WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well today I wasn’t alone while I trekked outside on Day #3 of this Deep Freeze saga. After bundling up, I decided I felt a little like a farmer pulling on his heavy clothes to leave the warm farmhouse and traipse through the snowy fields to the cold barn to tend to his livestock. I stepped out the side door to find a bright blue sky and a brilliant sun shining down. Mr. Sun seemed to mock me as I trudged to the garage and around the house doing my daily cold-weather “chores” as he sure didn’t provide any warmth. Amazingly, after all these gray days, or gazing at flurries or white-outs, I actually saw my shadow and now I know how good Phil feels when he sees his shadow on Groundhog Day. I took a gander at that big orb in the sky and if you looked up, not down, you could almost pretend it was a beautiful Spring or Fall Day – that is, until out of the corner of your eye you glimpsed the plumes billowing out of neighborhood chimneys or furnace PVC pipes. I scanned the nearby trees since I heard several warblers and a bird or two twittering nearby, yet I saw nary a one. Once again I cursed the advent of the rats to the neighborhood in 2008 and 2010 that caused me to remove the bird feeders and birdbaths. The temps may have moderated some, but I still felt badly that I could not scatter some bread to sustain my fine-feathered friends in this bitter cold. The bird calls continued throughout the duration of my time outside and their sweet songs were truly like a breath of Spring air plunked down in the middle of this Winter that we are all so weary of. The birdsong made me remember my pals at the Park and I wondered how they are faring in these extreme cold temps and brutal wind chill. Well, enough of looking up and dreaming of Spring because it is not coming anytime soon. The reality of this Winter, notwithstanding the tweeting birds and shining sun, is that the neighbors’ Christmas decorations are nearly covered in snow and the street is far from being bare to the concrete, but now appears to be drivable thanks to the snow plow’s visit. Just like at your house, here the snow is mounded up high and the forecast for Saturday is rain and 43 degrees so where will all that liquid go? Yikes! Every weekend it seems a different weather pattern shows up … each worse than its predecessor. Hurrah, the garbage men showed up this morning, some 48 hours tardy … well, it wasn’t as if the garbage was going to smell funky, that’s for sure. One of my garbage bags is at large, probably missing under the hardened piles of snow and it will no doubt turn up this weekend after the rain. Across the street from my house is an unoccupied rental home. Since the home’s original owners passed away and the house was sold in 2010, it has had many tenants. They stay a few months, then leave and the house is vacant once again. The heat must be set very low inside as there are some monstrous and lethal-looking icicles. I knocked off a few of my own, albeit just tiny ones, with a quick tap of the broom handle and then I dealt with the still, ice-encrusted furnace PVC pipe. The buggy started right up and so I closed the garage door, looked up to the sky and bade farewell to the Three Tenors who had entertained me from their perch in some tree. As I rounded the corner of the house, a chubby squirrel ran the length of the chain link fence as he came charging toward me in search of a friendly human with a handout. But, I had nothing to offer and shook my head “no” to reinforce that I had no treats.

I climbed into bed last night, glad to slide between and snuggle down into the warm blankets. I think my thermal windows are showing their age as there are terrible drafts the last couple of years, even when the weather is not as brutal as these past few days. I, too, am feeling my age or my blood is getting thinner as the constant cold, even within the house, seems invasive and intolerable to me. A trip to the basement or even the cellarway, which I close off to keep the kitchen warm, leaves me shivering. In the darkness, curled up beneath the covers and just before I shut my eyes, I listened to the various sounds in and around the still house. The wind was howling at 29 miles an hour according to the last forecast before I turned in. I believe it as I felt the house moving and the wind was rattling the metal rolling blinds with a vengeance. I had already heard thumps and thunks of unknown origin throughout the course of the evening and they continued after I went to bed. The wooden furniture was creaking or shifting and making occasional loud squeaky noises and after the lights were out, it was eerie, as if a ghost was wandering around in the other rooms. I listened to the washer running through its cycles since I ran another load of hot water shortly before I went to bed. I left all the taps open and dripping on each faucet and I still could hear the drip, drip, drip of the droplets hitting the stainless steel kitchen sink. It seemed the furnace barely shut off, only to rev up again, chugging and heaving as it pumped out more warm air into the house. Finally I quit analyzing the mysterious sounds and drifted off to sleep. It seemed mere minutes later the alarm started buzzing. I threw off the covers intending to run another load of water through the washer and let the hot water gush out all of the faucets to thwart any freezing issues, but as soon as I threw off the covers, sparks were everywhere with static electricity coming from the Sherpa wool blanket and following me as I shuffled over to the light switch. Sparks a ’plenty once again, and ouch … they hurt after shocking me first. I’ve tinkered and tweaked the furnace humidifier repeatedly over the last month or so. There is either water on the windows or the house is dry as a bone with no happy medium. My hands are so dry they are cracked and I have cuts on all my fingers so I can barely type. My big adventure outside this morning was preceded by finding frost on the inside of the steel door. I chipped it off with my fingernail and a paper towel, then had to deal with dislodging the ice off the outside furnace pipe where the condensation from the hot steam had frozen on the lip of the pipe. At least the car started up in the garage so I am thankful for small blessings. It seems the only salvation for dealing with such harsh weather is returning inside, shucking off your clothes and wrapping your frozen fingers around your favorite warm beverage. I saw this little saying and decided it was true and worth sharing with those, like me, who enjoy their cup of joe: Coffee is like a warm fireplace for the soul.

