Once again I fell under the spell of the weather forecasters,
taking their respective forecasts as gospel, and planning my weekend activities
around the snow and slush predictions.
But, in my defense, it was not just one weatherman, but several, as well
as the National Weather Service for Detroit – they ALL predicted an inch or two
of slushy snow for this morning and melting around noon. Why wouldn’t I think that would occur? After all, the Tigers/White Sox baseball game
was cancelled yesterday due to heavy snow in Chicago.
So, I decided to live dangerously and forego setting my alarm, figuring I would opt for an afternoon walk instead. I awoke at 8:00 a.m., put the radio news on and climbed back into bed, listening out of one ear to hear just how many inches of snow we got. Neither the newscast, traffic report nor the weather report mentioned snow, so I assumed correctly that it never arrived. I shot out of bed, ran to the front window and it was a bright-and-sunny, snow-free morn! I had breakfast and figured I’d best get on the road soon to get a long walk in and this blog post written.
My first stop was at Council Point Park.
I was later than usual and my furry friends usually don’t let me forget my tardiness. I was halfway around the first loop before the first squirrel ventured out – c’mon guys, cut me some slack already! Even Parker wasn’t his usual cheerful self.
I only went around one loop (one mile) as I wanted to try out a park in Dearborn and it is a five-mile-long trail. I was indeed mindful of all the rain we got the past few days and last night it was pouring hard when I went to bed. I’ve been reluctant to try any new parks with this incessant rain as I’m not a big fan of walking on muddy trails, but I decided to give it a go anyway.
Next up was Ford Field Park in Dearborn, Michigan.
I’d
never visited this park before, despite the fact that I thought I was familiar with
the Dearborn area, having attended Henry Ford Community College in the 70s,
but, after consulting a map before I left, I discovered it was just two miles
away from that school.
Here was my initial look at Ford Field Park when stepping
out of the car. I was treated to a view
of the willow trees that grace the banks of the Rouge River.
I decided to start my trek across this wooden footbridge …
… that crosses the Rouge River, where the water was gurgling and churning fast and furiously.
I crossed that footbridge and there was a fork in the road – hmm, do I go left or right?
To the right I saw two young guys walking toward me, so I called out and asked if it was muddy on the trail? “Yes, very” was the answer, so the left was the way to go in my opinion.
Quickly I realized this route wasn’t much better, judging
from the soggy and waterlogged trail.
I hopped, stepped and jumped around the muddy grass and gravel, but ahead looked much more promising, so I slogged away toward a drier, gravel path.
I always enjoy crossing and taking photos of covered
bridges. I knew there were two in Ford Field
Park – this is the first one.
I heard cheeps and chirps from the bridge’s high ceiling and
looked for swallows or nests, but saw none, so these birds were likely hiding in
the rafters.
I am sure I bypassed the best portion of this five-mile trail by choosing the path to the left, but I went on anyway.
There was a little pond and the sun was shining down on a pair of mallards that snoozed away, seemingly not mindful of the twigs that crunched beneath my heavy walking shoes as I approached them.
Nearby, a Pekin duck and a pair of Hybrid Mallards also napped, although the Pekin duck peeked at me to ensure I was keeping my distance and did not pose a threat to the trio’s morning snooze. (Just wondering … would this be a peekin’ Pekin?)
Obviously their radar was up, because, as I approached them, they awoke and swam away, with the Mallard Hybrid casting a sideways glance my way for interrupting their nap.
There was another covered bridge which you see pictured up top, and I trekked across it, then meandered around a little more. The water was moving quickly here too as you can see in this photo.
I saw this male robin and it was singing such a beautiful birdsong. He stopped to catch his breath, so I whistled at him. He looked around, perhaps eager for a friend, or a mate, then discovered it was just me; he looked disgruntled and lost interest in singing and flew away.
All too soon I was back at the wooden footbridge, so I
decided to just head back to the car. I
knew I had not gone too many miles and glanced at the pedometer, and I had only
walked about four miles. I am lagging
behind in my miles due to our soggy Spring, so I just walked around the length
of the dry and boring, paved parking lot to get a few more miles under my belt.
