WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Hold up your hand if you took a turkey sandwich for lunch today? Or, have you been ultra-creative in finishing off your Thanksgiving dinner leftovers that didn’t get gobbled up on Turkey Day? Perhaps you portioned it out for your guests to take home? My mom used to like nothing better than a sandwich consisting of very thin slivers of turkey and she’d pile on a few inches of dressing. This was consumed cold, not heated up with gravy, and was something she grew up eating after big holidays so this was her favorite sandwich.

Holiday shopping lingo hopefully should be down to the dregs by 11:59 tonight and after reporting the results of online shopping tomorrow morning, supposedly the media will give the topic a rest for awhile. We’ve been bombarded with stats about Brown Thursday, Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and now Cyber Monday for countless days now. Soon, the power shopping extravaganza will be in slowmo until the media resurrects it on the last shopping weekend before Christmas.

Not to sound like an old curmudgeon à la Andy Rooney, but, all that glitters is not gold. I just detest sparkles. I don’t buy sparkly cards, but the card store’s sparkly cards cannot help but transfer onto “clean” cards by people’s fingers or when loading them into the display cases. Glittery greeting cards are just a fact of life. But, over the weekend, I hung my holiday wreath on the door after carrying it from downstairs to the living room in a double bag and it has gigantic square sparkles and surely there cannot be a single sparkle left on that wreath as they are in various spots winking and twinkling at me from where the vacuum refuses to suck them up from the embedded crevices on the carpet or floor. I refuse to cast my eyes downward until I return that wreath into storage after the holidays are over.

Finally, I’m working through shin splints today, the after-effects of my extraordinarily (for me) long walk yesterday. It surprises me, since I’ve been walking almost every day and taking lengthier trips every weekend. It slowed me down a little this morning but I hope to be back to my regular walking schedule by tomorrow. I can only imagine how “real athletes” feel after pushing themselves to the limit. No big deal, since I enjoyed yesterday’s walk anyway. I subscribe to a couple of sites on Facebook for quotes and pictures and coincidentally, this was today’s quote, which I think was tailor-made for me and I must share with you:

Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, leave no path untaken. – Neil Gaiman

Before I left the house this morning, in anticipation of a long walk, I checked off my necessities first:

Bag of peanuts – check.
Bag of duck bread (as opposed to much-tastier monkey bread) – check.
One large d’Anjou pear with a tiny worm hole – check. (I set this pear aside for my favorite Park squirrel, er – the one who follows me in search of peanuts. Okay, so I’m a sucker for a cute face.)

So, I was good to go and set off with a spring in my step on a relatively mild December day in search of reaching the mileage equivalent to a 10K walk. It was a tad gloomy, but it was dry and I had the perfect mix of clothing on – not too hot, not too cold and for me, just perfect walking weather.

The ice is still lingering on the northern branch of the Ecorse Creek, but once around the bend, the water ripples and flows just as easily as on a Summer day. Because the weather was not as frigid, the ducks were gathered in the tiny alcove and completely absent from their usual sheltered area under the sewer drain. I depleted my bread supply in minutes amidst alot of quacking and carrying on. In fact, two ducks flew down from the sky, skidding along the water in a rather ungraceful move to partake in the feast.

The first lap around the perimeter path I was greeted by multiple squirrels – four of them in fact and not in the same places. Each one bolted down from a tree and received three peanuts for its efforts. Each squirrel immediately cracked and ate one peanut, then scurried away with the remaining ones to squirrel away in their hidey-hole. But, I was looking for my little guy and finally spied him, or perhaps I should say he spied me, and, not shy at all, he scampered right over in front of me and sat on his haunches and begged. I told him no genuflecting or similar gestures were necessary, but he persisted. I dug in my coat pocket for the pear and placed it on the path then surrounded it by four peanuts. Well, it was like Christmas for him. His eyes followed my hands as I put the treats on the pathway, and clearly he was conflicted which yummy morsel to eat first. He decided on the pear as it wasn’t as portable as the rest of his booty. With a smile on my face, I suppressed the urge to wave goodbye, but moved on and resumed walking. The second lap of my journey, he was the only squirrel I saw and he came right over to me, stopping me in my tracks. Feisty little bugger! I identified him since he had traces of pear flesh on the sides of his cheeks and the red skins of the peanuts had attached themselves to the sticky dribbles. I wished I could have offered him a napkin. I tossed him a few more peanuts and promised “next time around” he’d get a few more, and, sure enough, by the time I got to the third lap, he was once again at the ready for this sucker to drop a few more peanuts at my feet so he could grab ‘em up.

