Back on January 22nd, on a snow-free, but frosty morning, as I layered up to head outside, I got a crazy notion that it might be fun to visit all the shoreline parks along the Detroit River. I knew the River was frozen over, so it might present some great photo ops with the waves frozen in place. I even had a name picked out for the trek’s blog post title: “Dilly-dallying along the Detroit River.”
Well, that was an idea best left in my head, because after this one-mile trek at Council Point Park, photographing my peanut-eating pals, along with a large orange cat that crouched on the ice nibbling on shad, I decided my fingers may not be up to that eight-mile long frozen foray.
So I tabled that idea ‘til Summer and six months later I got ‘er done.
Dingell Park – Ecorse, Michigan.
This time it was a warm and humid morning when I stood on the pavilion area at Dingell Park.
A chalk artist had left their mark under the pavilion.
The River was calm and fishermen baited their hooks and dropped their lines into the water.
It was peaceful and a perfect way to start the day.
While I could have walked to my next destination(s), I drove and parked as I intended to visit Bishop Park and a mile down the road, BASF Park.
Bishop Park – Wyandotte, Michigan.
The anglers were similarly lined up along the boardwalk, but also fishing from the pier. The seagulls were hanging out, perched on the boardwalk railing, hoping someone might share a bite of breakfast with them.
I was pleased to see Joanne on her morning walk. You’ll recall I wrote about this ageless, very spry walker last year. Now in her 90s, Joanne, who recently began using a rolling walker, gets her daily steps done along the waterfront, on a path that takes her from the senior apartments where she lives to Bishop Park. As she rolls along, she is all smiles, waving at everyone that crosses her path. I caught up with her and we chatted, then she was on her way again and so was I, as I left to walk through downtown Wyandotte to head to my next destination.
BASF Waterfront Park – Wyandotte, Michigan.
My next stop was at BASF Park, an 85-acre park dedicated in 1995 by chemical company BASF Corporation. This followed a clean-up of debris used in such heavy industrial businesses like shipbuilding and steelmaking.
It is always quiet at this park, except in Summer when Saturday regattas are held at the Wyandotte Boat Club. A nearby golf course is accessed from Biddle Avenue, so it is a pedestrian-only park.
I never see other walkers, just waddlers. There are a lot of Canada Geese roaming about, but there were no adult geese around that morning – they had evidently left their goslings to graze along the shoreline.
Next/last stop … Elizabeth Park – Trenton, Michigan.
The fourth park and third city in about three hours’ time – I was on a roll and no frosty fingers. What was I thinking back in January?
Elizabeth Park is one of my favorite county parks. On this beautiful day, there were more anglers lined up on the boardwalk, but no sign of the groundhog begging for treats.
It was a tad early and the pleasure boats were still moored in their respective boatwells.
The Detroit River, in the Downriver area where I stopped at these four parks, is approximately a half-mile wide, but the width varies, as much as up to three miles across. The River has an average depth of 35 feet. On any given day, you’ll see freighters, some close enough to see the freighter’s name, then you can track its whereabouts later on the website “Boat Nerd” – on this day, I saw several freighters. Freighters are a fun find on a river roam, but I’m partial to waterfowl as they’re more interesting.
It is not just freighters … on a beautiful day everyone loves to be out on the River.
As you likely know, the U.S. and Canada share an international border, the Detroit River, accessible by the Ambassador Bridge or via the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. We can stand on the U.S. side and see what’s happening with our Canadian neighbors and every July, a spectacular fireworks show, launched from barges in the Detroit River, is part of the International Freedom Festival, an event where one million people gather at the Detroit and Windsor riverfronts.
Since our Canadian neighbors are celebrating Thanksgiving today and here in the U.S. we are celebrating Columbus Day, I thought it was a perfect time for a post about roaming along the Detroit River shoreline.
It is said that every picture tells a story and the devastation left by Hurricane Ian’s wrath needs no words. Neighbors, friends, family and strangers are pulling together to help others pick up the pieces of their lives, if that’s even possible.
I heard a heart-warming story about how a contingent of local animal lovers, a/k/a the Michigan Humane Society Animal Search and Rescue Team, traveled to Lee County, Florida to employ their special skills in water and collapsed building disasters. They will help rescue pets who have become separated from their families. These folks took kennels, crates and supplies to set up temporary shelters to try and lessen the angst of the fur babies and their owners.
