WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Today I trekked three-miles roundtrip to Meijer to pick up fresh produce which I packed into my schlep bag and my shoulder is feeling it tonight as I write this post. For years I carried a purse and a tote bag on the bus, gradually paring down to one backpack, thus easing the burden on my right shoulder. I much prefer walking with my hands and arms free but this was a mini-shopping trip via foot power rather than using the car. Despite it being early morn, many people zoomed by with convertible roofs down or windows cracked wide open, music blaring. I heard Adele belting out “Rolling in the Deep” enroute to the store, and that was an earworm for me until I was nearly home, then I heard the harmonious strains of the LPHS marching band, in perfect tempo, and so I stopped in my tracks, did an about-face, then marched over to Memorial Park to watch the in-progress Memorial Day parade. The crowd’s enthusiasm was contagious as the drum cadence intensified, almost-deafening at times, and the beginning of the parade drew closer. Young children, perched on parents’ shoulders, were giddy with excitement from the noise and they waved American flags or clutched yellow bows in tiny fists. Many parade goers were dressed in patriotic colors. An impressive group of over one hundred flags, all on eight-foot poles, and called “The Healing Field”, honored fallen servicemen and encircled the patio “quiet area” where the park benches offer a place to reflect and remember near the war memorial, cannon and bronze soldier’s boots and rifle. It is good to have a Memorial parade in our City again – far too many years Lincoln Park had no funds to sponsor this event. Throughout high school, I participated yearly in the parade by walking with other members of the American Field Service. I remember toting a flag holster which helped balance my huge and heavy flag. Somewhere, in my vast collection of old photos, someone snapped my picture hoisting my flag. The Memorial Parade always has featured a performance by the LPHS band and many band members had been high school buddies. I can still see Drum Major Pete Tirpak, clad in his huge bearskin hat and rigid chin strap, waving his baton wildly. After the parade, we’d all gather at the Bandshell and “Taps” was played and the frivolity turned to solemnity as heads were bowed in prayer for those lives lost. The Memorial Day Parade was the unofficial start of ensuring the front yard was in tip-top shape until November – picture perfect and nothing out of place because our street was where traffic was diverted from Fort Street. As I walked home, I calculated that it was forty years since I attended the parade; probably the last time I marched in it for AFS. Tempus Fugit.

Another peaceful promenade in Council Point Park this morning. I was up at 5:30 a.m. doing household chores so I deemed I’d earned my “me time” and thus headed out at 8:00 a.m. for a walk. I use the word “sketchbook” today for this blog post because my path through the Park reminded me of some photos and passages from a book entitled “Nature’s Sketchbook” by Dutch artist and author Marjolein Bastin. Bastin was featured in many Hallmark collectibles and my mom and I had several cardinal Christmas ornaments and we bought her greeting cards exclusively through the years. She was a naturalist whose soft-focus artwork entailed scenes of wooded or marshy areas, garden delights — butterflies, bees, bunnies, and various birds and their offspring. So, today as I walked through the park the trail evoked memories of so much of Bastin’s artwork. As I began the circular pathway, Canada geese milled about in the two baseball diamonds cackling noisily. Then, the ever-present Red-winged blackbirds perched on fallen trees, their warbling songs filling the air as I strolled past them. A few bunnies went bopping by in search of clover and high grass and I later caught up with them munching contently. It was a little breezy and I saw a mallard duck swimming solo in the rippled bend of the creek. My eyes were darting back and forth in search of the Canada Geese mates and their goslings. I peered through a thicket of bushes which turned out to be the familiar scent of honeysuckle. I breathed in deep, drinking in the intense aroma – mmmmm, so nice and very heady. And, then I saw them – the pair of geese with their goslings tucked into a small brush-filled alcove. The little ones were strutting about as their parents warily watched me and their offspring as well. Thankfully, I immersed my head amongst the honeysuckle blossoms or I surely would have missed the family, I scurried back to the footpath lest I should disturb them more than I already had. One the way home, I thought again about Marjolein Bastin and her work and recalled myself as a budding artist. When I was in my teens, I took art classes and we went on many trips to various Downriver venues to hone our sketching skills. The only medium we ever used was charcoals/pastels. I got pretty proficient with my charcoal and pastel renderings and I enjoyed the classes immensely. I have not thought about sketching and drawing in many years. I packed all my sketching pads, drawing tools and art books into my powder blue briefcase my parents bought when I graduated from college, and at that time I remarked to my mom that it was a hobby I would resume when I retired. She kind of harrumphed at that statement, but nonetheless surprised me one Christmas with an exquisite coffee table book entitled “A Sketchbook of Birds” ; I have occasionally paged through this book which details how to draw every type of bird imaginable. She had faith in me that I would put the book to good use, so as I write this, I am silently pledging to my mom that the first sketch I make will be in her memory. For now, I’ll quell the urge to retrieve my sketchbook and charcoals since soon my presence will be needed out in the garden to tend to the roses and butterfly bushes and unfortunately will be encroaching on my walking time as well. Perhaps in the Winter when I am hunkered down in the house, peering out the window at the mounting snow, I will start up again. Perhaps being the “artiste” will be as easy and enjoyable to pick up where I left off decades ago as it was to start writing this blog so many years after graduating from college with a journalism degree which has never been used. In the interim, I will just enjoy Mother Nature’s offerings “in person”. When I got home I flicked some cherry blossom petals that had landed in my hair, but the picturesque images I saw today were not to be as easily cast aside, but instead cherished as an interlude in my daily routine and to be carried in my mind until my next trip there. Likewise inspired by nature as is Marjolein Bastin, I will close this post with her quote below:

