Happiness is a place between too much and too little. ~ Chanwit Whanset
I saw this quotation
today and decided I was going to incorporate it into this long-overdue
post. I took these pictures of this sweet
black squirrel several weeks ago (even before the garage door debacle, the
finger fiasco, the computer meltdown and the hot as h*ll heat dome, all ugly
incidents which seemed to encompass most of my July). But, every time I planned to do this post, it
was either storming, or I stayed late at work, or I felt badly because I was so
far behind in Reader, I couldn’t justify doing a post, so I just let it go.
There is no happy medium
for anything these days, especially the weather. But, I have experienced joy this past few
days as the weather has been just perfect … perfect to savor Summer as it was
meant to be. I made up for Sunday’s lost
miles by getting extra steps in each morning.
On Sunday, I could not walk at Meijer, my go-to spot in hot weather,
because the store was just one of many along Dix Avenue that lost power for two
solid days.
Savoring the small things.
So, I have walked my socks off this week, savoring each step along the way. Unfortunately, the heat will return by the weekend, but it is supposed to stay sunny and rain-free (as of today anyway).
Just as walking in my favorite nature nook brings happiness to me, a single peanut gave a lot of happiness to this little black squirrel. Even though I dumped eight peanuts at her feet to enjoy, she took this one peanut and ran around on the ground as she circled the tree, while trying to decide whether she should bury it, or just eat this treasure. She went up and down the tree, looking coyly at me, while I kept saying: “Honey – enjoy that peanut because you’ve got plenty of other peanuts here for later!” This little Mama was full of energy and I had to grin at her antics and stop myself from gifting this little soul with the rest of the Ziploc bag of peanuts.
This was the series of pictures from the time I dropped peanuts on the path until she finally went up in the tree and eventually ate that prized peanut.
My squirrels are back on the path, lively as ever, although they didn’t come back right away after the Heat Wave of 2019. No, they stayed up in their nests until Wednesday morning. I fretted about their absence on the perimeter path, and when they returned, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, believe me when I say I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Well, the storm blew through here, just seconds after I published
yesterday’s post. I shut off the
computer and pulled its plug. It was the
fourth storm with severe potential in two days, and I am sure I was not alone
in the camp of weary weather worriers.
But Saturday night’s volatile weather, unlike the other three
recent storms in Southeast Michigan, targeted my neck of the woods. While I was preparing the post about the moon
landing, I was back-and-forth to Twitter checking the weather service, and
local meteorologists’ posts regarding the progress of the impending storm, as
well as reviewing a flurry of warnings by Nixle, the service that alerts
residents to impending community disasters, weather-related or otherwise. I heard the whoosh of the wind, the slow, long
rumbles of thunder and the rhythmic pitter patter of rain on the patio roof,
but no hail yet, thankfully. I switched
the radio on to monitor whether conditions were in fact still ripe for a tornado,
a prediction that had been mentioned earlier in the day. There was a seemingly endless list of traffic
issues due to quick ponding on the roads, but nothing like the 60-vehicle accident
last week, when sheets of rain caused drivers to hydroplane into one another. I snapped the A/C off, as well as the radio,
so I could hear any emergency sirens.
Mother Nature sure has a bee in her bonnet this season – that’s
for sure. Even Garfield the Cat tweeted
out the above cartoon about the #2019heatwave.
Summer – I hate this “new norm” and want the Summer of yesteryear back!
Within minutes after turning the A/C off, it began to feel a
bit stifling, so I switched on the fan.
I heard no emergency alert sirens, just the endless drone of the metal blades
whirring around and redistributing the hot air. I felt a bit sleepy and started to zone out. My mind began to drift to yesteryear –
Summer, with its seemingly endless, fun-in-the-sun days, spent playing with
friends, and evenings outside collecting fireflies with a jam jar with tiny
holes in the tin lid – how they lit up the night!
Back in the day, we soaked in our wading pools, or giggled
when we ran through the sprinkler to cool off.
We didn’t sit in the house like a potted plant, stationed in front of a
fan just because it was too hot to be outside.
Not at all – we were outside soaking up the sun, our arms and legs turning
golden brown; we were towheads by the end of the season, with hair bleached
from so many hours in the sun. Our lips were
puckered after chugging down a glass of lemonade, or purple from sucking on a
grape Popsicle.
We caught grasshoppers with our bare hands, then felt them tickling
our hands and they left “tobacco stains” on our fingers and palms when we
released them. We’d study fuzzy caterpillars
as they inched up trees or bricks warmed by the sun. Even the orb-weaver spiders fascinated us, while
we’d watch them spinning their ornate webs between each cedar bush. With wide-eyed wonderment we’d see them lure
their prey into those sticky filaments. Summer
was not just fun, but a learning experience as well!
No wonder we were tuckered out at night, as we were either
riding our trikes or bikes, or walking to the end of Sandmere Place, where we ran
and played in the meadow for hours on end.
We would pick handfuls of sweet pink
clover and pull the petals out and suck on the ends … it tasted like honey and
looked like this.
We’d lay on our backs, gazing at the shapes of the clouds and
guessing if they reminded us of animals or whatnot, while enjoying our clover
break. Clover didn’t give us cavities or
make us too full for supper.
It was never too hot to enjoy our Summer break from school –
we were young and carefree. Summer
seemed to hold so much allure back then.
Those honey bunnies love their clover too.
I watched some bunnies at Council Point Park recently. Now that the ducks and geese have left this
venue and Harry the Heron can’t land on the flooded cement landing, critter
pickin’s for photo ops are slim. (I’ve
saved some squirrel photos though in case you need a “squirrel fix” and I’ll be
sharing them soon.) My squirrels, when
they are not up in their nests, are on the ground or lower tree branches wilted
and not their usual perky selves these days.
The birds are up in their nests.
So by default, the bunnies are the only furry friends left to enjoy
right now.
While the bunnies are more chipper than the squirrels, they
don’t interact with you and cannot be lured over with a peanut. I’ve even bought baby carrots for them in the
past, and, if you put some on the perimeter path, it really doesn’t interest
them at all. They want to munch on
grass, unless you startle them and they’ll bound off, their powderpuff tail
flashing at you. The bunnies will find
grass somewhere else with no humans looming over them.