You’ll notice that very few trees were out in this park – the willows were not totally leafed out yet either, however, driving home from Dearborn, it was a beautiful sight. There are many trees in this city, and a canopy of green welcomed me as I traveled down Outer Drive. The magnolias and flowering trees are now all in bloom and a blue sky made it a picture-perfect day. I will return to this park when it is not soggy and check out the trail.
A couple of days ago, I looked at
the sunny side of life, a/k/a Spring, wherein I extolled the virtues of this
season where we, in a four-season state, wait breathlessly for Mother Nature to
toss us a bone to reinvigorate our Winter-weary souls.
Flowers are fleeting, because if the rain keeps pelting down on them, the petals will be dilapidated. The inch of slushy snow that will grace our region tomorrow night (more in the northern ‘burbs and mid-state) and the accompanying chilly temps, just might be enough to knock those magnolia buds right off the branches.
The rain is a pain and look what’s ahead:
Yes, raining cats and dogs most of the time this upcoming week!
This weather gives me “the willies”.
While Mother Nature is tormenting
us with this incessant bad weather, it is more than just these torrential rains
tampering with my walking regimen – the rain is bringing forth all the creepy
crawlies.
Last weekend I turned on the hall
light in the early morning to see a huge brown spider skittering along the
ceiling. For some people, their response
is to simply climb on a stepstool with a Kleenex in hand (if they’re brave), or
a paper towel (if they’re on the squeamish side or their aim is bad). My mother would grab her mop to knock a
spider or centipede down from the ceiling, but often she was not quick enough
to squash them on the floor, and, if they landed on the carpet, chances of
mashing them to a pulp were slim to none.
Then they’d be “at large” and that is even worse. I have always worried that taking a mop or long-handled
duster might flip a creepy crawly into my face, or it would land on my hair and
I’d likely succumb on the spot.
So that particular spider made a
cocoon in the hall, seemingly a perfect chance for me to ambush it while it was
relaxing. But no, I thought it might
stay up there forever. Of course the
next morning it was gone.
That spider, (at least I assume
it was the same one), next appeared in the kitchen two days later. I turned the light on in the morning, and it
was sitting in the curtain over the sink grinning at me. I let out a little scream and jumped back, so
my sudden movement caused it to run down the backsplash and behind the toaster
and it didn’t come out again. I guess
that’s a snuggly little spot, under the toaster cover. Right then I made up my mind that I’d never
make toast ever again, until I saw its lifeless body.
As you know, I work from home and
my work station is right at the kitchen table, so that day I spent some
angst-filled moments wondering if it might join me over here. My eyes kept glancing over to the counter
area wondering if it was similarly sneaking a peek at me?
The more rain we have, the more
creepy crawlies. This morning a spider
was on the bedroom ceiling and I can only hope this is the same spider
traveling around the house. This time I
just KNEW it had to be dealt with. In
the bedroom, well that’s just a big no-no.
Mustering all the bravado that I could, I ran down the hall, grabbed the
long-handled duster and unrolled half of the roll of paper towels to attack
this beast. Heart pumping, adrenalin
flowing, I ran back into the bedroom only to find it gone. OMG!
At large in the bedroom! Hastily, since the long-duster duster was
handy, I coated it with peppermint oil and swabbed here, there and everywhere all
around the house, hoping that scent would cause it to return outside. Now it smells like Starlight Mints all around
the house.
It seems the little ants have shown up as well. I can deal with them, though I don’t like having them around. I’ve seen about ten so far and put out two low saucers of cornmeal and left a drip at the kitchen sink tap so they can promptly eat, drink and instead of being merry, they’ll explode when the cornmeal plumps up once the water reaches it. Yes, even me, the nature lover, would be okay with this happening.
Back in the Summer of 2017, I decided to get whole-house insulation. I was tired of kitchen cabinets that were freezing all Winter and sweltering hot all Summer. I researched to determine the best type of insulation and decided on a company that uses two kinds of products, and tailors it to different areas of the home. When the salesman came to the house, I was already sold on the idea of getting insulation, but I let him do his spiel anyway. At the very end, he said “and I have an added bonus that will make you very happy – I assume you’re like most women and hate bugs, right?” [Well, that was a sexist comment, as fellow blogger Laurie loves bugs.] I emphatically responded “yes – I’m scared to death of centipedes and spiders and consider them the bane of my existence!” He laughed, then told me the cellulose insulation had special properties that were a natural bug repellent and I’d never see another bug in the house again. “So where do I sign?” I asked.