Those who look with their eyes and heart discover there is so much natural beauty around us to enjoy and admire.
I see every day as a new gift, full of new discoveries which I want to share with everyone through my artwork.
–Marjolein Bastin

Who went missing you ask? Answer: my feathered friends. The Ecorse Creek on the borderline of Lincoln Park and Wyandotte is now devoid of mallard ducks and Canada geese. In 2012, when I first began my walking regimen, my favorite daily walk was to the “the crick” just past River Drive. This 2 ¼ mile roundtrip trek beckoned me, and, unless I was running errands on foot, it was my daily place for a few minutes to enjoy these birds in a natural habitat. Plus, I was able to say that every day I walked to another city, since this bend in the Ecorse Creek rests right on the border of these two cities. I made sure to cross the bridge to get to the “Welcome to Wyandotte” sign. I often carried a bag of crusts of dried bread to toss onto the grassy banks of the creek or if a thin layer of ice had formed on the water, the bread chunks were tossed over the bridge and onto the hard surface. There were always “takers”, no matter what the weather and I was usually rewarded with some raucous squawking as each bird scrambled to grab a morsel. There were always large groups of geese in the water and on the bank area which butted up against the backyard of a church. The ducks were only in the water. Last Fall I noticed a bulldozer in the church backyard and on the sloped bank, as well as other heavy machinery. This Spring I noticed the bottom of the slope had a berm which looked to me that it was placed to prohibit any of the geese from congregating in the church backyard. Sure enough, my suspicions proved correct. Today was my third trip to the area and there are still no geese or ducks to be found. I am disappointed as now the only place to commune with the ducks and geese will be Council Point Park. I will continue to visit this serene spot, if only to pause on the bridge and take a breather before heading home; though the water is not crystal clear, it still evokes a feeling that you got away from the hustle and bustle of life, if even for a brief moment.