The Park bunnies are brave these days, because the clover is plentiful
at the Park, as you see below. This is
just ordinary white clover, but there is plenty of pink clover too, though I’ll
pass on that treat now – we never worried about pesticides back when we were
kids.
Come to think of it, I don’t think we worried about anything
to tell you the truth.
I saw this interesting chalk art the other day and I’m going to use it to segue from bunnies to ice cream.
So, when I popped onto Twitter earlier today, I was surprised to see that there is a movement underway to bring back “Popsicle Twins” as they were known to us.
When I was a kid, if our family went into town, we’d stop at a little store that sold ice cream and old-fashioned candy. While waiting for our ice cream cones, I would wander around peering through the big glass jars that contained all types of candy. I always stopped at the jars of black licorice Scotty dogs or black licorice pipes. That black licorice wasn’t sweet because it was pure licorice, made with licorice root and anise, so it was brown inside and a little bitter. I think the bigger draw, more than that bitter-tasting licorice, was the fact that it made your tongue black. So, the licorice treats I was allowed to have occasionally, but the gumballs and sticky, gooey caramels and peanut butter kisses were strictly verboten.
When we got our ice cream cones they were a double scoop, but not like you’re used to today – they were side-by-side ice cream scoops. I searched around for a photo of one of those old, very cool-looking, double-cone ice cream cones and sure enough I found one image on Pinterest. The shop sold Sealtest brand ice cream and I’d get a scoop each of strawberry and chocolate – my parents never strayed from vanilla.
The brutal reality.
It was nice going back a little and remembering how fun
Summer used to be. In 2018 and 2019
Summer has lost its luster in my opinion – in fact it has become a bit of a
drag. I’m feeling fortunate, however,
because this morning upon reviewing our City’s crime and local news Facebook
site, I was amazed to see that the high winds took down several trees and many
power lines just a few blocks away – they are on a different grid than me. Meijer, my spot to walk in this oppressive
heat, similarly lost power so I skipped a walk today. Almost 400,00 homes or businesses are without
power right now and some won’t have restoration until late Tuesday.
One last reflection on the past, if you’ll indulge me. Even though the wicked storms and volatile
weather which took down power lines and left us in the dark with no juice, were
few and far between, back then, our neighbors banded together to make things more
comfortable for one another. We all know
how neighbors want to borrow a cup of sugar for a recipe, but our neighbors
across the street, upon losing their power, once asked if they could hook up an
extension cord to our garage power outlet to get some “juice” to run a fan. We indulged them. My next-door neighbor brought over coffee and
bacon and eggs made on their gas grill when we both had a power outage … her son,
who lived in nearby Wyandotte at the time, took all our frozen food to their home,
as he was a hunter and had a chest freezer in the garage. They even accommodated some of our refrigerated
food, thus angst relieved over food spoilage.
We lived like that for an entire week one time in the heat of the Summer.
But it still does not rival what is happening these days.
When I think of the moon, the first thing that comes to mind
is the song “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra.
Though I’m not a Frank Sinatra fan, I grew up listening to his songs every
Sunday as the 33 RPM vinyl LPs dropped, one at a time, on the stereo spindle. Ol’ Blue Eyes was interspersed between Jim
Reeves, Patsy Cline and Hank Williams,
Sr., my folks’ personal favorites.
I’m sure I’m not the only person whose parents parted the
curtains so their kids could peer out the window at the full moon. I was told if I squinted really hard, I could
probably see the Man in the Moon looking back at me. I squinted, but didn’t see anything. I even waved, but he never waved back, like
the friendly conductor in the little red caboose whenever we got stopped at the
railroad tracks going to my grandmother’s house.
So, I guess as a kid I didn’t buy into the Man in the Moon
story – did you?
But, fifty years ago today, I was sitting there, parked in
front of the television as the culmination of the Apollo 11 space mission was
displayed for everyone to see. I am sure
if someone had a camera, our mouths were open in an “O” shape as we stared in wonderment
as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the lunar surface and uttered those now-famous
words: “That’s
one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
So, you want to be a millionaire, eh?
My parents read the daily newspaper cover to cover back in
the day, and when we had all perused the story and pictures heralding this
monumental mission, my mom handed me the front page of the newspaper and said “put
this newspaper in your desk and hold onto it – one day this will be worth
something!”
Being the dutiful child that I was, I did just that, tucked it
into my desk, and, because I was so much more organized in those days, I know
exactly where it is today … top pull-out drawer, underneath a plastic tray that
holds pencils, erasers, paper clips, maybe even a protractor and compass from circa
1969 – yup, that is where it has been
for fifty years minus one day.
I decided I was going to get that newspaper out and take a
photo of the front page for this post, then return it to its safe spot once
again, only I didn’t factor in that back in 2017 when I cleaned the basement
after the insulation job, I pushed a wall of blue Rubbermaid totes in front of
the desk and a heavy coat rack in front of the totes. Oops!
Nope, I wasn’t going to move all that – no way. Maybe for the 75th anniversary of
the moon landing.
In the meantime, I decided to Google around to find the same
picture featured on the front page of “The Detroit News” on July 21, 1969. My search took me to eBay where not only the
July 21st newspaper was featured, but also the special edition and a
local paper moon event special as well. Bidding
started at $29.99.
Hmm – so much for being a millionaire!
So, I continued my search to find that elusive front page of “The
Detroit News” … here you see it on July 21, 1969, both above the fold …
…and below the fold.
[I gleaned these reproductions from “The Detroit News”.]
Moon pies and mishaps.
I was at Meijer a few months ago and a display of Oreo
cookies honoring the 50th anniversary of the moon landing caught my
eye. It was a smaller-than-average
package and had glow-in-the-dark stickers which you see in the header image above. I decided I should have this treat “for the
cause” so I bought them and put them away, intending to enjoy them today with
Tang, er … a tall glass of cold milk.
Unfortunately, the day I smashed my finger in the garage
door, the “cause” became immediate, and, in a moment of frustration, I slit open
the package and ate them left-handed as I held my throbbing ring finger on my
right hand above my head, cradled inside a bag of frozen berries.