If that effort doesn’t give you a warm and fuzzy feeling, then perhaps today’s post will.
When you’re little and cute, you’ve got the world by the tail …
… or so it seems.
It was the Friday before Labor Day, September 2nd to be exact, when I trudged out the door. I use the word “trudge” as it was another stinkin’ hot and humid day and the weekend weather was forecast to be the same. I mused that it was the 11th anniversary of beginning my walking regimen, not only the calendar date, but coincidentally it was also the Friday preceding Labor Day. It was a stinkin’ hot day then too and I only walked one block … “baby steps” I told myself, thus eliminating any shin splints.
This year, in anticipation of the long holiday, I had been preoccupied with planning my weekend walking adventures, which were subsequently dashed after discovering my car was leaking oil. While my 2009 LaCrosse, with its meager mileage of just under 10,000 miles, was not leaking like the Exxon Valdez, I was concerned enough to stay close to home until I took the car in for service.
As mentioned in my previous post, “Dullsville” would describe my favorite nature nook most of the Summer, so I left the camera at home that morning, a decision I would regret a short time later.
Suddenly this ordinary walk morphed into this “tail” er … tale.
In the parking lot I met fellow walker Joanne who had already walked her miles. She told me about a huge eagle circling overhead the entire time she was walking. I suggested it was likely a hawk and said I worried about hawks snatching up squirrels and hoped they were savvy enough to dodge those predators.
I doled out peanuts and sunflower seeds at my first two stops and, after leaving the Safe Haven Tree, I returned to the path. I saw two young women walking toward me. One had something dark moving up and down her right arm. “It’s probably a kitten” I decided as I got closer.
Then I saw it was a tiny black squirrel shimmying up and down her bare arm.
Of course Your Roving Reporter had to get the scoop on this munchkin, all the while berating herself with a few choice words on why she had left her camera at home. This wasn’t the first time a photo op presented itself and I was sans camera.
I learned the two young women, whose names are Jennifer and Terra, walk every day at Council Point Park at various times, so we have never crossed paths before. They told me they had been on the perimeter path, then saw this cute critter in the grass under a tree, next to another baby squirrel, which unfortunately was dead. They assumed the two had fallen from their nest. Squirrels like to build their nests in very tall trees and this was not an especially tall tree …
… and we could not see a nest embedded in the leaves and branches, so we wondered if there were more babies up in the nest.
Although the baby squirrel was a little wobbly at first, it bopped along the perimeter path, as you see in this short video. Terra and Jennifer are speaking in the video.
After Jennifer picked up the baby squirrel, it started prowling up and down her arm and that is when I met them. We had no idea how old it was and Terra asked “is it okay to have a human touch the baby – would its Mama reject it?” My best guess was “maybe if it had no fur and its eyes were closed.” I told them in ten years of walking at this Park, I’d seen plenty of young squirrels, but no baby squirrels.
Terra picked up some peanuts from the ground and Jennifer smashed the shell between her fingers and offered the unshelled peanuts to the baby, but it showed no interest. I told them I had just put a lot of sunflower seeds out at the Safe Haven Tree and perhaps the seeds would appeal to it. Jennifer placed the baby under the tree, where other squirrels were already eating and we all decided it would be fine, Mom would come looking for her baby, or it would be “adopted” by the others. It appeared to be chomping on some sunflower seeds, so I told them with hawks about, it should stay safe here under the tree and not become a target for a hungry hawk.
Jennifer and Terra left and I cut my walk short to return home to grab the camera for some photos of the baby under the tree. These are some of my favorites.
While taking those photos, Henry, one of the regular walkers, stepped off the path to come talk to me. I gave him a synopsis of how this story unfolded thus far and he laughed and said “well, that’s easy – you like squirrels, so you take it home with you!” “Not gonna do that” I said while shaking my head, adding “I’ve got nowhere to keep a squirrel or a cage – no!” He said “I think you should do it – it was meant to be.” He said he had seen one large hawk go after three squirrels already. Yes, that made me worry for this defenseless baby.
In the above pictures, taken at close range, it would appear the baby squirrel was not that small; however, for perspective, see how tiny it is against this leaf …
… or with an adult squirrel close by, once again you see the contrast.
I told Henry about Jill the Squirrel, the internet sensation who tumbled out of a tree during Hurricane Isaac in 2012 and had been raised by humans since she was a baby. Jill is now ten years old and has her own Instagram account with 700,000 followers. “No way” he said as he whipped out his phone and spoke “Jill the Squirrel” into it and I watched him scrolling through some pictures, shaking his head, then he left to finish his walk.