Everyone knows Frosty the Snowman finds it scary when the thermometer is red, but you and I wouldn’t mind if that happened right now. Frosty isn’t going to need to slip into the freezer to stay intact … not today and tomorrow anyway. Hope you get a chuckle out of this little cartoon, even if your lips are still too numb to smile. I just heard WWJ report the temps at -12 degrees and -47 wind child – these brutal temps and blustery winds are absurd, even for someone who hails from Canada. My heart goes out to the bus riders because I took the bus for over three decades. On days like these, the buses are never timely and usually alot of them have to be serviced with no replacement vehicles. The tote bag I schlepped with me daily when I rode the bus regularly included every type of emergency gear including toe and foot warmers, extra socks, hats, gloves … even a few granola bars. Many times I waited on the bus for hours or suffered through an extended bus ride due to the snow or bitter cold. Even sadder is the plight of the homeless people who are on the minds of many as well. I heard there are 19,000 homeless people in the City of Detroit with only accommodations to shelter 4,000 of them. I’m grateful to have a roof over my head and a place to call home, and in that home, the furnace is blasting at 77 degrees right now and I may raise it to 78 after hearing the latest weather forecast. Throughout this day, I’ve dashed from faucet to faucet monitoring the trickle or droplets of water and washed two loads of “hot water” and will do another before I go to bed. The incessant water droplets hitting the stainless steel sink are annoying, but if it keeps the pipes from freezing or having any water issues, I will be happy. I say vamoose to this Polar Vortex!

…even though you may feel like it! He’s merely the messenger. I’ve heard and read predictions of at least one foot of snow, and maybe up to 16 inches before all is said and done … it is non-stop snow whatever the eventual amount is. Today the snow might have been good for kids to frolic and kick around in since it was not horribly frigid out. Perhaps there was even a chance to go sledding if there were nearby hills. At least with fun Winter activities one could enjoy the snow and put a positive spin on the whole event … but please, no snowball throwing! Although I love this picture of the old-fashioned misses clutching a snowball or two as the pair look ready for a good ol’ pelting, throwing snowballs is never a good idea. A high school classmate of mine was paralyzed from the waist down when his buddy unknowingly threw a snowball containing an embedded stone which pierced his young man’s lower back and caused permanent paralysis. Please stay safe and warm in this snowy and brrrrutally c-c-cold weather.

Of course the adage “the calm before the storm” has been bandied about by the news media today as sound bites or pictures show shoppers stocking up on supplies or gassing up the car, then going home to hunker down and await this promised foot of snow. Yes, this is indeed the “Winter of our Discontent”, yet, it brings a camaraderie among Michiganders as we grouse or gripe about the weather, but then reconcile ourselves to the fact that this is Michigan after all, and this too will pass. I, however, dislike Winter and am ready for Spring right now, though it is 74 days away according to this countdown: (http://mycountdown.org/Other/Spring/).