Funny, but the Oreos didn’t make my finger feel any better
and they were marshmallow, kind of resembling a Moon pie, not the traditional
white cream … if you’re a purist about your Oreos, you know what I mean. Also, the marshmallow inside the Oreos was
purple, just like my finger.
The way I figure it, the moon and stars are not aligned at
this house …
First, the garage door spring went wonky, then the new garage door held my finger hostage where the panels go together for a brief second, then the other day a simple Windows update caused my computer to have a meltdown and I’m still putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. Hopefully normalcy will prevail soon.
The Kennedy Space Center.
I looked back in my online photos albums I scanned in a few
years ago to see if I had any pictures from a family trip to Florida in 1972 where
we stopped at the Kennedy Space Center. I was sure we had a family photo posed there,
but all I had was this space capsule.
“The Eagle has Landed!!”
Before the historic steps on the lunar surface, Neil
Armstrong announced that they had
touched down on the moon by saying “Houston,
Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.”
Not
long ago, we reached 96 degrees at Metro Airport, one degree less than the
record set in 1977. I was successful
getting this post done, barely, since still another storm, as a result of the
oppressive heat, is now here, bringing strong wind, hail and possible tornadic
conditions as I publish this post. It is whooshing around now and I can hear
rain pelting down, so likely will pull
the plug on the computer and hope for the best.
I remember hearing this expression when I was a
youngster – my parents would say “oh ya, they’re doin’ great – they’ve got it
made in the shade now.” I’ll bet it was
an expression that a beatnik like Maynard Krebs would have said. But that saying, just like a lot of other
fun, but archaic, expressions back in the day, like declaring someone is “sittin’
pretty” when they are doing well, have gone the way of the VW Bus and
Beetle.
Get set to sweat!
That’s what our weather forecasters told us last week already – well, they got that right! Today I did not meander the pathways at Council Point Park, but instead I marched through the aisles at Meijer, wending my way around the perimeter of the store enough times to make four miles – any more trips and I might have been arrested for loitering. I’m only kidding about the loitering of course, because I saw a few other walkers there, and besides, I’ve been shopping at this store since the good old Farmer Jack supermarket closed down suddenly in 2006 and Meijer instantly became my go-to spot for groceries. I chitchat with many of the clerks while I am there and know several by name, including Barb, the weekday greeter, who is married to the former guard at the building where our office suite is, so we always stop to shoot the breeze.
Speaking of a breeze, there was none this morning,
and that’s why I opted for the air conditioning to get in my steps – it was a
sultry 75 F (23 C), with a real feel of nearly 80 (26 C), as the humidity was
so high. Just walking from the car
through the parking lot left beads of sweat on my brow, so I headed for the big
freezers and refrigerated section first, sidling past the frozen sweet peas while
gazing longingly at the Klondike Bars.
We’ve been in this wicked heat wave now for several weeks, but the end of the week will be oppressive – Friday and Saturday are predicted to be 96 F (35 C) with a heat index of 105 F (40 C) and storms both days. I fear a power outage from electricity overload – it happened last year and I lost my power for a day last June. I also worry about severe weather, including tornadoes, with this heat.
As to staying cool as a cucumber, it’s pretty
difficult whether you are walking on two legs or four.
If you’re lucky and your father built you a tree house, that’s the perfect venue to stay cool, up amongst the trees and having your parents sending cool drinks and lunch up to your hideaway via a pulley system, as you while away the hours on hot Summer days. This is the same home I featured a few years ago – they have décor that is homespun and cozy-looking and I’ve complimented the homeowners on their décor several times through the years. The Dad built this tree house five years ago and I spotlighted it in a blog post. I had watched its progress over the Summer of 2014. You can check out that post right here, or see how that work in progress looked in 2014 and how it looks today, all covered in ivy and with many more enhancements – perhaps this is a version of a small house, only up in a tree.
But how do you keep cool if you’re not cocooned in a
tree house or in your own air-conditioned home or at work? I don’t know how the people who work outside
do it – I was pretty tuckered out after doing my steps yesterday.
When it comes to shady things, I aim for the shady
side of the Park in this hot weather.
One loop has more trees that are closer to the pathway and in some
places form a canopy over the path – whew, it feels good to be in that area,
and that is where the most birds and squirrels are as well.
Perhaps a little sit-down was in order.
I might have wanted to have a sit down, but there
were a few issues that I could see.
This used to be a park bench and suddenly it was tumbling down; some cement and a few wooden slats are all that remain now. That happened Monday after I left. It was good for some critter pictures as the squirrels used to run along the top of the bench, or perch nicely while noshing on nuts.
While you could have a sit-down here, the view is
nothin’ special.
This bench has been warped like this for as long as I’ve walked at the Park … you could take a load off your feet, but I bet you’d get a sinking feeling, although it’s perfect to perch on if you’re a squirrel.
Speaking of squirrels – how are my peanut pals faring these days?
Last year, I did a post showing
the squirrels up in the tree branches.
They looked listless with their tails stretched out like a banner, and all
four legs dangling down. Last week in a
post you saw a squirrel stretched out in the shady part of the perimeter path,
similarly looking lifeless.
Yesterday I saw one of my furry friends
up in a tree, in a similar position – he looked at me as if to say “go away, I
want to be alone in my misery” … I took several shots of him.
Then I jiggled the bag of peanuts and told him I was going to leave a little pile at the base of the tree for when he felt better. I opened the Ziploc bag which I had just filled that morning and a fresh peanut smell wafted through the warm and humid air. I think he came to life because suddenly he seemed to say: “I was just stretched out contemplating life and very very hot, but wait … is that peanuts I smell? Well perhaps I could persuade you to put the peanuts up here next to me on the branch – what say you Linda?”
I stayed awhile to see just how tempting those peanuts were and soon, very slowly, he descended the tree, grabbed a peanut, then scrambled back up to his shady haven.
Stay cool in this sizzling weather, and enjoy treats – especially the ice cream variety!
… or perhaps I should say flitting, as in flitting by. That is the case with butterflies
anyway. We have to seize the opportunity
to enjoy their presence, as we really only have a few short months every year
to do so.