Well, that big job was done in
early June 2017, and, not only did I have a colossal mess which took me every
weekend in June and July to clean up, but I’ve had more creepy crawlies than
ever before, including this creature that I found on my bar of gelatin hand soap
in the bathroom last Spring. I almost
had a heart attack when I saw it, but still had the presence of mind to
photograph it in case it became the subject of a blog post one day. (Yup, pretty shameful on part.)
There he was, this big bugger stationed on my soap dish. This was a glycerin soap, and it was messy and broke apart in the dish, but he liked it fine.
I studied
this creature, then steeled myself with a wad of paper towel clutched in my now-sweaty
palm, but I could not squash that THING to save my life. Even seeing the photo now just makes me
shudder. So instead, I grabbed a
plastic bowl from the kitchen and covered the entire soap dish. I figured the bowl would suffocate that centipede
and I’d dispose of it the next day.
There is the eloquent pheasant under glass and then there is tacky centipede under bowl.
I pushed it to the far corner of
the vanity out of my sight (but not out of my mind). I even weighted down the bowl with a ceramic
soap dish. That centipede lingered not
only a day or two, but weeks. I’d turn the
light on in the bathroom and it would scurry around the rim of the bowl like a
race horse around the track oval. I
wondered if this was to taunt me?
The wily centipede is under the bowl and secured by a ceramic dish. I was not taking any chances of it escaping.
Finally it died and I scooped the
entire contraption into a garbage bag and ran it outside as soon as possible,
lest it was playing possum.
I absolutely hate that this
towering human is reduced to hyperventilation by the mere appearance of a
critter with multiple legs, that runs faster than she does, but it is what it
is.
I hope the weather improves, and no more torrential rain, just the garden-variety type of rain, so I can (maybe) venture out in my new waterproof walking shoes and walk with the worms.
My favorite season is Fall, with Spring coming in a close
second. I love the Autumn colors and
decor, the return of “pumpkin everything” and even that wee nip in
the air necessitating adding extra clothing.
However, for me, Autumn is also the harbinger of things to come, namely
Winter which I despise.
Spring, on the other hand, brings its pastel palette. I love to watch the “real Spring”
unfold as the neighborhood comes alive in an awesome display of flowers. Here is an array of some of Mother Nature’s
eye candy I enjoyed while walking home from the Park on Easter Monday. Most of the flowering trees are out, except
the magnolias and the neighborhood tree leaves have yet to unfurl as of this
morning.
These purple Hyacinths were bending down to touch the earth.
The pink petals of this Hyacinth were splashed with caked-on mud from all the rain we got last week.
A paler version of the rainbow of colors of other Hyacinths, these still looked pretty and perky.
Nothing says “hello Spring” like Daffodils, their heads bobbing in the breeze.
These tulips are still closed tightly – no tiptoeing through them just yet.
These Magnolia tree blossoms were still closed, but this morning they were just starting to open. I hope our chilly weekend weather won’t cause them to wilt and wither on the branches.
I admire this Weeping Cherry tree every Spring.
These Pansies create a riot of color beneath that beautiful flowering tree.
Pale purple Pansies, like me, turn their faces toward the sun.
Do you recognize this bright-yellow wildflower? (Hint: it’s an ace-in-the-hole for bees.)
That Dandelion was one of many clustered at the curb at Memorial Park. Did you know before the 20th century Dandelions were coveted and grass was weeded out to make room for them to thrive?
These healthy-looking weeds were growing in a sidewalk crack amongst the tree “dander”.
Stunning Azalea.
Shoots of Hostas. Once they sprout, the growth spurts are amazing, almost like time-lapse photography. Maybe not great looking now, but gettin’ there.
Spring continues to load slowly, but I believe we have finally progressed to more than just an entry on the calendar. Why? Because a little birdie told me so!
This songbird was surveying its “kingdom” and studying me intensely!