After taking a slew of photos I left to go home to get ready for work. I resisted patting my petite furry friend on the head as it looked up at me and instead said “be good, stay safe and I’ll be back to visit tomorrow.”
Though I am adamant about no more pets in my life, I kept thinking about what Henry said the rest of the day. I felt badly for this orphaned baby and admit I kind of liked the notion of “A Girl and Her Squirrel Rebooted” but no way was I taking in an orphaned squirrel.
Flash forward 24 hours later.
About 8:30 Saturday morning I set out on the perimeter path, of course this time with my camera in tow. I was eager to see how the baby squirrel had fared. Ducking my head, I entered that sanctuary beneath the tree’s canopy and in the dim light could not find it anywhere. My heart sank. I doled out treats for the regulars, then crept back out into the bright sunlight. Jennifer and Terra arrived just then, saw me and hurried over. I gave them the news. Simultaneously they said “let’s check the tree” which we did and found this poor little soul, very weak and crouched in the grass.
Before they picked up the baby, I asked the girls to pose as I knew I would be writing a post.
[Terra on the left; Jennifer on the right.]
Jennifer reached down, picked the baby squirrel up and cradled it in her hands, while Terra petted it. That is the photo you see in the header image.
You can see the baby is almost motionless here in these two shots.
I asked if I could get any photos or videos they took yesterday. Jennifer pulled up my Facebook profile on her phone, then sent me a friend request and the promise of photos and videos.
We all agreed the baby squirrel looked weak and that Mom had not returned to carry her baby by the scruff of the neck back to the nest, likely as she was preyed upon by that big hawk the day before. We now realized this little squirt likely was not weaned, so it didn’t eat any solid food, causing it to be so weak. The girls decided to take the baby home and give it some milk and call a squirrel rehabber. I was walking and taking photos at the Park for several more hours and, when I got home and got online, both Jennifer and Terra had sent me Facebook messages, videos and pictures.
Up until Labor Day I hadn’t taken more than a handful of photos at my favorite nature nook, Council Point Park, after inundating you with images charting the goslings’ growth from nursery to teenagers back in the Spring. The truth is, nothing much has been happening. As hot as it was this Summer, I was sure I’d be sharing shots galore of “splooting” squirrels long before now, but, believe it or not, I never saw a single “splooter” until Labor Day weekend. More about those splooters later.
As mentioned in my prior post back in the Spring, once the goslings were old enough, they followed their parents, paddling down to the Detroit River, as the adults gathered in the water, safe from predators, while awaiting the growth of their flight feathers. The molting process takes several months from the time we first saw large quilled feathers laying around the perimeter path, until the parents return in early September with their new flight feathers and their offspring who are now young geese. During the lengthy absence of the geese, it is poop-free and drama-free along the perimeter path from Memorial Day to Labor Day. I find it odd, that “our geese” remain MIA, having not returned to their home turf and now a homeowner who lives on the fringe of the Park has stopped providing dishpans of water and corn for the geese and other critters.
After Harry the Heron wowed me (and you too) with his fishing prowess back in the Spring, he has similarly been missing. Is it a big-time attitude on his part, or the fishing has not been great at the cement landing? I beg to differ about the fish biting as Jacob and his little lady friend, that sweet toddler, have been fishing on multiple occasions this Summer at that location, she with her dark sunglasses and fishing rod in hand, a rubber worm dangling from a string (no hook) and Jacob unhooking shad and pitching them back into the murky waters of the Ecorse Creek.
I did see a Great Egret, first time ever, fishing at the other side of the Park.
Even the turtles have not been sunbathing on the fallen logs, ready to plop into the water as soon as they see the whites of my eyes – truthfully, it’s been a rather unremarkable Summer.
I didn’t know what to make of the absence of the regular critters – hopefully climate change is not wreaking havoc on my slice of paradise, as I shudder when I see the huge patches of algae bloom and green gook on the surface of the Ecorse Creek after multiple bouts of very hot and humid weather.
But some critters showed up to provide a photo op over Labor Day weekend. Below are a few of them.