Ahhhh, breathe in deep and experience the sweet smell of lilacs in May. I imagine it must be just heavenly at the annual Lilac Festival at Mackinac Island. During today’s walk it seemed that every corner lot I passed lilac bushes were laden with bloom-filled branches that spilled over the chain-link fence – there were huge aromatic dark blooms and the more common lightly scented lavender type too. So, on a variation of the old adage of ‘taking time to stop and smell the roses’, I stopped several times to breathe in deep (hoping all the while no bee was hiding and went up my nose). What a heady experience inhaling Mother Nature’s own potpourri mixture. I must go out in my own backyard and sniff the Schaub lilacs which at nearly fifty years old continue to bloom profusely every Spring, despite a few bouts of powdery mildew. Today Mother Nature gets an “A” in art class because she surely was busy with her paintbrush adorning our City with an array of every shade of pink on the palette of gorgeous azaleas. I am inspired by their beauty, though I’ve never tried to grow them. The birds were twittering and trilling their melodic songs as if they, too, were inspired by the beautiful Spring offerings. So while plodding along on my promenade I did a thumbs up to God for his grandeur plus made sure to count my blessings on how good it feels to be alive and possess the ability to see, hear and smell on this beautiful and peaceful morn. So, words to the wise …
Don’t hurry.
Don’t worry.
You’re only here for a short visit.
So don’t forget to stop and smell the roses.
-Walter Hagen

Michigan weather this week is definitely bi-polar. Monday at 8:00 a.m. when I went outside to take the blanket off my Dwarf Japanese Weeping Maple it was a frosty 32 degrees. Teeth chattering and hands freezing, I went back to don a coat on top of my sweat suit and sweatshirt cardigan and grab a pair of gloves. A mere 48 hours later, I embarked on today’s walk wearing a lightweight sweat suit with a tank top underneath, thinking that even at 65 degrees I might be chilly. Two blocks into the walk, I removed the sweatshirt and wrapped it around my waist and walked in a tank top and I still was warmish! I wished I had shorts on. I could not help but think that the two nearly life-sized Michelangelo’s David statues on Emmons Street were more appropriately dressed for this hot and humid morn than me. Actually, I believe one statue is the famous David statue and the other looks to be a knock-off … an imposter, of all things and he is striking a reverse pose. I’ve never strayed to the opposite side of the street to peruse the statuary up close; I’m afraid someone might think I was a kook or a voyeur. Nonetheless, two anatomically correct statues are coyly glancing at one another from opposite ends of the homeowner’s porch. Really people?!?! Wouldn’t a concrete goose adorned with current-holiday duds be more appropriate? Just sayin’. At any rate, I did my walk to “The Dot” which was 2 ¼ miles round-trip on what felt like a mid-July morning. A lot of dandelions have gone to seed and the brisk wind was whipping around, whisking fragile blossoms right off flowering trees like crabapple, cherry, apple, dogwood and magnolia, just cutting their picturesque blooming time and beauty in half. The past few days even wreaked havoc on the durable tulips scattering their petals to the wind as well.
 

Earlier today I was out and about with a bout of repeated sneezing that actually took my breath away.  I decided to walk to the Lincoln Park Post Office to mail some cards – mind you, I could have gone to the end of the street to post mail, but I like a destination and want to boost my daily miles to at least 2 ½- 3 so the longer trips don’t give me shin splints and wear me out so much.  All that rainfall we had a few weeks ago has soaked into the ground and now we need rain and will get it the next two afternoons and Friday morning.  Hopefully that will tamp down some of this pollen that is flying around and making me miserable plus I have a fogged-up head (more than usual) (grin).  I wonder why I stay on the regimen of allergy shots for over a decade, plus on Alavert for feeling like I did before I started for goodness sake??  On my travels along Fort Street today I noticed that the abandoned bike (or I should say remaining part of a bike) is now gone.  The sleuthing side of me says its owner never returned and the scrappers came and broke the chain and got their lunch money with the dilapidated bicycle.  If the owner came back hoping to ride home, he was in for a rude awakening.  Notwithstanding the sneezing, I got in a nice walk – 2.8 miles by the time I came home; a solid hour of walking.  I indulged in chocolate milk which is my reward every time I walk and by the time I returned my early a.m. breakfast was in my toes so now I have to eat again. 