After three laps and the mile-long return trip home, I was pooped, but elated to have reached the 10K goal. I climbed out of my walking clothes and was happy to just sit down and rest on my laurels, along with my tired tootsies. The concept of a hot soak in a tub, similar to this gingerbread fellow soaking in a cup of coffee, sounded inviting, but chores and addressing Christmas cards were on today’s agenda … and alot of sitting.

As I moseyed along toward Council Point Park on this November morn, which finally felt like a November morn, the sun was shining bright but had not yet dissolved the patches of snow and ice that lingered on the residential sidewalks. Just as Frank Sinatra crooned about crossing over to the sunny side of the street, I did likewise. Ahh, … much better. The concrete sidewalks were no longer slick and I strode with confidence and picked up the pace. Good thing as I’d still be ambling along working on that six-mile walk I put in the books for today.

I saw many a homeowner hovering on the top step of the ladder stringing up holiday lights. I especially like the icicle lights. By the time I passed a good many of the light meisters, they were already admiring their handiwork from the edge of their driveway, but the real test comes when darkness falls.

I noticed an abundance of light-up reindeer prancing about on front lawns for that added twinkling effect on those now-early dark evenings.

While I continued my walk, I saw picture windows filled with Christmas trees in various stages of enrobement. From the outside looking in, by the casual eye of a passerby, most of the trees looked either quite naked, had ornaments unevenly distributed or garland hung haphazardly since the mother lode of trimmings are found where the family can admire them from the sofa or easy chair.

I got to thinking that today should probably be the day that I do my Christmas decorating. I never decorate outside, save for a wreath adorning the front door lest I look like ol’ Scrooge himself amongst my neighbors who all decorate for the holidays. I figured I’d mull over how much effort would go into the 2013 holiday extravaganza while I was walking.

For years and years, I reserved the day after Thanksgiving for eating leftovers and putting up the Christmas decorations. This small house never has had much room for storing the regular items that must be tucked away to allow for all the holiday decorations to be displayed. Therefore, during the year, holiday paraphernalia might be stored in several boxes here and there in closets, and, in a burst of extreme organization a few years ago, red and green Rubbermaid tubs downstairs neatly preserve the remaining ornaments for safekeeping and from dust. When every Christmas item owned was displayed, it was quite the undertaking to decorate the entire house. We had amassed a huge collection of decorations with a country theme, since the house is done in colonial and country. There were my Mom’s life-like cardinals and blue jays on plates or figurines and also the resin yearly dated teddy bears which I collected through the years. So, it became an all-day affair to put out everything, including a small Christmas tree with miniature ornaments and two small ceramic trees. Then, of course, reversing the procedure on New Year’s Day to tuck stuff away for eleven months and return the regular, non-Christmas items to their places; that is, if you could remember where you put the regular items. Every year my Mom would say “make it easy on yourself and just put up the ceramic tree and be done with it” and I’d reply “really, it’s no problem, I enjoy doing this – we need to have some Christmas cheer in the house” … however, I must concede, that ever-so gradually I kept eliminating more and more from my yearly decorating regime.

By the time my walk was over, I decided to pare down my decorating to the nth degree and that one tiny plush reindeer with Scotch-plaid antlers and a jaunty bow will suffice for decorating my house for 2013. This cutie pie’s name is Marcella and she will sit on my kitchen corner cabinet in my range of vision giving me a smile whenever I glance over. Perhaps I’ll dig up a red bow for Buddy’s cage and he shall look festive as well.