Bunnies …
I saw this Cottontail Rabbit pawing the dry grass and then digging a hole. I wondered if she had a nest of babies. After taking these pictures, I looked every time I passed by that spot and she was gone, but I found no babies, so I figure she was channeling the squirrels’ zeal about storing peanuts for Winter. I contemplated using the bunny for a Wordless Wednesday post and entitling it “social media be like going down that ol’ rabbit hole.”
Duckies ….
I follow a few non-profit animal sites on Facebook, one which is the Michigan Duck Rescue and Sanctuary. I began following this worthy organization in South Lyon, Michigan where Matt and his wife Theresa, plus a team of volunteers, will go anywhere, at any time of the day/night to rescue waterfowl, mostly ducks. The Sanctuary is a big barn and pond and home to hundreds of waterfowl, mostly those born with birth defects, or wounded and sadly, domestic ducks that are tossed out like yesterday’s trash when they have grown out of their cute duckling stage.
I learned about Matt and Theresa’s sanctuary after two large, light-brown ducks were nuzzling my knees for treats as I made my way along the perimeter path back in December 2019. I took pictures and sent them to Matt and he told me they were domestic Khaki Campbell ducks and obviously abandoned. He told me to call him immediately the next time I saw them and someone would come rescue them. I never saw them again and worried for their welfare throughout that bitter cold Winter.
I also reached out to Matt after our duckling rescue from the sewer last year when Mama Mallard waddled off without counting her ducklings and one was still squeaking and peeping in the sewer. After this duckling’s eventual rescue, Matt was happy to take this little girl and a volunteer came to pick her up.
So, while I walked around the perimeter path on Labor Day weekend, it piqued my interest why a young man was sitting on a park bench, lost in thought, a blue tub nearby and a pair of oversized ducks waddling around him. I suspected he was not taking his ducks on an outing, but was preparing to leave them there. Should I approach him and tell him about Matt? I knew I should not assume anything, nor did I want to insult him by suggesting he would abandon these ducks. The young man left the park bench and walked along the pathway, his ducks waddling behind him, clearly enjoying their outing and happy for the change of pace. People were whipping out their phones as he walked by, snapping shots of the ducks, me included. I stopped him and asked what their names were – the Rouen (brown female) was Maria and the Blue Swedish Duck (large gray/white/black male) was Benjamin. He told me he had to get rid of these ducks which were pets that he had since they were ducklings, because neighbors were complaining of the noise and mess. I gave him Matt’s contact info and he pulled up the site on his phone. He said he thought of taking them to the Petting Farm at Heritage Park, but had not yet made up his mind. They followed him to the parking lot and he placed them carefully into the tub. I’ll have some pictures of those happy-go-lucky ducks for Wordless Wednesday.
I sent Matt a Facebook message and the ducks’ photos and asked him to let me know if/when they were at his place – not yet as of this writing and I stopped at Heritage Park last weekend, but they are not there yet either.
Nuttin’ Honeys…
Thankfully my Nuttin’ Honeys are still there … as is Mr. Hawk, a fact which disturbs me greatly.
Henry, one of the regular walkers, stopped to tell me he saw a huge hawk swoop down one morning and three squirrels ran for their lives successfully evading the raptor. I caution my little buddies to watch their backs and stay under the pavilion or Safe Haven Tree or to dash into the bushes where I leave a pile of sunflower seeds and peanuts nearby, but, because they are already in gathering-and-burying mode as to any peanuts doled out, who am I to suggest that running clear across the grassy “donut hole” to bury a peanut for Winter, rather than enjoying it on the spot, is not a great idea due to the watchful eyes of Mr. Hawk?
I hope to never see a hawk snatch up a squirrel in its talons.
I wanted to take pictures of the Safe Haven Tree as the branches almost hit the ground. To me, it seems like a little fortress – it is impenetrable to raptors like the hawk. The Jays, Chickadees, Cardinals and Woodpeckers land up top, then hop down to gorge on treats.
For me, that convenient side opening, allows my easy access to make the “drop” and scurry out again. I did not take pruning shears with me – it just happened to grow like that with an opening. Once under the canopy of the tree, look inside how roomy this area is, just waiting for hungry birds and squirrels to dine.
Soon, the leaves will begin to turn and fall leaving the tree bare, but its sturdy branches will still tickle the ground and no hawk is going to go inside.
The moderate drought we had for most of July rendered the grass yellow and crispy to walk on. Just like the yellow-toned grass, the rest of the landscape has been a bit wishy-washy and devoid of color. The few Spring Beauties wildflowers I photographed under the trees that line the Ecorse Creek are long gone and Chicory …
… complemented by Queen Anne’s Lace have taken its place.