Linda’s terminology for the first really warm Spring day when you realize you left the house with too many clothes on and have to shed some of them. I rode the bus for decades and I was never without my hat and gloves, and often boots, from October 15th through April 15th. I always welcomed the ritual of the day in which I removed my hat and went outside with my bare head for the first time in at least six months. Gradually the gloves came off, then the scarf and definitely the coat. This Winter just lingered and lingered. I was still wearing my Winter coat, hat and mitts a mere fortnight ago. Then instead of going to a lighter coat and a lighter weight sweat suit, I zoomed right to light pants and a tee-shirt, even shucking’ the sweatshirt cardigan a block or so into my walk. An OMG moment for me for sure. While walking over the weekend, I was “just comfortable” and saw many folks wearing shorts and tank tops and several bare-chested men doing yard work. I don’t know that I’m that brave; after all – it is Michigan. The weather can change by the hour sometimes. I am hearing Mother’s Day will be chilly – as long as it doesn’t snow! No wonder they call us the “mitten state”. My boss is back, so now I have to adhere to a regular routine again. Out the door at 7:45 a.m. for a quick 2 ¼ mile trip this a.m. I’m hoping the rain and hot weather stay at bay so I can log in the walking miles I missed in April.

Another beautiful day dawned and I was out the door by 9:00 a.m. and headed to Council Point Park for my walk around the perimeter path. I am convinced that this haven of water, brush, trees and a little bit of wildlife could very well be called Lincoln Park’s gem. There were just a handful of people walking or jogging the perimeter today and no bikers. I was walking along minding my business when suddenly two huge Canada Geese waddled out from behind a brushy area and crossed my path. They were so busy squawking at one another that they didn’t see me and stopped right in front of me. I figure they were busy gossiping and oblivious to humans. They looked a little scared (and I was too – these guys were big and years ago I had an encounter at Silver Lake with a big swan who came after me, flapping its wings and running pretty quickly). I stopped in my tracks and they goose-stepped across the path with their huge, black webbed feet and started squawking to one another again. I had to smile and thought of my two plastic life-sized geese Mickey and Minnie and I have to put them outside this year. They are my brethren after all. I saw several squirrels, still chubby from the Winter, digging fast and furiously in various mulched areas as they frantically tried to recall where they buried their stash of nuts. I think I saw one scratching his head. Whether it was to prompt him to remember the hidey-hole or merely a bad case of fleas I don’t know. I also saw several huge fleet-footed rabbits; I’d have loved to have seen a litter of bunnies but none were within my sight anyway. I had just recovered from the encounter with the geese, when I saw a wiggle of ears out of the corner of my eye, and again I stopped in my tracks to not spook them and next thing I knew I saw a flash of white powder-puff tail go by. The birds at the Ecorse Creek are plentiful and I heard more different birdcalls than I saw the actual birds. I saw a Red-Winged Blackbird in the marshy area and if I had a camera I could have gotten a great close-up. I saw several goldfinches flitting around the marsh area as well. I identified a cardinal’s sweet song and now am going to make it a point to look for my copy of “Audubon Bird Guide to North American Birds” which my mom bought me years ago. I think they also have many websites where you can hear actual birdsong and identify the bird by its call and they have images to match up the birds as well. I am going to do this before I return to the Park next weekend. I am limited to this journey on weekends only since the entire round trip takes me 1 ½ hours – I won’t win any prize for my time expended on the walk but meandering through this idyllic little setting is well worth taking time to linger and take in a little of nature’s beauty.

Post script: When I finished up this post I left and decided to Google and find out more about Council Point Park. On doing this, I saw some pictures posted from earlier today – one picture was of a gentlemen I passed the time of day with and he had snapped some pictures of what maybe were the goose and gander I encountered. I wish I’d have been lucky enough to see the goslings!