Yup, I know you thought I was going to say roses, because,
after all, it is Earth Day.
Or probably, you were wondering if you had to wade through another post about my furry friends, because, I know, sometimes those squirrels noshin’ on nuts all run together after a while.
But, actually this IS another squirrel post. It is about Yours Truly, who is just a tad
squirrelly.
Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t!
Yesterday, in my 1,300th blog post, I wrote about my friend Ann Marie dropping off a bag of Easter goodies for me on her way to church. She both texted and e-mailed me around 7:00 a.m. to tell me she’d been by. Before I left for my walk, I retrieved my goody bag which was two pretty dyed eggs and (what I believed) was a gold, foil-wrapped, lop-eared bunny. I admired that “bunny” and set it on a shelf on the corner cabinet in the kitchen to eat later. I-emailed Ann Marie and thanked her for being so thoughtful and dropping off dyed eggs and a chocolate bunny.
So, that was my first faux pas of the day and later I even
mentioned this kindness in my blog post, thus,
the second faux pas. Ann Marie has
been following my blog for years, but she didn’t see this particular post as
she always comments on them. However, she
sent me an e-mail late last night to tell me it was not a bunny, but a
squirrel. Of course she bought this
treat knowing how much I love squirrels.
You know how squirrels love nuts?
Well, if you’ve ever had Ferrero Rocher treats, they are milk chocolate
and hazelnut pieces that melt in your mouth, truly a tasty treat. I used to buy them for my mom, then I’d
insist on helping her eat them.
Red-faced, I texted Ann Marie to apologize for being so
squirrelly – she replied “you’re not squirrelly!” (I beg to differ with that sometimes.)
All I can say is that if anyone should know what a squirrel
looks like, wouldn’t it be me? If I had
a dollar for every image of a squirrel I’ve posted in this blog since 2013 –
well, let’s just say, I’d be a rich woman.
But instead I am a rich woman, for having a good friend who
will forgive this faux pas.
[The image of the Ferrero
Rocher Easter Squirrel is from Pinterest.]
Finally, after eight days of rain, Easter Sunday dawned, just as it should, with bright sunshine. I was chomping at the bit to bop down the bunny trail at my favorite Park.
But first, treats awaited me …
Before I left, I hopped online to send an Easter greeting to everybunny and discovered a text from my good friend Ann Marie. She had dropped off an eggstra-special treat for me at 7:08 a.m. This is the second Sunday in a row Ann Marie has stopped at my house in the early morn. Last Sunday it was birthday cupcakes. Today I discovered dyed eggs sitting in a bed of Easter grass in a bag bearing a bunny picture that Ann Marie had drawn. I also got a big chocolate bunny which will be my treat tonight. I feel very spoiled and special and I’m thanking my friend once again in this post.
It was great to be back at my favorite nature nook …
I arrived at Council Point
Park, the first time I had walked there in over a week. I drove down one morning and before I got out
of the car, big splats of rain landed on the windshield and a fine drizzle
began, so I headed for home.
I was amazed how lush and green the grass had become over
the course of the week – well, three days of intense rain helped out in that
regard. The Park had a green glow as
leaves appeared ready to unfurl, giving the bare trees just a smidge of
color.
So, what did I find along the bunny trail, er … walking path
this morning?
Blue sky, a butterfly, birds and buds …
As I set out this morning, I told myself that whatever images I saw today would remain on the camera’s memory card for a few days until I got caught up, not only with everyone’s posts here on WordPress, but on other social media sites as well.
However, as I walked, the sun streaming down, feeling the
warm air, I couldn’t help myself … I was snapping pics here, there and
everywhere and knew I wanted to share them today.
One measly cloud marred a perfect blue sky. I couldn’t believe my eyes when a Red Admiral butterfly flitted over to this tree. It’s only April and yesterday our high temp was 40 degrees F (4 C)!This beautiful male Northern Cardinal spied me as I doled out peanuts to the squirrels. He wanted to sneak down to snatch a peanut, so he checked if the coast was clear to the left …… then to the right.Then he studied me … did I pose a threat?I guess I passed muster as he swooped down to grab a peanut from the path.The Red-Winged Blackbird was pretty vocal this morning, trilling his sweet notes as I walked along the trail.Soon this fellow announced his desire to grab a peanut and everyone else should stay out of his way while he did so! Check out that sharp beak! These bright-green buds looked equally as vibrant as that blue sky.These buds are all standing at attention, but it will be a while until they open.These are maple seeds, future maple trees.In this part of the Park, the maple leaves have begun to unfurl.