The Goldenrod lights up the pathway with splashes of color and the Sumac leaves along the Creek side of the Park were blotchy red in spots with the bright-red flower springing out of the leaves – that was it for color.
There were less thistles this year which translated to less goldfinches flitting around. I missed their cheery song. Even Rex-the Red-bellied Woodpecker has been scarce and I suspect he’s happier to see me when his live grubs are no longer available, so peanuts, sunflower seeds, even woodpecker suet will become his go-to treat once again.
A black squirrel scurried across the field and I shoved my hand into the peanut bag to call out to him, then jiggled a few peanuts in my palm. But my little pal rebuffed me and got a firmer grip on a black walnut still in the husk that he clenched between his teeth.
I only learned about these “tree treats” a few years ago and still don’t know what Park tree tenders these squirrel goodies. I do see piles of green on the trail where squirrels have chewed off the rind to get the prize nut inside. So, this black squirrel saw me and realized it should take its prize “to go” lest I try to grab it. I was only interested in grabbing a photo and waited patiently for that squirrel to settle into the tree to chomp on the treat. I liked what I saw.
But, after he finished that walnut, he was looking for peanuts and sunflower seeds, as you see below as he shimmies down the tree …
Below, a Robin suddenly appeared (looking almost like a ghostly apparition). It seemed inquisitive while wondering “is Linda passing out worms today?”
An Eastern Gray squirrel decided going headfirst down the tree could guarantee a peanut for its effort.
I brought along some whole almonds – I’d rather not break my teeth on them; the squirrels grow new teeth all the time. They were given the sniff test, then promptly scarfed down.
Yellow Poplar leaves litter the perimeter path. Falling face down, they remind me of little hearts. But these little hearts have jagged tears in them – climate change infiltrating my little nature nook? It seems crumpled Poplar leaves as early as mid-August have become the norm now. Remember that I have been walking here for a decade, so have become accustomed to seeing which trees drop their leaves first.
Just one picture of a young Fox squirrel – you can tell the young squirrels from their skinny tails. If you ever saw a picture of a “kit” or baby squirrel, they are just about an inch long, weighing one ounce with a skinny tail that resembles a mouse tail. Mom nurtures her hairless, pink babies who have their eyes closed for about two months. So these little guys are easy to recognize. I think Mom tells them the “safe humans” to approach and I feel honored they finally approach me after turning back initially. They know I am not the lady who walks around with a golf club if any squirrel gets near her. I’ve remarked to her that the squirrels mean no harm and are simply begging for peanuts as people indulge them, but I am insulted for my thoughts, so happily I have only seen her once this season.
I will be writing a separate post about a baby squirrel here at Council Point Park, an event that occupied my thoughts on the Friday before the Labor Day holiday and Saturday as well. I took a slew of photos and there will be a tale to be told, with videos from a fellow walker, so that will be next Monday’s post. Well, I saved the best for last – the splooting squirrels. It was very hot over Labor Day weekend and several squirrels were stretched out, like frogs, letting the cool asphalt path or grass cool down their little bodies. I admit the first time I saw this happen a few years ago, it was disturbing.
Hope you enjoyed this potpourri of Park photos taken over Labor Day weekend
Just two more days until Summer wraps up and we venture into Autumn.
This trip to the Emily Frank Gardens at the Trenton Cultural Center on July 31st was probably one of the shortest walks at a venue that I’ve taken, then blogged about. But, rest assured, after capturing about 200 images at the Gardens, I headed to Lake Erie Metropark, Humbug Marsh, the Alpaca Farm, then Elizabeth Park, aiming to walk more miles and make the most of my day before my self-imposed month of errands, etc. that would occupy my August agenda.
I had seen photos of the Gardens and Cultural Center previously on social media and put it on my list of “places to visit sometime” and then, after I began following Facebook posts by the plein air painting group in the Spring, this was one of the venues they visited. A few group members painted the big red barn with its whimsical wall and nearby Children’s Garden. It looked like a fun place so I stopped there on June 18th to check it out.