I went out to the garage to let the car idle a few minutes, then pulled the door down and probably won’t revisit there until the snowfall has finished and is cleared away. I timed my venture with the mailman’s arrival to get the mail in hand and without moving half a dozen rugs at the front door to retrieve it. I started to scurry back into the warm house, but peered up and down the street first. It looked like the snow was cleared sufficiently from the sidewalks so why not take a short walk and get the kinks out? I jammed the mail into my coat pocket and set out. One of my motives was to see the damage from the explosion in the garage around the corner from me that happened during the past week. I walk past this nice house and its large garage every time I go to Council Point Park. A large dog usually woofs at me as I pass by and his owner always shushes him and greets me as well. Amazingly, there was nothing left but the collapsed charred remains from this two-car garage – it was quite a sight to see. In lieu of all the fireworks in our neighborhood the last few years and the damage sustained to my roof this past Summer, when I heard the fire engines’ arrival and knew they were close by, I immediately worried it was related to fireworks. My concern is that fireworks were set off New Year’s Eve close by and so I wonder where the leftover fireworks that were shot off every night from Memorial Day and long into July last year are being stored? Probably in a garage. Well, the damage was distressing but I don’t know the cause so I won’t worry it was fireworks … for now anyway. It was cold but pleasant outside after the last few frigid days. I really was not dressed warmly enough for a long walk since I was merely running outside for a few minutes and I wished I had piled on a few more clothes and would have walked further. I noticed many people still have their outside Christmas decorations up and I’m sure they now wish they had taken them down and hauled them into the garage last Saturday when we had the balmy temps. All along my route, there were massive icicles with ultra-sharp points hanging dangerously from many a front porch awning or corner gutter. They looked like mini versions of the stalactites I remember hanging down when we stopped at the Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky on a family vacation many years ago. I took one quick trip around Memorial Park and then headed home. The snow was crunchy under my feet but it was not slick in the least.

As I got home and was pulling off my boots I smiled because I had just walked the first mile of 2014, and that measly mile gives me hope for perhaps another great feat with da feet before year end.

Well I wish I had been clever enough to coin the phrase “cuddle alert” when the weather here in Michigan has been brutally cold. Good old WDIV meteorologist Chuck Gaidica has used that phrase to advise us of forthcoming frosty temps for more years than I can remember. Also clever with a quip to describe Michigan’s often changeable weather, was the late iconic Sonny Eliot who loved to mesh two types of weather conditions together and create a new and often nonsensical word … “snaining” for snow and rain was one of his most popular words. Well, there’s nothing nonsensical about the weather today, and it goes beyond brutal and blustery and is just a precursor to the upcoming snowstorm Saturday into Sunday and the bitter cold 30 below zero wind chill Monday and Tuesday. Enough already! But the weather worldwide seems out of whack: England is suffering with 70 mph gale-force winds and significant damage in coastal towns. There are other assorted odd weather happenings around the globe which are just too numerous to mention. But, we don’t suffer alone with the fractious Winter weather with three upcoming NFL playoff games to be played in very frigid and snowy conditions. In fact, playoff tickets are still available in Green Bay due to the excessive cold temps at game time. I remember the Accuweather meteorologist back in November predicting a mild December, normal January and a very cold and snowy February. If this is the case, given December 2013 and the three days into the new year, I don’t even want to think about February. That meteorologist may have messed up big time, but how’s this concept? I follow “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” Facebook and internet sites and in the Fall they reported on finding some Woolly Bear caterpillars and based on their coloring they predicted one heck of a Winter. So, basically now it comes down to following the wit and wisdom of a Woolly Bear caterpillar and/or Punxsutawney Phil to get the scoop. Great … just great. So, say it slowly with me now: “When the temps soar and the tropical climes are draggin’ me down during those Dog Days of Summer, I will remember this day and I shall not complain one whit about the pesky heat and humidity” … you may consider it my new mantra.

