … with dandelions that is. They were everywhere and some places it was hard to see the grass for the golden yellow heads dotting the landscape as you see in the picture above. I had on a dark coat and when I arrived home, as I hung my coat on the hall tree, I saw the shoulders and sleeves were covered with yellow pollen. Allergists had predicted the Polar Vortex events would cause everything to leaf out or bloom at once thus causing a disastrous double whammy for people with Spring allergies. I am in that category. Today’s dusting of pollen on my clothes and a two-loop trip around the Park made me a sitting duck for a series of sneezes soon after I arrived home. I just figured I was mellow yellow after venturing out – mellow from a trip to my favorite go-to spot and yellow from pollen flying through the air, so why not entitle my post as such? I do wish I’d not thought of that silly old Donovan song though, as it’s been an earworm the rest of my day.

Another coolish May morn … no, wait – make that a downright cold Michigan May morn. It was 37 degrees when I left the house in the seven o’clock hour. But we were lucky – we didn’t have a freeze warning for our plants, and unlike the U.P., where people woke up to snow flurries just after the last of their 17-foot snowfall melted, at least we were not getting any of the white stuff. After last Sunday’s severe haircut to my stand of Knock Out Roses, and, after the torrential rain events earlier this week, I was curious to see how my rose bushes fared. I must admit I was almost afraid to look. Actually, the haircut was a better description of how I handled the smaller shrub roses – the larger roses were so brittle, large and unwieldy, it was more of a hack job. So, I stole around to the backyard – well, looking good … three of the four Knock Out Roses have tiny green and dark red foliage. The shrub roses have rallied back as well – no buds, but at least some greening up from the bottom. Even the large clematis looks promising, with a few green shoots and flimsy tendrils. So, that wee peek at the backyard buoyed my spirits somewhat and determined this morning’s agenda. I hopped into the car and took off for Meijer to peruse the plant rescue products. Since I am trying to have a positive outlook over my post-Winter garden disaster, I bought enough products to fertilize everything through the Summer. Twenty minutes later I came away $75.00 poorer, but hopefully holding the Rx to restore my damaged plants and bushes. As usual, I parked far away from the store to get in a meager walk back-and-forth, then I walked in and around the garden area. I left the pedometer in place while I worked out in the yard and I managed to muster two miles, which is not too bad for an errand/yard work morning. I dragged my wonder products to the backyard, scraped aside the dirt and mingled in the pellets, then covered them up and patted down the earth. Next, I moved on to nurture the holly with a similar product. At the end of all that bending , I groaned after straightening up, wishing my morning agenda had been a nice stroll in Council Point Park. I surveyed the backyard, once my little paradise, and it is looking sorely in need of alot of TLC right now. I’ve also lost half my perennials from this brutal Winter. Well, “chin up” I told myself as I put my yard utensils away. I glanced up at the thickening dark clouds. Perfect timing! The predicted rain will come to fruition and help “the cause” since it is out of my hands now, though, as of this writing I still await those promised raindrops. If the rain comes in the middle of the night while I am fast asleep, I’ll have to rely on my trusty rain gauge, pictured above, since their future beauty and fate now depends upon a little rain, much sunshine and … I’ll just defer to ol’ Mother Nature to take care of the rest.