The Gardens was a beehive of activity, even in the early morn. I met Debbie Barnes and many of her slew of volunteers a/k/a “Garden Angels” that maintain the Emily Frank Gardens PLUS the 300-plant pollinator gardens at MacArthur Park a mile or so down the road. A couple of the volunteers were headed to MacArthur Park for gardening chores and said “come, check it out!” Another volunteer responded to my “oohs and aahs” while I picked my way along the mulched paths, carefully stepping over garden hoses, saying“you absolutely have to return later in the Summer when the Gardens are in full bloom!”
So I did and will likely scrap the June 18th photos in favor of those taken when the blooms were at their peak.
As I drove to the Gardens, I wondered if there would be sunflowers and assumed, given the heat, humidity and occasional copious bouts of rain, that there would be an abundance of sunflowers to photograph and the Gardens did not disappoint.
Maybe a Bummer Summer for us, but the Sunflowers were Sunsational!
So, that is the backstory on why I found myself on July 31st strolling around the Emily Frank Gardens, the only flower-loving soul there, (unless you want to count “Golden Boy” my little male Goldfinch, who was not keen on posing in or on the sunflowers, preferring instead to play hide-and-go-seek with me most of the time I was there).
Yes, Debbie Barnes was right – it was an entirely different landscape, “carpeted” with bright flowers everywhere. Garden ornaments were at every twist and turn on the mulched and paved paths: stone children with arms or wheelbarrows filled with flowers, makeshift receptacles brimming with bright blooms – even birdbaths spilling vines as a few butterflies and bees flitted about. I truly didn’t know where to look first. I will wait until the coldest and ugliest days in Winter to create a post with these bountiful blooms and will wow you with them then.
But in the interim, though we have waved “hi” and “bye” to the Harvest Moon, Autumn décor abounds and pumpkin treats have been eyed or snatched up, a beautiful reminder of Summer’s endless sunny days are the perpetually happy-looking sunflowers.
Here are my favorite shots from that morning, some sunflowers still in progress, others already bowing their heads as they were so laden with seeds. I have interspersed some photos of the Goldfinch who dived in and out of the blooms in search of seeds to nibble on. He was, at times, elusive and I think thought I was a bit of a pain to intrude upon his breakfast ritual.
A little birdie suggested I share some shots of his home at the whimsical Children’s Garden at Emily Frank Gardens and so I will do so for this Wordless Wednesday. (Fellow blogger Jeanine will love it as it’s kitschy.)
I’m going to stray from the beaten path just a little today for this Grandparents Day post. If you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you long ago learned that I have plenty good to write about my beloved grandmother, but nothing good to say about my grandfather. He was ornery and cantankerous and completely devoid of personality – not the kind of grandfather who wanted you to sit in his lap and read you a book. When I was a child he said I was stupid because my pronunciation of French words I learned in grade school was incorrect and unlike his Quebecois pronunciation. He was born in Quebec and lived there until moving to Toronto as an adult and he spoke fluent French. After calling me stupid, I simply slid down off my chair and bit him on the ankle, like I was the family dog who was ticked off because it begged for food at the table and was rebuffed. He let out a yelp and swore, then said I should be punished. My grandmother found the incident amusing – my parents not so much.
I actually had a post bubbling around in my brain, complete with photos, that I planned to write yesterday for Grandparents Day. But then Queen Elizabeth II passed away on Thursday. I felt sad to hear of her passing and, in the past few days, I have been engrossed in watching several retrospectives of her life and read a lot of heartfelt comments about her extraordinary 70-year reign. Many of the comments from around the world were from folks that wrote or said that “her passing was like losing a grandmother.” I took those comments to heart and yesterday decided to change the subject of today’s planned post – it is evergreen and will keep until next year.
In writing about the late Queen Elizabeth and today’s subject of tea, this post is the perfect opportunity to share the video of Her Majesty and Paddington Bear and their tea party during this Summer’s Jubilee celebration. Click here – it is guaranteed to bring you a smile. I first saw this video after fellow blogger Hugh Roberts and I were discussing our teddy bear collection and he sent me the video, which has gained more popularity following the Queen’s death when Paddington Bear tweeted this simple message:
Looking back a little … okay, more than a few decades.
As most of you know, I am a Canadian citizen who lived in that country until my parents and I moved here when I was 10 years old. In the five years I attended elementary school in Canada, my classmates and I had a daily morning ritual after the school bell rang. We stood up straight, faced the Union Jack flag (and later, after 1965, Canada’s own Maple leaf flag), then we sang “God Save the Queen” our young voices echoing through the halls of E.A. Orr Elementary School.