I think someone ticked off Mother Nature. Admittedly, the ambiance of the freshly fallen snow on Christmas Day was nice, but now the non-stop snow has worn out its welcome. Late into Wednesday evening and all day today, even the radio playing low in the background did not drown out the incessant whirring and whining of overworked snow blowers, nor the intermittent rhythmic thunk of snow shovels hitting bare pavement. The collective snow blower noises just droned on, only occasionally missing a beat when the motor would choke or stop as if to catch its breath, or simply rebel at the handler for misuse or abuse. I heard no City plow coming down the street to kick back half the snow onto the end of the driveway … but give it time. The weather has got me in true Winter mode, feeling lethargic and wanting to just sleep as much as I can. With no early a.m. agenda now that walking is done, and no errands to run for the short term, I keep setting the alarm clock to go off later and later. Today, the shrill sound of the alarm awakened me from a dead sleep. I am still catching up on my ZZZZZZs after neighborhood revelers were shooting off firecrackers to welcome 2014 until 1:00 a.m. on New Year’s Day. I grudgingly reached my arm out from beneath the toasty covers to quickly silence that annoying buzz then snuggled down further under the blanket for a few minutes, all curled up and feeling as though I should be purring since I was as content as a cat. Finally, I reluctantly left the confines of my warm bed and plodded out to the kitchen to make coffee and a big bowl of oatmeal, both designed to warm the innards and the rest of me. I nudged the heat up a bit while I waited on breakfast, because even though I was still clad in my polar fleece snowflake jammies, I was feeling mighty chilly. I listened to the news and weather forecast, the latter mostly just out of habit, since my only destination today was a quick trip outside. The wind chill advisory for today and tomorrow sounded ominous and I decided to do a quick load of washing to warm up the pipes. The basement was cold enough to hang meat since I close the cellar way door 24/7 to keep it warm in the kitchen for Buddy and me. I trudged back upstairs and settled into the kitchen chair to nurse a second cup of coffee and try to warm up, then resorted to grabbing the afghan which is always draped over the rocking chair, to just huddle under. Ahh … there is nothing like the warm wool of a handmade afghan just wrapped around you, conforming to your body and taking the chill off on a cold day. I would have liked to stay in this position, draped by the warm cover-up and hands wrapped around the coffee cup, just sitting contemplating life, but reality set in when the kitchen clock chimed at the top of the hour and I knew my load of wash was done. As I walked downstairs, I told myself the cold basement will not lure me to go and sit on the exercise bike for the first day of my bike-riding regimen next Monday, especially since it is projected to be the coldest day in twenty years. Maybe I’ll just wait ‘til Tuesday… or Wednesday … well, really what’s the hurry? From the looks of it, a long Winter is stretched out before us, of that we can be sure.

It’s okay to turn off the snow-making machine now because I think we’ve had enough white stuff already. Luckily, not that many people had to go to work today, so they were spared the angst of driving around in this snowy mess. When I went outside mid-morning, the snow was falling softly and had settled into small drifts around the house and looked very pristine and picturesque in the backyard. There were tiny bird tracks everywhere and several “jumping” tracks, probably belonging to the squirrel who was scurrying about, puzzled over where his peanut stash might be under all the snow. Two small icicles had formed on the furnace pipe which surprised me since it seems the heat is on more than it is off these days. The window panes in my neighbor Marge’s garage had exquisite etchings on them, courtesy of Jack Frost, and they looked similar to all but the small bare spot where this bear is gazing wistfully from in the picture above. Perhaps he is thinking of making bear angels. Do kids still make snow angels? As a youngster I remember the joy of jumping into a fresh canvas of snow in my snowsuit and laying in a spread-eagle position, then propelling my arms and legs to create wings and an angel’s dress respectively. All of us neighborhood kids would hate to go outside in the cold weather to play, but our moms made us bundle up from top to toe and within minutes we were oblivious to the cold and busy making angels, building snowmen or snow forts and having a great time. When I was just a toddler, my father built me a wooden sleigh on big runners and every snowy Sunday in the Winter when my parents took me to High Park, they’d put me in the sleigh and pull me around by the heavy rope handle. I have black and white pictures of myself sitting like a little princess on the velvet tufted cushion in that sleigh just happily taking in all the sights. After we moved from Toronto to the suburbs, one Christmas my parents bought me a two-person toboggan and my father used to take me tobogganing at a large hill near where we lived. He’d climb on behind me and away we’d go down the hill. It was more effort to climb up to the top of the hill helping to tote the toboggan, but the ride down sure was grand but over much too quickly and then the process had to be repeated in a matter of minutes. When we moved to the States there were no nearby hills, so the toboggan hung in the garage for years and finally it was given to some friends of my parents who had a place up North. The Winter sports enthusiasts are overjoyed with this weather, while I am sure the school kids are feeling gypped out of “snow days” for the second time in a month. The first significant snowfall came on a Saturday and this one occurred during their school break. Well better luck next time kids … rest easy, I’m sure there is plenty more snow coming down the pike.