Well, maybe now – not so much, though we got to enjoy them for about a day anyway. As often happens with magnolia bushes and trees, the buds took forever to develop, opened over those couple of hot, hot days the tail end of last week, only to have the wild and wicked weather over the past few days strip those beautiful pink petals right off the branches. Now, sadly, they are strewn, wilted and brown, all over the lawns and smashed down, ingrained into and staining the concrete sidewalks. It really is a shame. I started taking pictures of the magnolia bush in my neighbor Marge’s front yard over the course of a few days last week. I thought the gradual opening of the buds would make an interesting time-lapse photography slideshow to accompany this blog post. Unfortunately, I clicked off two nice shots and then the buds were open … gorgeous shades of pink for perhaps a day, then quickly spent. Hasn’t this weather been horrible? It sure has wreaked havoc with my walking regimen and my allergies – in fact, I probably sneezed twenty times while writing this post. I saw the little ditty below posted on the Old Farmer’s Almanac Facebook site and it made me laugh because it is so true. Didn’t I just say the other day that I had already whined about the heat despite saying mid-Winter (or probably as late as mid-April) I would not complain about Summer’s sultry days? How quickly we forget and Summer is far from here anyway! I, for one, am glad we are returning to cooler temps for a few days. I don’t like storms, and if you’ve followed my blog since last Summer, you’ve sensed my apprehension every time volatile weather is predicted. My great grandmother lived on a farm and she used to sprinkle holy water around the house every time a bad storm was imminent; my grandmother followed in her footsteps and did the exact same routine. It helped because neither had storm damage caused by winds, fallen trees or lightning strikes. I don’t have any holy water to sprinkle, but I do worry every time it is storming as there are huge, old trees all around me. Some people like the soothing sound of the rain pelting against the house – that I don’t mind; I just don’t like those huge, jagged lightening slashes or the loud rumbling of the thunder. My mom used to tell me when I was a young girl that thunder was caused by God moving his furniture. Well, he must have busy up there and done a ton of re-arranging the past few days! Stay dry … our wet-weather barrage is not over yet and may be lasting through the weekend.

“About the weather, man’s a fool.
When it’s hot he wants it cool.
When it’s cool he wants it hot.
Always wants it what it’s not.”
~~Anonymous (posted on the Old Farmer’s Almanac Facebook site)

A downy woodpecker was my alarm clock this morning. I fell back to my old ways and believed the weatherman that heavy rain and storms would last through the night and wee hours of the morning. I figured it might be too wet to walk and set the alarm clock for later. Over the weekend I got up early both days as I tried to factor two walks, housework, yard work, cooking, laundry and job-related work into 48 hours – whew, it plum tuckered me out! I slept through any storms we had as I didn’t hear them, but what I did hear was the rat-a-tat-tat of a downy woodpecker drilling through the large oak trees in the yard behind. It was alot of noise for such a small bird. You see him pictured above as he and a sparrow feast on a suet cake supplied by my neighbor Marge on her back deck. When “Woody” is not feasting on suet cake, he is ravaging the nearby trees looking for a little meat, i.e. grubs and ants and spiders. I don’t know what he found for his Monday morning breakfast, but I hope he was successful. Through sleepy eyes, I could see the sun was already up on the wall down the hall. Sigh. Well, I was not going to let a walking opportunity pass me by, even a short walk. Since it was already late, I hurriedly ate breakfast, slurped down a half-cup of coffee, got dressed and was on my way. I managed to get in a few miles anyway. As I turned the corner to my street, I saw the yard waste truck huffing and puffing in front of my house for which seemed like forever while a total of nine yard waste bags full of my dead Knock Out Roses were shoveled into the back of the truck and gobbled up in record time. I felt badly as I hacked down the thorny branches yesterday. It took me decades to grow those roses that large and full, and nearly four hours to cut them down to about six inches high to try to salvage them. It was a big effort and I have many thorn scratches despite having my arms encased in a heavy sweatshirt plus wearing thick leather gloves to do the job. One thorn is embedded in the heel of my hand which I will have to deal with later today. I cut down the smaller shrub roses and clematis, all which were looking rather dicey, then I stripped the dead leaves off my holly bush and trimmed it up a little. I am similarly hoping for the best for that long-standing bush. Perhaps all this rain will help the cause and resuscitate these bushes but at least it doesn’t look like the garden belongs to the Addams family anymore.

I arrived at Council Point Park fairly early this morning and the path was rather desolate and I saw not a single being: feathered, furry or otherwise, as I walked three loops on the “scenic side. I was not distracted by the Relay for Life festivities in the other loop today, because as I cut through the parking lot to get to the entrance to the Park, the participants were commending the top teams that raised the most money for the American Cancer Society and shutting down the event ‘til next year. It was quiet and peaceful and gave me time to muse about Mother’s Day and my mom while I meandered along the Park perimeter path. I thought about the phrase above: “you will always be my baby – no matter how old you are” because my mom uttered that phrase to me many times over the years. Sometimes she’d write those words, or perhaps she penned a variation in my birthday card like “To my baby … – Love, Mom” while other times I’d come home to find a favorite treat in the oven or on the stove, and she’d say “well, it’s my baby’s favorite food isn’t it?” Thinking about that phrase brings treasured memories and a tear to my eye as well. As to greeting cards, over the years we kept all the greeting cards we ever gave each other. Of course, Mom amassed more than I did, for there were Mother’s Day cards along with the birthday cards and sometimes I’d give her little cards “just because”. For example, she quit smoking “cold turkey” in May of 1985 after announcing “this is my last cigarette ever” having smoked two packs a day for over forty years. So, each year on May 5th I got her a card and a little gift since she never went back on her word. Whatever the occasion, we always stood our greeting cards on the kitchen corner cabinet for about a week or so, then the card was relegated into a large bag we kept in a living room drawer with all our special cards from over the years. There were alot of cards. There were alot of years. And, even today, I cannot bring myself to open that bag now that she is gone, so it stays in the drawer. Maybe someday, but not yet. This is the fifth Mother’s Day I’ve passed without my mom … it is a little easier now to walk in the stores without getting a lump in my throat as I go past the bouquets of flowers or cheerful potted plants with a “To Mom” hangtag on them. I simply dodge the bakery aisle with the specialty cakes with frosting that features pretty handwriting saying “Happy Mother’s Day” … but sometimes, something will pull at a heartstring and memories will come flooding back. Memories and photos are good to have and very treasured as time marches on. This photo above is a personal favorite – Mom and me the first day home from the hospital. Miss you Mom.
Just sign me “The Sentimentalist”.

It seems to me that somehow Mother’s Day, the one day guaranteed to make Mom feel all warm and fuzzy, has now morphed into Mother’s Day weekend, and, in radio ads I even heard it referred to as Mother’s Week. Well, in my opinion, I say … why not? Never pass up the opportunity to pay homage to your Mom if she is still alive and make her feel special, because after all, you owe your very existence to her.

As I walked to the Park this morning, I was thinking about Mother’s Day. I was hoping to find a Canada Goose with her goslings and take their picture to accompany my post today. However, I figured the wildlife would be scarce at Council Point Park today since the Lincoln Park Relay for Life, sponsored by the American Cancer Society, was scheduled to start at 10:00 a.m. I know from last year, it is a hubbub of activity 24/7 at the Park for two solid days. I planned to arrive fairly early and walk a few laps before it got crowded. But as I drew near I heard a loud speaker booming out, the parking lots were filled to capacity and there were at least twenty tents pitched around the more open portion of the Park. There were massive floodlights everywhere and stands set up for the luminaria bags which will be lit when darkness falls. The smell of fresh hot coffee lingered in the air and people were bustling about, scurrying to and fro with coolers, camp chairs and cameras.

So, as I set out on the perimeter path, I figured I’d stay on only the one side this weekend, away from all the festivities. Along the way, I called out “good morning” or remarked on the beautiful day to all the “regulars”, and a young fellow riding his mountain bike laughed every time he passed me by, and he said “they really like you” since I had a passel of peanut pals trailing along behind me at any given time. Besides peanuts in the shell, I had toted a half-bag of crumbled up bread, having made a pit stop the other day at Meijer, and I was more than willing to share it with whatever water fowl came my way. Again, the ducks were not present at what used to be their usual gathering place, but at least a dozen Canada Geese were grazing in the lush green grass in the “donut hole” or center of the perimeter path. I reached into the bag and tossed out a handful or two, and the gaggle of geese lifted their heads up from the grass to see what I was offering. Well, they just about inhaled that bread in a matter of seconds, so I tossed another handful, and then who should come along but Mama and Papa with their brood? I couldn’t have planned that better! Still another handful of bread was thrown and the goslings soon toddled over and nibbled delicately at the bread tidbits. In one swift motion, I hurriedly tossed out some more and grabbed the camera. By now, several of the walkers had stopped and whipped out their camera phones and soon a half-dozen people were checking out the fuzzy chicks and their parents through the camera lens instead of their peepers. That’s okay because when they returned home today, they had a warm and fuzzy story and picture to share with their loved ones on this Mother’s Day weekend.

When I left the house this morning, I was without hat, gloves or coat at last … well, how crazy is this Michigan weather when I shivered two days ago in my heavy Winter duds? Yesterday we set a record for heat when we reached 87 degrees. I turned on the A/C at 6:30 p.m. when the thermostat read 81 degrees in the house and it was hot and stifling. Well, I thought the weather just got too hot, too fast and it’s not really my cup of tea, despite my protestations all Winter long that I would not whine when the heat finally settled in. Just a few days ago the weather folks reminded us to protect our tender plants if they were already in the ground as there was a frost warning overnight. This morning when I left for my walk it was 72 degrees already. This weather syndrome, which us Michiganders joke about, saying “if you don’t like the weather in Michigan, wait five minutes” certainly has been true this week. As I write this post, the threat of severe weather looms from thunderstorms, which, in part, are bubbling up from the extreme heat.

While I was walking this morning I was ruminating about my beautiful roses pictured above. A quick trip to the backyard before I left on my walk once again left me reeling over the damage the Polar Vortex events and brutal Winter inflicted on my long-established plants. Most distressing is my row of Knockout Roses which appear to have bitten the dust – there is no sign of life in their brittle stems as far as I can tell. They were hardy when I put the garden to bed in the Fall. This picture above was taken in early Summer, because in general, by Fall, the rosebushes usually have spread and grown up to the fence top having bloomed profusely all season. It appears I have lost two additional smaller shrub rosebushes which were planted in the mid-80s. There is no sign of life in my long-established Nelly Moser Clematis, just dead and tangled stems hanging on the trellis where its many tendrils always hung on as it climbed up to the sky for the past ten years. I feel just sick after taking stock of the backyard gardens, but out front, my large holly bush is likewise brown and brittle and similarly planted in 1985. I hope that the malady is just the cool Spring and there might be some hope yet, but it does not look very promising for any of these plants or bushes right now. I fear stopping to smell the roses along the way just got a little more difficult, if not an impossible task … at my house anyway.

When I walked on Tuesday morning, I passed Ford Park and the tree above was the only one in this park that was resplendent in tender, bright-green leaves. This willow looked a little odd since all the rest of the trees at this venue were still bare, making this big willow tree almost look out of place, like perhaps it had been Photo-shopped into a black-and-white scene. Now, trees don’t have feelings, of course, but if there was a thought bubble overhead it would have proclaimed “it’s not easy being green” when all the other trees are still the proverbial ugly ducklings. This morning, however, when I passed this park, the rest of the trees, had curling leaves beginning to unfurl throughout Ford Park. I am sure when I walk by tomorrow morning the whole park will have come alive in the expanse of 24 hours, just like time-lapse photography. Pastel palettes of pinks a ‘plenty were in abundance. This sudden spate of warm weather enhanced the surge of flowering plum and crabapple blossoms on several trees which looked so dainty and pristine amongst the old and weathered-looking, sturdy playground equipment. A magnolia tree or two had buds just on the verge of bursting open and after today’s heat, they will probably be blooming tomorrow and drop their petals on Saturday. This beautiful big willow tree has been a focal point in Ford Park, formerly known as Buckingham Park , for as long as I can remember. In fact, in 1966, the year we moved to the States, I spent most of my Summer vacation days at Buckingham Park. They always had a college student who was in charge of kids’ activities at the Park and she oversaw the arts and crafts projects, as well as monitoring the playground equipment and supervising the wading pool. We used to make alot of crafts, mostly out of long plastic laces, which we would purchase at the Park for three cents for a three-foot length in every color imaginable. The laces were painstakingly woven together and fashioned into lanyards. At one time we had so many of these lanyards around the house I thought I’d never need to buy one the rest my life. The wading pool was awesome on scorching hot days and we would while away the hours playing board games like checkers, Chinese checkers or Mancala and when boredom set in, there was plenty of playground equipment to use. My friends and I would arrive early in the day and there were no worries by our moms as they knew we were in good hands until dinnertime. All us girls would share secrets and sandwiches and trade sweets and other goodies from our brown bag lunches while sitting under the shade of this same big ol’ willow tree. Life was simple and easy in those days wasn’t it? You exerted alot of energy, got alot of Vitamin D from being out in the sun all day and pretty much crashed and burned after dinner was done. The next day you’d do it all again, the same routine all Summer ‘til Labor Day, except for the two weeks you tore yourself away from your pals and went on the annual family vacation. No guilty pleasures – just youthful sweet and simple pleasures.