Since no trek to Council Point Park is complete without squirrel shots …
I sure would have enjoyed tacking on a few more miles, but I
didn’t want to overdo it, since I only walked twice this week, just minimal
amounts in the neighborhood. By the time
I arrived at the last loop, my furry and feathered pals were MIA. Unbelievably, not a single squirrel came to
greet me, most likely having returned to their respective nests to spend Easter
with their family.
Way high up in the trees, this nest provided shelter for a squirrel family during our recent brutal Winter and for the chilly and rainy Spring we’ve endured thus far.
I know they enjoyed their peanuts, just look at the faces on these munchkins while they’re munching their peanuts. They look as happy and content as we did when we enjoyed our Easter meal, don’t they?
Despite Midnight’s shy disposition, he popped by for a few peanuts. That is him up top having two helpings of peanuts at the same time. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Midnight was glad he stopped by for a visit.Parker could hardly contain his enthusiasm for this large peanut – open wide!I think I detect a wee smile, don’t you?Savvy Parker knows the need to stash some peanuts away for a rainy day.Parker is still fat and sassy and not bikini-ready yet. Peanuts are like Lay’s potato chips: “Betcha can’t eat just one!”
I, too, was content, happy to enjoy this Easter Sunday
stroll.
I saw this image with its quotation when Earth Day 2018 was trending on Twitter. I tucked it away to use for Earth Day 2019. Escaping to Council Point Park, my favorite nature nook, is not only a joy for me, but a necessity. Immersing myself in nature helps keep me grounded. I hope this Park, as well as the others that I enjoy and spotlight in this blog, will be around for me, as well as others, to enjoy for many years to come. My walking regimen was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself and writing about those treks has been equally enjoyable. My blog is a labor of love and I am pleased so many of you take the same delight in nature as I do.
As I celebrate Mother Earth, I’d like to share my favorite nature photos with you.
Enjoy!!
P.S. – I thought Earth Day was always the 3rd Saturday in April. I prepared this post yesterday and twice this morning I heard about Earth Day events for Monday, April 22nd. I figured they were wrong … I jumped on here to check and it turns out I was wrong!
I’m a little disappointed in Mother Nature these days. I think she is rather bullheaded, as she forges forward with day after day of dismal and dreary weather. Today was a washout – an inch of rain, and tomorrow is looking rather ugly as well. Your roving reporter just sucked it up and stayed in bed later this morning, while listening to the birds on the back windowsill cheeping away, grateful for a safe haven. I was grateful they were grateful, even though they began murmuring around 5:30 a.m. I’m always happy to accommodate my fine-feathered friends. 🙂
I have no wit or wisdom to impart today as my brain may be moldy from all this rain. But, as I pondered this recent weather, while wrapping my hands around my steaming mug of joe this morning, I developed a theory about ol’ Ma Nature. It goes like this: I think the old gal has worn all her primary color crayons to a stub. (Either that or they all rolled under the bed or disappeared into the couch cushions.)
I think Mother Nature then hopped on Amazon and ordered these crayons:
I am tempted to quip that Mother Nature has left me high and dry as to my walking regimen, but that would a misnomer, wouldn’t it? After all, that’s what umbrellas were invented for.
I’m still trying to embrace the walking-in-the-rain concept, but I’m not quite there yet. On a positive note, since I gleaned an extra hour not walking, I spent that time researching, then ordering some waterproof walking shoes and writing this post. Woo hoo! The worms and I can have a good ol’ time together.
On the heels of the robin debacle yesterday, I sure wasn’t
looking forward to seeing what progress my fractious feathered friend(s) made
in the past 24 hours, so I procrastinated going to the front door this morning.
As has been my morning routine for about the last four or
five months, along with checking out the weather before I go outside, I also
spread peanuts on the porch for my furry and feathered friends. As you know, that
ritual all began with tossing out a couple of peanuts to one critter, that cute
gray squirrel I named “Grady” way back in the Fall. Now the “breakfast club” that convenes on the
porch includes a fox squirrel, black squirrels, jays and cardinals.
I steeled myself for the mischief as I walked down the hall …
I opened the door, the bag of peanuts at the ready. Right away I couldn’t help but notice a long and
skinny strip of blue cellophane dangling at eye level and blowing gently in the
breeze. I looked up to discover half of
the coach light elbow was filled with a collection of twigs, brush and long strands
of dead grass. There were even some
pieces of newspaper balancing atop of the nest fixin’s and some of that debris
had landed on the mailbox lid.
While shaking my head, I spread some peanuts onto the porch and resolved to nip this nest-building venture in the bud before it was too late, i.e. blue eggs, hatchlings and chicks, the likes of these:
I ran around collecting a few supplies as I decided to do
this quick-and-dirty job from the door stoop rather than pulling the car out of
the garage and dragging out the ladder, thus missing my walk.
However, in my haste to pull down this nest in progress, I made
a faux pas … I forgot to be mindful of the porch pals. When I opened the storm door to poke the nest
materials into the garden with a sturdy piece of cardboard, four squirrels
scattered to the wind, then quickly regrouped at the base of the steps with a reproachful
look that said “you scared us – we were eating peanuts!”
I took two flimsy grocery store bags, filled them with more store
bags, then poufed them to fit into the elbow and on top of the light, all the
while muttering that I wasn’t running a nursery here. Finished, I took a look – well, it was no candidate
for “House Beautiful” but I crossed my fingers it would do the trick.
A whole lotta of cheeping and chattering going on.
I stayed at the door a few minutes. I had that uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched – the squirrels with their unblinking gazes, still circled around the steps and the male cardinal cruised on by, as did the blue jay. The blue jay screeched, an obvious attempt at getting me to close the door so this tall human was not looming through the glass, or hovering near those peanuts, so they could be snapped up and enjoyed. Hmm – so what about this sass coming from my little menagerie?
And then there was the robin sitting in my neighbor’s tree, most likely the primary builder of the home for his missus. It didn’t take long for that bird to discover its handiwork was gone. I could see the scowl and hear the chattering through the storm door glass. While he had visions of “Home Sweet Home” I pictured the coach light crashing down with the weight of a couple of worm-filled robins nearly ready to fledge like this pair.
I was tempted to run and grab the camera to capture the moment for this post, but instead I tossed out some more peanuts, a little peace offering to the pouting porch pals for their inconvenience. I felt a little guilty. After all, I enjoyed monitoring the neighborhood and Park robins and their offspring, then sharing those photos in my blog posts in the Spring of 2018. I know it is all about location, location, location – just as the ads state, but, I just couldn’t have them setting up house there … anywhere else I’d have been agreeable to. After all, who doesn’t want to witness the miracle of life before their very eyes?
Perhaps I’ve tarnished my crown of nature lover just a little?
Easter Sunday is almost here, though it’s hard to imagine
little kids crawling around on the soggy ground searching for eggs or candy
treasures in their Sunday finest. It is
still very chilly and rainy here in Southeast Michigan, but, at least the lawns
are as green as cellophane Easter grass.
Linda and the Lenten Season.
Soon the Lenten season will end – did you follow through and abstain from what you promised to give up for forty days?
This year I have failed miserably and I must say it is the first
and only time I did not follow through with my abstention intention like I
have for decades and I am not pleased with myself at all.
Beginning when I was a little girl, my mom and I always gave up sweets for Lent. My father did not give up sweets, so Mom still baked, but we just abstained from eating any sweets. I think most people give up food for the Lenten period, making sure they load up on carbs, sweets or treats on Fat Tuesday. It was tough sometimes through the years, as either my mom’s birthday, or mine, would fall within that forty-day period, so birthday cake and ice cream just had to wait until Lent was over.