Best wishes for a happy and healthy 2014… Cheers!

Halfway around the world the new year has already settled in and people by now are sound asleep after a night, and perhaps early morning, of merriment. For years and years I stayed up with my parents to ring in the new year with the likes of Guy Lombardo. There might have been a sparkly headband or silly hat donned and a noisemaker cranked or tooted at the stroke of midnight, then we soon turned off the tube and headed to our respective bedrooms. Then, “Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” show ruled for years and years, and I never missed it, whether I was home or out and about, though I must admit I’ve not watched the show since the year Dick Clark became ill and had to bow out. I know he returned, but somehow Ryan Seacrest was more in the limelight and I only watched the show long enough to see the ball drop in Times Square. Now, though it is still called “Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” it would never be the same without Dick Clark’s charm and boyish good looks. So, again this year I’ll skip the streaming of the ball drop and I am having a quiet evening instead. Right now, a generous cup of custard-style egg nog (my once-a-year indulgence) is within reach on the table and Buddy is close by as well, warbling along to Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Auld Lang Syne” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DK2r-Dr0-X8). I’d offer him a sip of nog from a straw, but I shan’t disturb him and ruin the moment as he is singing at the top of his lungs and enjoying himself immensely.

As I write this post, and the one that directly follows with my New Year’s blessing, it will be the 249th and 250th post since I began writing on February 11th this year. Indeed, sometimes scrolling through my entire blog, it does not seem possible that I could have created all those thousands upon thousands of words. There have been hundreds of observations and recollections shared along the way. Like my walking, the writing has truly been a journey as well. I’ve enjoyed putting my thoughts into words immensely and the creation and near-daily writing of my blog has drawn me like a magnet to the computer to reflect or recollect. Both the walking and the writing frequently has taken me from my “chores” like housework, yard work and even food preparation. Oops! Where I once strived to be near-perfect in those departments, I find since the walking and writing bug has bitten me, I no longer excel in any of them. But, as you know, life is short and over this past year, I’ve learned to put on blinders and just enjoy life a little more and not to sweat the small stuff. Now that’s a great motto, even if I did not create it.

Now with Mother Nature having her way with us once again, (sigh), we’re poised on the brink of a significant snowfall to welcome in the first full day of 2014. So, I wonder how many months it will be until I return to Council Point Park? I have two canisters crammed with peanuts waiting in the wings, and I opened a loaf of bread on Sunday and portioned it into three … one portion went to the Park with me and two additional packets are neatly tucked in opposite ends of the freezer waiting for a clear, but cold Winter adventure. I had hoped to take my camera along to take pictures of the fox that someone told me about and maybe that will happen someday. Perhaps on weekends I shall just mosey over to the either of the parks two blocks from my home and stomp out laps in my lug-soled boots. Each of those parks take up two long City blocks so that is plenty of good exercise and will put some color in the cheeks and work up an appetite as well and “take the stink off you” as my mother would say when she insisted I play outside in the Winter sometimes and I rebelled about leaving the warm and cozy house. I will miss the walking though and shall fill the cardiovascular activity void by dusting off my exercise bike and venturing all the way downstairs several times a week to pedal to my heart’s content while listening to the news of the day on my radio headphones. No worries about ice and snow, but the scenery isn’t as nice, and there are no people or critters to interact with. But, what those exercise bike sessions will do is to keep the muscles in my legs strong so when the days start getting longer, the grass greener and the baby birds start cheeping, I will be chomping at the bit to start walking and I will be fit to do so.

When I started this blog in the heart of Winter 2013, I wondered what I would write about when the weather was ugly and I didn’t dare venture out for a walk. Well, there was not much commentary going on in those 2013 Winter months and sometimes the postings were few and far between in our cold Spring too. So, potentially after the new year, my blog posts will not be as plentiful. Few, if any, walking adventures will present themselves and the holidays will be over, but I’m sure other subjects, of course ,will crop up but not likely will be shared on a daily basis like I have been doing. I’ll stop and collect my thoughts periodically so I don’t get rusty and I hope I don’t lose any of you as I hunker down and settle in like an ol’ brown bear in its den for the next few cold and snowy months.

“Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson