WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

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!

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”.