Old-fashioned holiday shopping is now so yesterday, isn’t it? For years, you just went out to a shopping center, later called “the mall”, or to your favorite, stand-alone retail store. Shopping might have been done with your credit card sometime in December or perhaps you waited until after you received and cashed your Christmas bonus. Maybe you paged through endless catalogs and did your shopping that way. I can remember the novelty of the super sales and bargains bought at the crack of dawn as the first “Black Friday” made its debut and reshaped traditional Christmas shopping. Then “Cyber Monday” came upon the scene. Well, that was a novelty because what shopping you didn’t complete over Thanksgiving weekend, you’d finish up your first day back at work and consider it done. Now, most people have computers so Cyber Monday still is great for deals but people shop in their PJs in front of their own computer, and not on work hours. This year the retailers say Black Friday crowds somewhat languished while “Gray Thursday” crowds were overwhelming. Guess those shop-til-you-drop power shoppers were not suffering from the effects of too much tryptophan to hit the open stores and get ‘er done. I only went shopping one time on the original Black Friday. My mom sent me for a couple of presents she picked out for me, but she didn’t drive, so I was her proxy to buy my presents: a Mickey Mouse radio at Radio Shack and a gold filigree ring at Service Merchandise. When I arrived at 7:00 a.m. the Radio Shack patrons queued up around the store waiting for people to leave to make room for others to enter. I was getting out of the car when I heard two people complaining about the Mickey Mouse radios being sold out in the 5:00 o’clock hour. I shut the car door and drove over to Service Merchandise. Crowds were milling in the door and on the sidewalk and luckily the jewelry department was not bogged down and I was happy my mission would be accomplished. They had the ring but it was too large for my slender fingers. My next stop was to Fairlane Mall to buy gifts for my mom. It was so crowded that you had to get into the throng of shoppers to actually move through the mall as everyone was kind of just shuffling along. I took one look at the crowd, threw up my hands in despair and was outta there. Well, since I have no gifts to buy, instead I sit here ensconced in the cozy kitchen, a cup of coffee within reach, writing this blog post. Buddy is nearby happily trilling and thrilling me with his beautiful music as he gives Karen Carpenter’s “Home for the Holidays” a run for the money.

In keeping with the “bird theme” that is so important to the whole ambiance of Turkey Day, I am reminded by my Mom’s admonishments throughout my formative years, to wit: “don’t count your chickens before they are hatched” … yup, Mom you are so right. I had already counted on and calculated how many miles I would walk over this long holiday weekend. In fact, I had set my sights on walking the equivalent of a 10K course today. This would entail a round trip from my house plus three, count ‘em three, trips around the perimeter path at Council Point Park. This hoped-for Thanksgiving morn trip would have boosted my mileage, bolstered my pride of my walking accomplishments in 2013 and made me worthy of my Thanksgiving dinner. Such grandiose dreams were dashed however. On Wednesday, the weather folks, on all the stations I scoped out, predicted “a chance of snow flurries in the afternoon” and I deemed it safe to forego setting the clock and just indulge in waking up on my own. So, this morning I was indeed alarmed to find out my body clock decided 8:59 a.m. was A-OK to awaken. Talk about supreme indulgence on my part. I woke up and then heard the kitchen clock’s Westminster chimes start playing for the top of the hour. I listened intently, while curled up in the confines of my cozy bed, and heard nine strikes! Say it isn’t so! I bounded out of bed, then clapped on the radio headphones to hear much chatter about slick roads and multiple accidents due to the snow and so I dashed to the window. Metro Airport reported only a half-inch of snow but it looked like a Winter wonderland out there. Well, melting was not going to happen any time soon. I made breakfast and listened to the WWJ news reports. There was much congestion due to the Turkey Trot, parade, early Lion’s tailgating and game arrivals, and, of course, the unexpected snow which gummed up the whole downtown Detroit works. So, I decided to just ease into my day and take a loss on the anticipated 6.2 miles lost today. It probably didn’t hurt to enjoy a brief respite from the long-haul walking I’ve been doing this past month (80 miles in November thus far) as I chug toward my ultimate goal.

My boss was up and at ‘em at the crack of dawn to participate in his 31st annual 10K Turkey Trot. He has been training all Fall by riding his bike, swimming twice a week and training indoors on a treadmill as well. I looked at online photos and it looks like the participants in the Turkey Trot and Stuffing Strut events had to run through the snow. I’m thinking that is for hardier souls than yours truly.