Here in the Midwest, we have four distinct seasons
(or we used to – grrr). During those
dark and dreary, and brutally cold Michigan Winters, the allure of long summer
days, baking in the sun or spending time on the water is what often keeps us
going. We glom onto all that Summer has
to offer here in the Great Lakes State, not unlike a moth is drawn to a flame,
or a butterfly will gravitate to the most colorful and beautiful blooms in a
garden.
The rainy, not to mention hot and steamy, weather
has Michiganders bemoaning climate change and declaring it to be a bit of a
bummer Summer. We expected more – even
craved it, after our lackluster Spring. I’ve
already witnessed leaves fluttering to the ground, yet I’ve had only one
goldfinch sighting, and zero glimpses of hummingbirds hovering about – even the
butterflies have been scarce in the ‘hood, or at the Park.
Except for the other day.
Well, this was an unexpected surprise.
I remember reading a quote many years ago by
naturalist Henry David Thoreau about happiness and a butterfly, so I searched
for it to use in this post:
“Happiness is like a butterfly, the more you chase it, the more it will evade you, but if you notice the other things around you, it will gently come and sit on your shoulder.”
I was at Council Point Park the other morning, just
doing my steps and enjoying the trek, when another walker came along, pointed
to my shoulder and said “did you know you have a butterfly on your shoulder?” I immediately swiveled my head around, and
sure enough, there was a Red Admiral butterfly perched prettily on my white
tee-shirt. Now, I often have more
colorful, even tropical-looking, shirts I wear during those steamy hot days,
and I could have understood if that butterfly honed in on one of those “flowers”
… but a white tee-shirt? At any rate, it
settled there, daintily opening and closing its wings. Janet, the other walker, said “look at that,
its outside wings are brown and it would blend into a tree – its coloring even looks like a brown leaf!” Then the Red Admiral spread those wings to
reveal its true colors: black lower wings,
orange stripes and white dots. For a
second or two, I thought “should I have Janet take a picture of it on my
shoulder?” Then I decided that
butterfly’s visit was fleeting and it would soon flutter off.
But I was wrong (no, it’s not the first time).
That butterfly decided to go for a free ride. It clung to my shoulder while I kept glancing
back, craning my neck to get a glimpse of it in my peripheral vision, while it
was opening and closing its wings and just enjoying the view. Unbelievably, that Red Admiral butterfly stayed
there on my shoulder for about a mile and a half before it finally took
off.
Maybe in a few months I’ll twist my neck around and
discover a Monarch resting there, because we have many milkweed plants along
the perimeter path.
Today I was treated to more eye candy.
That’s because today was the annual Felty Farm’s Butterfly Garden Open House which is held at Verne and Randy Felty’s home in Southgate, Michigan. They are kind-hearted souls, who use their beautiful backyard that is brimming with blooms, to enlighten visitors on pollinator friendly practices, while benefiting several local animal rescue groups.
For the small price
of a donation of some items coveted by these local animal welfare groups, such
as The River Rouge Animal Shelter, Lucky Day Animal Rescue and 4 PAWS Sake, you
can step into this butterfly haven which is tended to with a lot of hard work
and TLC by Verne and Randy Felty.
Verne Felty, the hostess
of this event, published the list of the
various needs, wants and desires by these groups recently on her Facebook
page. When I arrived at noon, the grass
and driveway were already piled high with grocery bags filled with items
tailored to each group’s needs.
Here was my
contribution – paper plates used for feeding their smallest charges, peanut
butter for Kong treats and I re-gifted my dog leash and jerky treats that I
received at the Mutt Strut 5K event back in May.
But wait a minute … for this small donation, you too, will be benefiting. Oh, it’s not just the eye candy, but you will have a warm and fuzzy feeling from helping our less-fortunate, furry and four-legged friends, and you also get three chances to win one of many raffle prizes which have been donated by various local businesses and creative folks in the Downriver area.
The last time I attended, I won a charm shaped like the Mitten State (the nickname for Michigan) that is made out of prized Petoskey stone, a rock that people in this state collect on the sandy beaches of northern Michigan. These stones are rough fossilized coral and people polish them in tumbling kits to use as paperweights, or sometimes, like here, they are fashioned into jewelry.
I did not attend last year’s event because of the extreme heat – it was in the 90s and high humidity and I had already been on a six-mile walk that morning, but my friend Ann Marie went and said it was wall-to-wall people, despite those sultry temps. At the 2017 event, (my first time), I enjoyed myself immensely. I took many pictures, then wrote a post about the yard, including the Koi fish pond, creative and artsy yard sculptures and the flowers, then sent it to Verne Felty. There was eye candy everywhere your eyes landed, and that’s not even counting the butterflies: I have a picture of a Red Admiral butterfly in that post, so here it is if you’d care to read it:
Verne Felty commented
on that post and has since contacted me to advise when subsequent events will
be held – in fact she will host two events this year, today, plus one in Fall
to witness the Monarch butterflies. As
you see in the post referenced above, this yard is a Monarch Waystation, an
area of the backyard is solely dedicated to nurturing Monarch butterflies,
because, as you may know, milkweed is the sustenance for the beautiful Monarch
butterflies.
“Christmas in July” was today’s theme at Felty Farm.
I arrived early
enough to seek out Verne Felty so I could introduce myself before she got too
busy. I wanted to meet the person whose
picture-perfect front and back yards are a showcase, and who is doing such a
wonderful and selfless deed to benefit our furry pals. I even wore my Mutt Strut tee-shirt, to show
that even though I nurture no four-legged pals at my house, I’m all in for
helping out the less fortunate furry friends.
Now for the highlights of today’s event.
Upon entering Felty Farm, you really don’t know
what to look at first – there are beautiful flowers, and a whole lot of creative
yard art here in the form of statuary, wood, but mostly metal.
There are signs to make you smile and/or nod
your head in agreement.
There are informative and cautionary signs like this one.
As I meandered along, mixing and mingling with others on the mulch paths and wooden boardwalk, I was admiring the many flowers. Even if you don’t delight in butterflies for some reason, it was a treat to see all the colorful blooms. I recognized many of them, and, according to a recent local news story about today’s event, Felty Farm’s butterfly-preferred blooms include phlox, butterfly bushes, Mexican sunflowers, Joe-Pye weed, latanas, zinnias and coneflowers. The Monarchs are treated to a trio of milkweed varieties including common, tropical and swamp milkweed.