Yes, the British influence upon Canada was very much a part of my childhood.
I saw a lot of people curtsying to the Queen in the videos I watched and, like every little Canadian girl, I learned to curtsy back in the day. My mom, due to orthopedic issues from being hit by a car at age 11, could not bend her knees to squat down, nor to curtsy, but she wanted her little girl to be the epitome of genteel, so she recruited my grandmother to show me. Nanny, as I called my grandmother, with her arthritic knees, made a clumsy attempt to teach me, almost falling to the ground in a heap amid some giggles on my part (and hers as well). I remember that tutorial like it was yesterday. So, I learned and practiced my newfound skill and made everyone proud, picking up the sides of my dress and executing the perfect petite curtsy, but to this day I have never curtsied to anyone, though I may have taken a bow after an accordion recital or two.
Last year for Grandparents Day I wrote about how my grandmother brought me presents of lavender as a preteen, so that I also might enjoy that scent as much as she did.Yardley’s of London Lavender soap, bath salts and toilet water permeated my grandmother’s bedroom and bath and even today, lavender is a scent I will always associate with Nanny. However, the preteen Linda, was not so enamored with smelling like potpourri. I politely accepted her gifts, never once hinting that I did not surround myself in a vapor or cloud of lavender scent. After all, I only saw my grandmother four or five times a year when we made the 500-mile round trip from our house to Toronto after moving to Michigan.
Drinking tea is just “not my cup of tea” as the saying goes.
When I got older, my always-thoughtful, tea-drinking grandmother decided it was time to start me on a collection of bone china teacups. I received my first teacup one Christmas and then the next teacup for my birthday.
Perhaps, while sipping her own mug of tea, Nanny pictured her granddaughter sipping tea and eating dainty cakes, or lost in thought like the young woman in the painting by Daniel F. Gerhartz found on Pinterest and pictured in the header image.
Each teacup gift was wrapped in a layers of tissue paper in a fancy-schmancy box and adorned with a ribbon. There were, of course, no instructions on how to enjoy this gift, nothing like this meme found on Twitter.
Again, I never would have hurt Nanny’s feelings, but truly, this gal was not the prim-and-proper, crumpets-with-tea type. First, I loathe tea and even struggle to swallow green tea which I only drink because it is good for you.
My “cuppa” preference is a strong cup of joe, with some flavored caramel-vanilla creamer in it … now that’s my treat. And, I prefer to drink it in a mug as you see those flowered and teddy bear cups flanking the tea cups.
Of course, writing about these teacups and how they have been stacked in the cupboard over the fridge for decades, unused (and seemingly unloved), makes me sound like an ingrate, which I’m not. Nanny stopped buying me teacups, perhaps because my mom said I didn’t use them and was saving them for “good” but every so often I open the cupboard and look at them.
I have mused about making them into bird feeders like I saw on Pinterest. Now THAT is more my style and I am sure my grandmother, similarly a nature and flower lover would approve.
Here are some photos below of her flowers and plants, her pride and joy for many years. My grandmother was famous for visiting a friend, swiping a “slip” of a houseplant on the sly and tucking it into her purse to start her own plant at home. She’d often tote along a wet Kleenex in a plastic bag in her purse, then she’d stick that slip of green into a glass of water and soon it would take root and flourish. In some of these old pictures I wonder if a few of those houseplants on her back porch and/or trailing vines at 24 St. Clarens Avenue (all the B&W pics) were once slips slyly gleaned from friends. When my grandparents moved up the street to 86 St. Clarens Avenue years later, there was still a garden, but houseplants filled the back kitchen instead of the back porch. Her Christmas Cactus was huge and graced an old Singer treadle sewing machine.
Minnie Goddard – back garden at 24 St. Clarens Avenue, Toronto (date unknown)
Pauline Schaub (nee Goddard) – back garden at 24 St. Clarens Avenue, Toronto (date unknown)
Omer Goddard – back garden at 24 St. Clarens Avenue, Toronto (date unknown)
Linda Schaub – back garden at 24 St. Clarens Avenue (1957)
Linda Schaub – back garden at 24 St. Clarens Avenue (1957)
Minnie Goddard – Irises, backyard at 86 St. Clarens Avenue, Toronto (1985)
Minnie Goddard and me – Hollyhocks, backyard at 86 St. Clarens Avenue, Toronto (1984)
Hollyhocks close-up, one of Nanny’s favorite flowers.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 