Despite the snow flurries swirling around the already-cold feet standing curbside to take in the America’s Thanksgiving Parade, it sounds like a good time was had by all. I only attended the arrival of Santa in Detroit one time – in 1974. Back then it was known as J.L. Hudson’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Our group of friends, the staff from the college newspaper “The Ford Estate”, decided to attend the parade and the Lion’s game. We met at one house very early and crammed all of us into a VW bus and off we went. Of course, I’m dating myself by even mentioning that old VW bus. It was not festooned with peace symbols, or the words “love” and peace” on the exterior, but it was rather rusted, missing hubcaps and very raggedy looking, but nonetheless got us to our destination. The many layers of warm woolens and even long johns I had donned that morning did not help in the least to protect against the cold, and soon I, like my newspaper cronies and most of the parade spectators, was stomping my feet in an effort to warm those tingling toes. When Santa arrived, we took off and it seemed to take forever to get out of Downtown proper and over to the old Tiger Stadium before game time. This was the very last Thanksgiving Day Lions game played at Tiger Stadium. We stopped and got coffee and some warm food then wove our way through the throng of fans and got settled into our seats just as the game was about to begin. Then it started to snow. Not those delightful, light and lacy little flakes that land on your nose and melt, or stay on your clothes a few minutes then blow away. No, these snowflakes collected on the cement at our feet, and started piling up on the armrests as well throughout the game. It never stopped snowing. We endured it for as long as we could, and finally, since the Lions were losing to the Broncos, we made a collective dash to depart before the rest of the crowd. We hit an open café half-way to Dearborn Heights for some more coffee and hot soup, not wanting to wreck our appetites for the feast that awaited at our respective homes later in the day. That was my first and last Thanksgiving Day parade and Detroit Lions game as well and it seemed my teeth chattered for hours, if not days, afterward.

I’m guessing by now you’ve already finished that second piece of pumpkin pie, and the table, which was groaning under the weight of all the holiday food, is now lightweight and near-bare, and it is you that is groaning and settling back in your chair, perhaps loosening your pants waistband a little. I hope your Thanksgiving Day spent with family and friends was joyous and your evening will be spent with those who make you happy, and not at the mall.

Blustery 25 mph winds and glacial air finally took its toll on me. I mustered a petite promenade and didn’t even make it to Council Point Park where the vast open spaces in some places make you a sitting duck for those cold wintry blasts. So, I took a stroll in the neighborhood, just enough to redden up my cheeks, then took the car for a much-needed spin. I hate taking the car out of the garage in the colder months, as I have nearly no room to back in and out and must hold my breath that the dual mirrors don’t get side-swiped by the garage trim. It is even dicey trying to wear a heavy coat as I must walk sideways to access the driver’s side door. After returning my car to its cozy quarters, I pulled the garage door down and figured that was good for a few days and then I’d just run it a minute or so in the garage. I was grateful to step inside the house and put the big rag rugs up at the side door to keep the extra chill out. While stripping off all my outerwear, I was anticipating wrapping my frigid fingers around a steaming mug of coffee and how fine those first few sips would be going down, when the phone rang and simultaneously I heard banging on the side storm door. I groaned. It was my handyman, Bill, who was calling with the message that he drove by and noticed a bare spot or two on the roof so “I just quickly climbed up on the roof to check the shingles and three are missing and should be replaced as soon as possible so no moisture gets underneath” … big sigh on my part because this requires not only backing the car out of the garage but moving a half-dozen yard ornaments and heavy pots that are sitting on risers atop the large package of shingles. Grrrrrrrrr. Not to mention tendering $40.00 to Bill for the repair job. Well, on this day before you should take stock of your blessings, I shall have a glass-half-full attitude and admit that for me this fractious weather has not created any other damage than lost shingles and I did not lose power. I will suck it up, and concede that I am blessed and I will just be thankful for the roof over my head and a warm house, having virtually escaped unscathed from Mother Nature’s most-recent wrath. May you, too, find your troubles are few and your blessings are plenty on this cold and windy Thanksgiving Eve.

It was overcast and took forever to lighten up this morning. When I finally left the house I was happy to go back inside to retrieve a lightweight coat since it was only half as harsh as yesterday; in fact it felt almost balmy after the past few days.

As I sauntered along the sidewalk, still stained with leaf imprints, I saw traces of snow in the grass along and around the driveways giving them an almost chalk-outlined look. Likewise, there was snow embedded in the sidewalk cracks where narrow Honey Locust leaves and pesky weeds still languish in that tiny trench.