Tucked here, there
and everywhere are a variety of angels, bikes and birdhouses …
… as well as an assortment of other yard art.
The wind chimes that
were hanging around the yard tinkled pleasantly in the very slight breeze. A beautiful pond with a waterfall and many
Koi fish was popular, as we all took in the peace and beauty of the fish
leisurely swimming and looking up at us, perhaps for handouts?
I took this picture
of the woman near the entrance of the backyard – be sure to check out her sign
which I have enlarged.
When I asked Verne
and Randy if I could take their picture, I said if it did not turn out well, I
would have to use “The Bloomers Lady” to represent Verne.
The stars of the show.
So, who would be the stars of this event? Verne and Randy? The people who attended and gave selflessly to benefit animal welfare? Maybe it was the butterflies and bees that drifted lazily around the flowers?
It was a hot and sunny
day, one where you would think many butterflies would be sipping sweet nectar
from all those flowers. I did see a
couple of Cabbage Whites and a few Monarchs as well. Surprisingly, there was just one pair of
Monarchs that flitted from flower to flower.
One admirer, who stood patiently with his camera, its long lens trained
on the colorful blooms and a solitary butterfly that kept hiding behind a leaf
in the shade, finally turned to me and said “it’s a little bit of a diva, don’t
you think?” I agreed saying “it is just
trying our patience in the hot sun to see how badly we really want to take the
photograph.” Well, we were both rewarded
with a few butterfly photos.
We lucked out to find a few bumblebees buzzing over the milkweed and coneflowers too.
As mentioned above, I
understand a special open butterfly garden event catered specifically to
Monarchs will take place at Felty Farm in September before they flit and
flutter their way to their sunny and warm Winter homes and we collectively will
hunker down, with the furnace blaring, just counting the days ‘til Summer
returns.
I know that title made you take a second look though, didn’t it?
It’s another sultry and sizzling day here in Southeast Michigan. It got to 90 degrees F (32 C). It was pretty steamy when I ventured out on my walk this morning, but I did get in five miles anyway – it’s all about that final goal of 1,242 miles (2,000 K). The days are already getting shorter as we creep toward Winter. Sadly, the sun is getting up nearly one minute later, and going to bed one minute earlier, every day since the Summer Solstice has passed.
Due to my smashed
finger debacle, I realized a couple of days ago that I never reported on my
miles at the end of June. I’ll wait and
walk my socks off some more, then report my total at the end of July instead.
The heat and humidity were unrelenting for over a week.
In my last post, I wrote about sweltering away in our heat wave here in muggy Michigan. Of course, the hot weather is a whole lot easier to take if you own a pool, or a cottage at the lake (or have dear friends whom you could visit). While other beachgoers enjoyed the cool water of Lake Michigan over the recent holiday weekend, this deer was not going to let a few humans stand in the way of him becoming a beach bum. Click here and scroll down for a smile.
Now, what about that bare/bear bum?
Monday was garbage day all along my route to Council Point Park. I rounded the bend and the first thing I saw was one humongous bare bottom looking me in the eye. Oh, by the way, I guess I should mention it was a plush bare bottom.
Butt, what a bummer (excuse the puns – I couldn’t resist)!
The garbage cans were
in the way to get a good picture (and, at one point, I even questioned why I
would take such a picture, but I had an idea for this post, so what the heck). If anyone was looking out their window, they
probably thought I’d been in the sun too long, as I carefully angled myself to
take not only the bare/bear bum shot, but a few more of this poor unloved teddy
bear that was looking so undignified, all crumpled up, arms and legs
haphazardly sticking out and flopped over onto his face, bum up in the air.
Yes, the indignity of it all!
Perhaps because I
collected teddy bears for decades, it gave me a smile, but maybe it is just a
warped sense of humor on my part too?
When the heat finally took a hike, so did I – a few extra-long ones.
We were lucky to get a three-day reprieve so Sunday through Tuesday, I racked up the miles, six miles each trek, savoring those cooler, humid-free days. I was here, there and everywhere, mostly hanging around my go-to place, Council Point Park, but strolling around the ‘hood as well. I actually took 200 plus pictures over the long holiday and this week without even leaving the City. The squirrels were back to their ol’ perky, begging selves and the Cardinal and Blue Jay each scammed a peanut while Stubby went to bury his treasure. He had a rude awakening when he returned to see how short his pile of peanuts had become while he was away.
But alas, all good things must come to an end.
We returned to
sweltering temps again today, in the 90s, and a possible storm on the way this
evening. So, this morning I sought
shade, just like my feathered and furry friends. I spent my entire walk on the shady side of
the Park. But, I had the luxury of
returning to A/C after my trek in the heat – they did not.
Interestingly, we are
quick to credit our “new norm” of erratic weather to strictly climate change, and
I have no doubt that is the reason too; just look at what is going on in
Alaska. But, for years, every time we
had a prolonged heat wave, my mom would recount the story of the big heat wave
of 1936.
I just researched a
bit and learned that the heat wave encompassed all North America from July 8th
to the 15th – in fact, the
peak of the heat (July 8th through 10th ) would have been
on the same date as I am writing this post.
The death toll in North America was over 6,000 people (780 direct and
400 indirect deaths in Canada and 5,000 in the U.S.) and large numbers of crops
were destroyed by the heat and lack of moisture.
My mom was ten years
old at the time of the heat wave and she vividly recalled how Ontario residents
wilted as the thermometer hovered at 105 to 110 F daily (40 to 43 C), only
dipping down to the mid-90s at night. She
remembered her parents speaking in hushed tones about the deaths of mostly babies,
children and older folks. She told me that
most people, her family included, had to make do with a single fan for the
entire house. My grandfather came home nightly
from working in a stifling hot factory where he made rubber boots, and he’d
have dinner, then he and most of the men in the neighborhood, who also toiled
at factory jobs, each took their pillow and a blanket down to Sunnyside Park
where they lined up to sleep on the boardwalk at the water’s edge, hoping to
catch a small breeze from Lake Ontario. Likewise,
in those days my grandmother worked in the hot, greasy Planters Peanuts
factory. During the heat wave of ’36,
she and my mom slept out on the front porch every night to get out of the
oven-hot house. The ice man would drop
off the ice for the icebox and Mom said the ice would be melting as they carried
it through the house to the kitchen.
How lucky we are, even
as we muddle through these 90+ degree days – it puts it all into perspective,
doesn’t it?
I know it’s not the best shot, but doesn’t your heart melt just a little at the sight of my furry friend, lethargic and listless, on the perimeter path? The heat and humidity – ugh, in fact … double ugh!!
When we were kids, we used this expression on hot days: “Mom: we’re
T.P.T.P.!!!”
What is “T.P.T.P.” you ask?
Why it means “too pooped to participate!”
Yes, it has been the long-awaited holiday weekend and by mid-week the
doomsayers (a/k/a the weather folks) were already predicting the Independence
Day extended holiday forecast … continued hot and steamy weather, with
afternoon thunderstorms every day as a result of the heat spikes. Heck, they even threw in possible severe
thunderstorms for a couple of the days as the proverbial cherry on top of the
melting sundae.
However, Sunday was predicted to be perfect.
So Sunday arrived. I
was up with the chickens, eager to get out to a different venue, but the 5:08 a.m.
weather forecast was for continued heat, humidity, rain and a pop-up
thunderstorm – all slated for this
morning when I would have departed. (Hmm
– what happened to clear as a bell?) So,
I’ve stayed in ‘til the highly anticipated cold front passes, so the humidity will
vanish and cooler temps will be in place … for two days anyway. This cold front was supposed to happen last
night – sigh.
We’ve had this extreme heat and iffy volatile weather for
about ten days – the meteorologists predict storms and they don’t happen, yet we’ve
had multiple pop-up rainstorms in the course of one day, or rain and rumbles
when the forecast was clear weather. It
was just oppressive stepping outdoors, in fact some heat advisories were in
place from 10:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. Friday.
The temps got to “real feels” close to 100 degrees F (38 C). Though I’ve grumbled mightily about the
brutally cold and ice-ridden Winter, then the chilly and rainy Spring, Summer’s
been no picnic either with its continued heat and humidity and buggy and muggy –
whew, I feel like I’ve been moving at the pace of a snail.
So, instead of heading out to a larger park where I could
enjoy a change of pace and view, even if it was waterlogged or soggy, I just
stuck close to home throughout the long holiday. I got my steps in, then scurried home to the
A/C to be a lady of leisure.
Or kickin’ back, propping my feet up – a few naps were necessary as the neighborhood fireworks went way past my bedtime.
On the Fourth of July, I ambled through the neighborhood to
check out the patriotic swag. I always
like this home for their year-round homespun décor.
I stopped long enough to take a few shots, then decided that I was very much unlike this sign advertising “fresh flowers” …
… yup, I was not “fresh as a daisy” … nope, I was just the opposite of this bloom (sorry I didn’t have a daisy pic).
I was feeling very wilted.
I am scrambling to do this post before the predicted thunderstorm,
lest you think I melted into a pool like the Wicked Witch of the West. I, of course, am not the only one suffering
from the heat. At my favorite stomping
grounds. Council Point Park, even the squirrels are lethargic from the heat, as
you see above. This was one of several
squirrels that were stretched out like this along the perimeter path or in the
grass. They did eventually come over for
peanuts, but were not their usual lively selves.
I trust that St. Francis, the Patron Saint of Animals and
the Environment is looking out for my furry and feathered pals as we get
through this heat wave. (He might have
his hands full though with the California earthquakes and Alaska’s uncharacteristic
heat wave.)
After today, the long holiday weekend is over, however, two days of beautiful weather are promised. Mother Nature needs a memo about her timing – anyone have the old gal’s e-mail address or Twitter handle?
… they’re gone! The geese that is. More about them later.
After an angst-ridden
ten days, give or take a day or two, I think I’m fairly caught up here on
WordPress and other social media, and things are back to normal, so I’ll take a
stab at posting my usual shtick, hopefully absent a rundown of mishaps, going
forward. I’m still typing with nine
fingers, but thanks to some TLC and a lot of prayers, I think my finger looks
much better six days after smashing it in the garage door panel. The top actually looks and feels worse than
the fingertip pad and it’s still a bit colorful looking – you might even say it
looks red, white and blue!
I had taken a slew of photos about three weeks ago and divvied them up to share in posts, then stuff happened. All the commotion and details as a result of the garage door debacle, left me fizzed and a bit frazzled and I decided that it is no fun “adulting” with little time to play. I tried not to miss any walks and for convenience sake, since I was missing the car a good chunk of the time, I did most of my steps at Council Point Park.
And, speaking of my
favorite nature nook, the past week or so has been a little like “Dullsville” –
the heat has caused everyone to lose their pep and stay up in their respective
trees. Today, I even took Nutter Butters
as a treat for the holiday for my furry pals, but only three squirrels timidly
ventured down to ground level, so I just gave them peanuts only. I’ll save their cookies for cooler weather. I didn’t see Parker the last few days and am
a little worried about him – perhaps he just strayed to the ‘hood where the
pickin’s might be better since none of the berry bushes at the Park are ripe
yet. A few squirrels were laying sprawled
out beneath a tree, or on the pathway, their fuzzy tails stretched out behind
them and four legs akimbo. I’ve seen them
do this before when it is hot and humid like it was today. We are expecting a storm early evening so I’m
trying to get this post done before it arrives.
It’s not only the
squirrels MIA, but the Cardinals and Red-Winged Blackbirds weren’t popping down
to the pathway either. Harry the Heron
has been missing for over a month and there was nary a swan, nor even a mallard,
as I meandered along.
The only news of note
came from the Creek where the carp are chasing one another out of the water and
doing belly flops on the surface. I
couldn’t see them as the bushes are all leafed out, but I know the origin of
the big splashes. Happily, I finally
heard Jeremiah, the big ol’ bullfrog that sounds off all Summer as I walk along
the perimeter path. That’s good news as
I thought he might have been a goner after our brutal Winter.
While I miss the “regulars” along the walking path, the most noticeable absence lately is the Canada geese, whether they are ambling across the pathway, or gathering at the swimmin’ hole.
Who can resist this side-eye of the gander while his mate does the neck arch when they are perturbed by passersby ogling them?
Or the steely gaze I got for intruding on their respite at the cement landing where you see how the water sloshes over the top?
Bye, bye … gotta fly (or maybe not?)
Though the goslings aren’t ready to fledge, the geese and their offspring left Council Point Park this past week. They’ve not been around for a week now, and, though their presence is missed, it sure was easier to walk on the perimeter path without stepping around fresh goose poop!
Every June and July the adult Canada geese moult. They
begin to lose their flight feathers in May – these photos show just a few of
their large feathers I have seen sticking out of the grass the past couple of
weeks, so I knew it was just a matter of time before they departed. It
has been that way every year since I began walking at this venue in 2013.
So, during this time, the geese must find a safe haven away
from land predators while they cannot fly and this safe haven will be a body of
water. The geese families have evidently taken a water route to a place
where they are safe since the goslings were not equipped to fly yet.
Additionally, this may surprise you, but Council Point Park, just like many other parks or golf courses, do not necessarily embrace the ambiance of the Canada geese during the Summer months. There are soccer fields, baseball diamonds, inline skating, a playground and picnicking at the pavilion area … and don’t forget the walking path. The geese sometimes act like they own the turf and get quite antagonistic toward anyone who gets in their way. So, once the geese and their little families have left, the rest of the Summer the Park grass is sprayed with a non-toxic grape seed concentrate. Even when the geese are able to fly again, they’ll descend onto the grass, but they don’t like the taste of it, so they go elsewhere to graze. By the way, this is all approved by the Department of Natural Resources. The goose repellent contains methyl anthranilate, a chemical that is found naturally in grape juice and gives grape bubblegum its flavor. Come September, when the kids are back in school and the days are getting shorter, the spraying will cease and the geese will be welcomed back to graze as much as they want. By then we won’t be able to tell the parents from their offspring! There are Canada geese at larger parks where they have access to graze from the shoreline, though with all the lakeshore flooding that Michigan has right now, hopefully they will be okay during their transition period.
This is just a short
post to share my latest ordeal.
Last Saturday morning when the garage door spring did its thing, I knew right away that this was just the beginning of a hectic week, i.e. dealing with the car repair, the new garage door install … all hassles, not to mention the expense involved. The car did NOT need a new paint job – they buffed out the gouge and returned it to its former glory … my car is 10 years old, but only has 6,200 miles on it – it’s just a baby!
I wanted to put the
car in the garage yesterday after the car repair shop returned it – it was
lookin’ good, they even washed it. I was
praising up Leo, after he had me check out the car, and then chatting it up
with Jim, the handyman, who was up on the roof, while he was cleaning gutters
and power washing the house with mildew remover (yes, I had a mildew problem on
the bricks due to too much rain and lack of sun).
I was hot, as it was
already almost 90 degrees F (32 C).
I have always opened/shut
the garage door by pulling it up/down between the door panels. I’ve been doing that for about 40 years, give
or take a year. I am tall, so I never
used the “grab rope” nor the handle – don’t ask me why? When the installer had me try the door
Tuesday afternoon, he watched me pull down the garage door and said “don’t do
that, you’ll pinch your fingers!” I had
no reason to go out into the garage until yesterday, Well it was hot, and I forgot and did what I
always do and jammed my right-hand ring finger between the panels which have no
gap in between, like the old panels. I
let out a scream that would wake the dead (and said bad words – again). It’s a wonder Jim did not fall off the
roof! I don’t think I broke my finger,
but it is swollen badly and black and blue and purple.
I am going to try for that “me day” tomorrow – today is our Downriver Classic Car Cruise event and the local streets are jammed so I stuck close to home and I DID NOT go near the garage.
As the saying goes “I
have no words”… but in this case, maybe I should say I have fewer words than
usual as it is difficult to type. I am
going to work today as my boss told me to take the rest of yesterday off to ice
my finger and we’ll get the work done so we both have a longer July 4th
holiday. I’m going to limit my time at
the keyboard until I can type better, so bear with me as I will be a bit behind
here at WordPress.
P.S. – These pictures don’t do the colors in my finger justice – it is much more colorful than that but I still don’t think it is broken (crossing my fingers anyway – oops that hurt!!)
There is an expression that goes like this: “The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” Here is the origin of that saying:
Though I am mindful
that severe weather has plagued so many parts of the U.S. lately, while we have
merely endured constant gray days, rain and lack of sunshine, the ugly weather
had me in a bit of a funk. So, when the
weatherman crowed about two weekend days of gorgeous weather, I was pretty
happy. In fact, I was like a kid in a
candy shop – two days of exploring and getting out to enjoy what finally would
be perfect Summer weather. So, do I go
to a new park, or one of my old standbys?
But then I remembered I could not be too joyous, as I still had to
tackle the front and back yards which, thanks to all the rainy days, look overgrown
and unloved. So, I made a compromise … I’d visit some of my
favorite parks and just enjoy today and plan on doing yard work tomorrow. Today would be the reward for a long week at
work, last weekend’s rain-soaked days … yes it all sounded wonderful.
The rain has been a
pain in many ways … not just hampering my walking regimen with torrential or
stormy weather, but there has been a mosquito
and tick explosion and we’ve already had several instances of West Nile Virus
from infected mosquitoes. So, I donned a
long-sleeved shirt and long pants with socks, and, because we have had so much
rain, some of my favorite parks are waterlogged, so it was a perfect chance to
try out my new red vinyl boots.
I got myself ready and sauntered out the door. I admit I had tunnel vision as I sidestepped
all those bushes that tried to reach out and grab me on the leg, their new
growth shooting toward the sky, much the same way as those fancy fireworks that
will wow the crowds at the annual Ford Fireworks on the Detroit River this
coming Monday night. And, don’t think I
didn’t notice the weeds too, their leggy stems threatening to overtake all the
existing bushes or the dainty weeds with wispy tendrils which were wrapped around
some of the new growth. But, just like
Scarlett O’Hara, I dismissed those pesky weeds with a wave of my hand,
declaring “I’ll think about that tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.”