After my mom passed away in early 2010, I continued with the
abstention from sweets during Lent, only I kicked it up a notch. In 2010, I decided to give up sweets forever. That seemed doable since I’m no baker, thus I
wasn’t smelling baked goods that would lure me like a magnet to brownies,
cookies or cake. I never got to eat much
candy as a kid, so I never had a sweet tooth for chocolate bars or hard candy
and I had to give up gum when I had braces on my teeth in my early 20s, thus I
could live without gum as well. So, I
was off and running on this no-sweets-or-treats regimen. I permitted myself very few indulgences, but I
did decide that the cornbread I bought at the grocery store was not technically
a sweet, nor was the honey I dribbled over it.
That glass of chocolate milk I downed after a walk, was just brown milk –
it was not like it was a chocolate milkshake!
Thus, I permitted myself a wee bit of wiggle room. But that was it – I never had a single sweet treat
for eight years until my friend Ann Marie brought me goodies in 2018.
Since I breezed through giving up sweets and treats, every
year going forward I gave up something else that I liked to eat, both for the Lenten
period, and then permanently. Some of
those items included fried food, fast food, prepared food, salty snacks, white
bread/rolls, flavored coffee creamer, cold cereal and red meat. Nope, not a single French fry or onion ring has
touched these lips in many years, but admittedly, my meals sure were boring,
since I denied myself almost everything tasty.
I plodded along until last year when I decided I had to stop this
madness, and just eat treats in moderation, though I still haven’t strayed back
to the dark side with fried or fast food.
So, when Ash Wednesday rolled around on March 6th,
I was perplexed what to give up this year.
I racked my brain and finally decided to give up something I really like
to do – grumbling. I rationalized that
Spring was on the way soon (or so I thought), so my weather worries and groans
would be minimal and how difficult could it really be to stop grumbling, complaining
or whining for forty days?
Unfortunately, I blew it big time before the sun set on Ash
Wednesday, and, just like on New Year’s Day when you set out with the very best
of intentions for the soon-to-be–new-and-reformed-you, it is easy to set the
bar too high and then fail miserably.
That was the case for me. Every
day during Lent, I’d wake up, bound and determined to follow through with nary
a grumble or a grrr leaving my lips, but it just didn’t happen. Let’s face it, sometimes I’m a malcontent.
Next year, I’ll give up something tangible again – it shouldn’t be that difficult as I’m sure not perfect.
So what was I grumbling about today?
Well, when I opened the door to feed the porch pals, I saw a dark-and-gloomy-looking sky. Spring 2019 has been abysmal so far. The days are running together with this ever-present inclement weather, and this morning was no different … just another gray day smack dab in the middle of a string of rainy days. But, since there was nothing falling from those very dark clouds, I hurried to get ready to get out … even if I just hung out in the ‘hood, it was a chance to rack up some miles.
I went downstairs to get my coat, turned the basement light
on and saw movement on the floor – OMG, a centipede that was big enough to go
to work skittered across the brown runner, then disappeared under a piece of
furniture. Yikes! Did he/she have friends? Now, it was “at large” in the basement. This is already the third centipede this year
and more will be arriving with all this wet weather. I sprayed peppermint oil around upstairs, but
why did I not do it downstairs as well?
I took my coat from the hall tree, shook it wildly, turned it upside down,
then inside out, hoping my multi-legged visitor had no relatives that had
strayed to a coat sleeve, or a pocket. I
wasted a good ten minutes before I put the coat on, then laced up my shoes and
hurried out. I opened the storm door so
quickly that it scared Grady who was hustling to the front porch for
peanuts. That poor fur baby freaked out
and ran the other way. “C’mon back here
Grady!” I called. “I’m not going to hurt
you!” But, he had already bolted for the
backyard, up a tree and was looking down at me rather accusingly, i.e. the big, bad human who had spoiled
his breakfast. (The fact that I had put
those peanuts there to begin with did not seem to matter.)
The door slammed shut as I rounded the bend and surprised
another guest, a plump robin that was so startled it dropped a long piece of
plastic and some dried grass from its beak.
My head immediately swiveled upward to the coach light where some
serious nest-building had begun. Incensed,
I shouted: “this will not happen this
year – do you understand me?” I ranted and
raved for a good five minutes, while that red-breasted bird sat on the split
rail fence and watched me as if I’d lost my mind.
Perhaps I had.