What a glorious morning for my 3 ¼ mile walk today. It seemed the whole world woke up early and decided to get out of the house and celebrate this beautiful day. It seems hard to believe a mere two weeks ago we had snow flurries. This was my longest walk this season, 6,600 steps roundtrip, and tonight as I am writing this post, I feel every one of those steps. In fact I was sitting eating dinner and nodded off. Poor Buddy starting singing as loud as he could to get my attention (smile). Such a cacophony of sounds as I made my way to Council Point Park, each competing with one another to disturb the peace on this Saturday morning. The grass is now so lush and dark green and everywhere I looked men were snapping the mower start-up cord (and subsequently cussing each time it didn’t start) or pushing sputtering lawn mowers over already too-high grass. The droning whirr of weed whackers sounded like a zillion bees as gardeners whipped down the tall grass and weeds that spurted up at the speed of sound the past few weeks. I rounded a corner and glanced in a yard after hearing the sound of children’s laughter as they bounced on a trampoline, and a golden lab, caught up in the gaiety, was romping ‘round and ‘round the trampoline vicariously enjoying their fun. A sprinkler spritzed water to a fake lawn patch (which will never grow as the birds will feast on it first and render it useless) and a dapper gent walking his dog cried out in a foreign tongue as he removed his soaked newsboy cap from his head and then marched off. I heard several motorcycles whizzing by and their riders gunning the motors at each stop sign. People sat on porch steps drinking a steaming cup of their favorite morning brew and called out good morning to me. I heard a creaking noise and swiveled my head to watch an elderly couple sitting on a porch glider, hands linked, their rhythmic rocking perfectly synchronized. Just before I got to the Park entrance I watched a brave little soul tooling along on her pink two-wheeler with training wheels. She had a matching helmet and pink top and pants. Her parents clapped as she left the driveway and then the training wheels came to a clanking stop on the rough sidewalk and next I heard a wail and she had tipped over. I suspect she is now pretty in pink plus black and blue. All the sounds and action going on are uncharacteristic for an early Saturday morning but people are just glad to be out after such a dismal, cold April and long Michigan Winter. It is 1 ¾ miles from my house to the beginning of the foot path at Council Point Park and the park is actually at the very end of Stewart Avenue where I live. I walked the entire perimeter and it is a fairly wide path which goes down by the Ecorse Creek and winds around the picnic area and roller rink. It is about as scenic as you can get in the heart of a city and I enjoyed it immensely. In stark contrast to the walk to get there, the perimeter path is peaceful and many walkers, joggers and bikers were getting their morning exercise. All were solo, like me, just a handful were tuned into music, but most, like me, were walking and woolgathering. I wish I could go on this walk every day but it took me a solid one and a half hours from start to finish. I came home weary yet with a spring in my step. The lightheartedness that the first warm weekend in Spring brings to your soul is immeasurable. Indeed Spring has sprung.

Yellow, yellow everywhere.
In my clothes and in my hair.
Pollen flying from all the trees.
Making me just sneeze and sneeze.
—–Linda Schaub (2013)

Well a little Ogden Nash-like poem there – nothing fancy. Yellow is the word of the day because it is everywhere. House issues, errands and one day of bad weather kept me from walking an entire week. I did walk at Meijer and on errands yesterday but they just didn’t count; not when the weather is beautiful and beckoning me to lace up my walking shoes and head out. I was hankering for a real, long walk to drink in the finally-Spring weather. This morning was perfect. It was beautiful out and I shucked my cardigan within a few blocks from the house. Dandelions have cropped up everywhere rearing their golden heads and it looked like a sea of yellow as far as the eye could see. And beautiful tulips in every color in the Crayola box miraculously sprang up in Winter-weary gardens replacing the daffodils which are now fading fast. It is just inconceivable that in one week’s time the magnificent Magnolia trees went from bud to blossom and lawns are already littered with spent blossoms. The weather people promise a weekend of sunny beautiful weather so walking will happen this weekend, and I am glad to be back on course. As I headed back home I noticed our former neighbor and friend Ann Elmore’s red tulips standing like soldiers in a row under her kitchen window. She was so proud of those tulips which she had planted when they moved into their house when they first married. They must be nearly seven decades old and still thriving, despite the new homeowner’s efforts to rototill the entire side garden several years ago. I think I will think of Mrs. Elmore every year when I see this splash of color and remember how proud she was of her gardens. She had coneflowers and daisies encircling the entire backyard also many decades old. We “inspected” each other’s gardens at least once a year … sadly the last few years of her life dementia robbed her of her faculties and she did know even realize she had a garden in her backyard.