As I neared Council Point Park, I passed the house where the elderly couple feeds and waters the birds on a daily basis. I first wrote about them back on July 25th in my post entitled “Offerings” (https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/07/25/offerings/). As a general rule, each morning when I pass this house, the three birdfeeders have already been filled, and the gang of sparrows and cardinals are clustered about hungrily munching on their share of seeds on or under the feeders. But, I noticed yesterday and today there was no fresh food out and the house was in darkness. Hopefully, the couple is merely away visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday and nothing untoward has happened to them. The ever-faithful birds still showed up for breakfast, however, despite the empty feeders. I sympathized with the row of sparrows, nestled close together and lining the length of the fence near a now-bare Red Maple tree as they sat hoping for “first dibs” on the seeds. I am somewhat endeared toward sparrows since they resemble my little Buddy who has similar plumage, but they are minus that feathery cap and perpetual cowlick characteristic of a mop-top canary. I looked at those sparrows and thought of Buddy, snoozing away in the den, snuggled under his velour and Sherpa comforter awaiting Linda to come home and smother him with affection and offer up his favorite treats. I’m just a sucker for critters as you know from reading this blog, so I dipped into my bag of bread and shared a good portion of it with them. As soon as I scattered it on the ground beneath the tree where the feeders are suspended, the sparrows hopped down and started eating it. I watched their collective delight in the unexpected treat and if a thought bubble were to appear over their bobbing heads, it would say “we’ll eat this just in case our seeds don’t come later”… sometimes you just have to indulge me in my over-active imagination.

At the Park, there were quite a few walkers this morning. Some traces of snow still remained along the Creek bed and a little precip was coming down while I was walking along the path. The ice on the river has broken up and nearly dissipated. Only a handful of ducks were out this morning so those lucky ducks got a double-dose of my doughy tidbits. Who knows where the others were? Perhaps they fear someone has their sights on one of them for a tasty duck dinner instead of the usual ham or turkey on Thanksgiving Day. We often had roast duck or goose for holiday dinners when I was growing up. A solitary squirrel came racing over to meet me as I turned the bend … one of my “regular followers” I suppose. Since no neon-colored duds were donned today, he must have recognized my kindly face, or more likely he spied the Ziploc bag of peanuts which I usually hold in my hand, ready to dispense as needed as I walk along. I’m glad the Park critters are unafraid of me and appreciate their treats and I’ve developed a nice rapport with them, though we don’t speak much. I don’t mind being known by the moniker of “The Bread Lady” …“The Nut Lady” not so much.

Another blustery morning – brrrrrrrrrrrr. The temps and wind chill were wicked when I departed the house and the wind was howling at nearly 20 mph. It is garbage day in the neighborhood and the last week of yard waste pick-up. If I had one dollar for every yard waste bag or hay bale I passed, I’d be rich. As I walked down the next street over from mine, the garbage men had already made their stops, making quick work of their task, casting aside cans and their lids haphazardly on homeowners’ front lawns. Well, that was too bad since the gusting winds moved those cans and their lids all over in short order. Garbage cans were rockin’ and rolling in the street, never hoping to find their way back home unless a big street address was emblazoned on them. The sidewalk ahead of me was lined with lids which looked like over-sized hockey pucks as they slid up and down the sidewalk on their own volition. I had to dodge them all the way down Pagel until I caught up with the garbage truck and as I passed it, I asked the guys if this brutal Winter-like weather was worse than the sultry, sickening-hot days of Summer. They both grinned and told me this cold weather was far worse, which surprised me.

As I walked, hunching over with my head down so my face would catch a break from the brutal wind, my parka hood fell backward and when I tipped my head upright, just then I saw a side screen door fly open and a woman emerge. No doubt she was judging the proximity of the garbage truck after hearing the huge kerplunk and thunk, that would have raised the dead, as the garbage men pitched a whole toilet and tank into the truck’s massive jaws. The woman was struggling to get out the door, while pulling and pushing a black garbage bag, trying to squeeze the contents to get it through the door. Finally successful, the door closed behind her. She was clad only in a short cotton robe, wrapped loosely with a tie belt. Matching dainty pink bedroom scuffs completed her outfit. Just as she grabbed the garbage bag’s tie handles to haul it down the driveway, a huge gust of wind crooked a wily finger under her flimsy robe and sent it airborne in a scene reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s famous photo standing over the subway grate. The expression on her face was just priceless. Since I was within earshot, I said “guessing you’re a little chilly; I was just thinking to myself that I wish I had added tights or long johns to my clothing mix when I got dressed this morning” and then I smiled. Now, she could have thought that I was a smart-aleck, and I probably took her aback with my comment, but she hesitated a bit, then just laughed it off and told me she was glad it was just me who witnessed her escapade, then wished me a happy Thanksgiving.

I fairly flew around the Park perimeter path since it was THAT windy. Again today, the regular walkers, runners and bikers were absent, and I nearly had the trail to myself, but for the Chocolate Labs and their owners who shared my penchant for a frosty early morning walk. Even the squirrels were scarce this morning and I didn’t see my little guy who followed me yesterday. Really … how would I know it is him anyway and not an imposter? There was still an icy skin covering the Ecorse Creek on the first leg of my trip, but around the bend, the opposite branch of the Creek was not icy at all, but the wind was rippling and churning up the water. At the concrete precipice, I deposited some bread for the small group of ducks and dashed back up to the trail, lest a gigantic wind gust caught me and sent me flying into the murky water.