Taking some “me time” …
I’ve long believed there are not enough days in the year to just escape and get away from it all. I know that sometimes, by the end of the workweek, my mind is really cluttered and ready for a reboot, because, despite my daily forays to my favorite nature nook at Council Point Park, sometimes I still feel the need to clear out those tangled recesses of my mind, which coincidentally resemble those out-of-control perennials growing wild in the backyard.
I know if I don’t get out and stretch my legs and give my mind a rest, I’ll go buggy.
Or smother from everything … you have to rise above it all, like this rose, fighting its way through the weeds and dead wood, the only bloom on all my rosebushes … now that’s tenacity.
This last week in
particular was a toughie. My eyes were
fuzzy from working on way too many charts – yikes!
I was beginning to despair of the same-old, same-old …
You know how you get into a rut and don’t know
where to turn – it’s like you’re up against a wall.
So I intended to turn
my back on it all …
… and escape to some
wide-open places to put a smile on my face again.
Because balance is important – you don’t want to become mired in muck and be off-kilter.
I longed for a nice leisurely
stroll by the water and to relax with the sun on my back.
That is why we have weekends, precious hours of “me time” where each minute is ours to savor and enjoy, much like this little squirrel who is smiling after a new walker shook out some cocktail peanuts from a bottle onto the pathway for him. Easy-peasy eats!
Hmm, he never gave me or my jumbo, salt-free, roasted peanuts a second glance, because he decided to grab that treat instead – no, I didn’t take it personally. In fact, I saw cocktail peanuts strewn all along the perimeter path and pavilion area.
The squirrels will likely eat this newbie walker/kind-hearted soul out of house and home. 🙂
The back-story … because, as you know there is always a back-story.
As most of you know, I work from home from the kitchen table. Friday afternoon I heard a very loud noise – it had been fairly quiet for once, for which I was glad, since I was working on charts with lots of numbers. The fridge wasn’t running, and the A/C was off … blessed quiet. Until this banging noise. I sprang into action to find out what happened.
First I ran downstairs because many years ago a portion of the dropped ceiling fell down a day after a furnace installer hit it with some equipment. It collapsed, metal supports and all, and made a terrific clatter as it landed in a heap on the laundry room floor. Whew – nothing wrong downstairs.
I ran outside and
checked the gutters to ensure one had not broken off because they are filled
with these guys …
… and will soon be
cleaned out.
I was worried about the gutters, because when I came home from walking the other day, a dove peered at me over the top of the gutter. It likely was ready to take a bath. I felt the urge to mutter “well, excu-u-se me!” an old Steve Martin catchphrase. The dove gave me a look like I was intruding on its bath time ritual. Doves are not lightweights, so I was relieved the gutters were still intact.
The awning was okay too,
so nothing seemed out of place and I went back into the house.
But that loud noise
niggled at my already-taxed brain.
Our energy provider
has been marking houses on the block with yellow flags and yellow spray paint. I heard the trucks out on the street during
the day, but never closed enough for me to poke my head out the door and yell “hey,
what’s up?” So I called DTE to see if
there was a problem – nope, just routine
maintenance.
I kept sleuthing, and
even checked the Facebook Crime Forum for our City – no one complained of an
explosion at the nearby BASF Chemical Plant.
So I resigned myself that nothing was wrong and returned to my charts.
Fast forward to this morning … I went out to the garage, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, eager to take on the day.
As I do every day, I
turned the key in the garage door lock and proceeded to twist the handle to
open the door, but the door wouldn’t open.
I tried a second time –
nothing happened.
I walked away from it for
a minute, took a deep breath, and then, yes indeed, I was dumb enough to try a
third time, which I put down to wishful thinking.
I said bad words, not
that it helped much. Believe me, my
brain wasn’t all that fuzzy that I couldn’t connect the dots that something
happened inside the garage that caused the door to be jammed shut … yes, my own
personal big bang theory.
I marched into the house and grabbed the phone directory for the door company, whom we have used in the past. Thankfully there was a sign of life on the other end of the phone, a woman who was quite chipper on this early morn. She did not match my surly mood. I explained the dilemma and before I could elaborate about the loud noise, she said “no worries – a screw flew off and the suspension came down – I’ll send someone out this afternoon.” I said “did it collapse onto my car – I heard a loud banging noise!” She responded by saying that it happens sometimes and the tech can fix it after 2:00 p.m. today. I thanked her and realized my day was pretty well trashed at that point.
I walked down to
Council Point Park where I completed just one loop because I was distracted and
“what if he got there earlier and I
could still salvage my day?”
Boing! It was not just a little screw that popped off.
The tech, named Joe, arrived and I explained what happened this morning and the noise yesterday and said “there must be a correlation, right?” He said “let’s get this door up first and I can tell you better.” Well he struggled mightily to lift the door, pushing it, prodding it and finally hefting it up without the benefit of the spring which he pointed out was laying in the corner. He looked around, up and down, then said “here was your noise.” He explained that the spring slipped off the cable, shot up to the ceiling, as evidenced by black marks the shape of the spring, and then like a slingshot, on the return trip it aimed straight for my car and bounced over and hit the door before coming to rest in the corner. I felt a little sick as I surveyed the damage to the car. The spring, which had some rust on it, clipped the car’s left rear area, just above the tail light. I say “clipped” but there are gouges that match the shape of the spring imprinted into the clear coat and some of the paint. It must’ve been my horror-stricken face that made Joe take the front of his tee-shirt and try to buff out the marks. Then he turned to me and said “it could have been you, you know, instead of the car.” He had brought a new spring and said he could replace it right away and the garage door would be okay to use. But, he cautioned me that they no longer sell garage doors with this spring mechanism since they are deemed unsafe and he urged me to consider getting a new door at some point down the road before the springs are no longer available. He also showed me where the metal cable was frayed. I ordered a new door … it will be installed the beginning of next week.
So, that was my day …
not a day of joy tripping along the Lake Erie shoreline, or the boardwalk by
the Detroit River chatting with the fisherman about their “catch of the day”
but instead, I am licking my wounds about my damaged car and replacing the
garage door. Neither the “fix” nor this
purchase are going to give me any great joy, no more than spending tomorrow
wrangling weeds and taming bushes.
I’ll sleep on it
whether I indulge myself and go out anyway or stay home and tame the beast, er …
the yard.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 