In what little peripheral vision I had with a parka hood drooped down partially over my hat and head, while scrambling back up to the trail, I noticed a darkish blob up in a tall tree in the distance. At first glance I just thought it was a squirrel’s nest. But then the blob took flight and I saw the wide wingspan and immediately suspected it was a hawk. It alighted on another branch and I got a fairly good look at it and confirmed my suspicions. It flew away shortly thereafter, hopefully not to terrorize any of the small birds or critters I see as I wend my way along the perimeter path.

I added four miles today toward my ultimate goal; now only 58 more miles to go. While it was cold and windy, at least it was dry. A light accumulation of snow is predicted before nightfall. That coupled with the cold and blustery weather in this cold snap make this tail end of Fall kind of forgettable.

Once again I waited for the sun to shine brightly before taking off for Council Point Park. I also thought it might lessen a chance encounter with black ice on the Park perimeter path. Listening to the meteorologist from The Weather Channel on the Warren Pierce Show at 6:15 a.m., I gulped when I heard him say we had not had such frigid temps since February 17th. What gives with our wacky weather? A week ago it was so mild I walked wearing just a sweat suit and got soaked in a drenching rain and today it felt like stepping into an Arctic clime.

In preparation for my walk on this frosty morn, I donned eleven assorted articles of clothing plus clipped on a pedometer and slipped a lanyard with my keys, pepper spray and whistle around my neck. Unbelievably, it takes me nearly 15 minutes to get dressed and undressed and sometimes I cannot help but hear my mom’s voice back when I just a little nipper “Linda go to the bathroom before you get your snowsuit on” … yup, check … did that before I start to suit up. I also can see her ushering me out the door and into the backyard to play in the snow, all bundled up in snow pants, a heavy coat, mittens, scarf covering most of my face and a woolen cap, which we Canadians call a toque. Let’s not forget those brown, clumsy, buckled boots with two pair of socks underneath. She’d tell me to go play and get some fresh air and five or ten minutes later I’d knock on the door protesting I was cold. I got no sympathy and was shooed out again.

In the colder weather, I keep the house warm for Buddy, and invariably, I will be sitting on the hassock putting on my walking shoes and the heat will kick on, whereupon I’ll start racing to get ‘em laced up and beat a hasty retreat downstairs to retrieve my coat before I cook. Or, the reverse will happen and I’ll walk in the house post-walk and hear the heat kick on. Sometimes I’ll just stay in the basement and not even go upstairs ‘til the furnace shuts off.

Well, today I wore a very warm down coat that I’ve had for years but haven’t dragged out of the closet since my “bus days”. I bought it on sale, and got it for a song, probably because of its color. The store tag identified the coat color as “bright salmon” … well, that would be accurate – let’s just say you can’t miss me in it. It was a favorite coat for riding the bus, incredibly lightweight and cozy warm since it is 100% down. Well, I was toasty today as I walked two trips of the entire Park path. I had the whole place to myself and I didn’t see a single person on either of my two trips around the Park. The snow squalls yesterday left a narrow band of snow along the water’s edge and at the base of the reeds as well . The water’s surface had a sheen in the colder spots where a light glaze had formed. No big, beautiful swan today, but there must have been fifty or more mallards streaming out of the storm drain where they were seeking shelter from the cold. I don’t know if it was happenstance that they swam out en masse as I neared the concrete landing – perhaps they saw my bright-colored coat, puffed out with feathers from their kin or their ancestors. Who knows? I know they suddenly were there, clustered in great bunches as bread tidbits were tossed out from my polar-fleece, gloved hand. Soon they were scrambling for a bite, knocking each other aside in their haste. I wished I had more but I portioned it out to feed them for a few more days since it will stay cold most of this week. The birds were missing in action and I only saw one squirrel … he hit the jackpot when I offered him five peanuts laid in one pile on the pathway. He sniffed the nuts, then left them to follow along behind his benefactor until I rounded the bend. (Yes, can you say cute?)

After my frosty, five-mile trip today I was glad to be home and ready to sip something hot to warm me from top to toe. A glance in the mirror while I was removing layer after layer revealed a nose just as red as ol’ Rudolph’s.