I got a second wind from my tirade and lashed out again,
telling that robin that if it wanted to make itself useful, I’d take it
downstairs where it could seek out and destroy that centipede and have a meal
on me. We stared at one another until finally
the robin dropped its nest materials and went to look for worms, bored with my
lecture.
I went into the garage to run the car, and ten minutes later I was ready for my walk. I stepped outside and while locking the door, it started to drizzle. Through droplets that landed on my eye glasses, I saw, then heard, the whir of wings as TWO robins blitzed by me. I looked up at the light – yup, the robin had brought a friend and more nest-fixin’s had been placed in the bend of the light. I have gone through this ordeal for years, even climbing up and filling that open cavity with a bag of styrofoam peanuts or crunched-up newspapers. But in the past, those robins were just as savvy as me. They used their bright-yellow beaks and pecked the bag until it fell out and landed in the garden, then proceeded to build the nest again.
So, do I just suck it up and live with this nest in the
light? Or tear it down? Yes, I am a nature lover, but this is out
front and it looks terrible! Through
gritted teeth and with patience wearing thin, I threatened the pair, saying “go
ahead, build that nest – I love mud and poop splats landing on my mailbox lid,
or grass and twigs falling down on my head when I open the front door until
your chicks leave the nest … well this chick will evict you like I did a few
years ago!”
The solution? I’ll just print out and re-date my original 2013 eviction notice to the robins and have it ready to hang on the coach light because their nest no doubt will be finished when I go out tomorrow morning.
YOU ARE HEREBY EVICTED! This is an open letter to the Robin family who became the avian equivalent of DPs, or displaced persons, this morning. Please understand that I really like birds, and believe me when I say I am neither happy, nor proud, that I evicted you. I am sorry that my slate “Welcome” sign seemed to invite you to become permanent residents here, and that you mistakenly thought my coach light was something special, made for your needs and move-in ready. You built your nest in record time, but sadly, now that home is gone. I suppose you and your kin shall hold me in the same esteem that you did the last time I tore down a nest at the side door. Yup, Dad sat on the cyclone fence and chattered angrily and loudly while I dismantled the nest. And, yes, for two or three years after that, every morning when I watered my flowers, and picked a few weeds, or re-arranged the mulch, you went right out, while I was still there, and pecked pieces of mulch out of the garden and threw it over the rubber edging and onto the lawn. I appreciated that. Thank you. Yes, I know it was under the guise of “looking for worms” that you just grabbed the mulch and picked it out of my garden. Every time I went outside, you stalked me and gave me an evil look. But that nest dismantling was not an isolated incident. How many nests did I need to tear down on the front and side coach lights, eh? A dozen perhaps? And, I had to put bags stuffed with styrofoam peanuts and a pinwheel on the bend of each coach light to deter any more settling in. Finally, we both moved on and I threw the contraptions away and figured you and your kinfolk relocated to another neighborhood. Well, evidently you have a short memory because once again this morning what did I find? A large nest in my front coach light. And yes, I am guilty of evicting you on the spot, no eviction notice even tendered – out on your fractious feathered butt! I hope we have now reached an understanding. You will see that I had to put a large puffed-up bag in the coach light’s elbow in the front yard to deter a return visit. Lookin’ good in the neighborhood now! I do, however, have to admire your tenacity in building this remarkably made nest in record time. I went out to check the mail at 3:00 p.m. yesterday and there was no mail. The rains and storms began around 4:00 p.m. This morning I went outside to walk. I thought I’d check the mailbox to see if mail arrived after the last check. There were huge spots of dried mud on the lid. In the dried mud spots were large pieces of grass, weeds and tangled-up dried vines. The front door had similar mud spots and splats up and down the glass and dripping from the door. Of course I looked upward. I saw a fully-formed nest, about one foot in diameter, resting solidly on the elbow of the coach light. Yes, I knew it was a Robin, since I’ve obviously seen your calling card before. Yes, it was duly noted that two of you were watching me as I left on my walk, and again 3 ½ miles later, when I returned and rounded the corner, you were taking more nest fixin’s … perhaps you were adding on another room? I can’t deal with any of this and I am sorry. You were messy and it will not be tolerated. While I am angry with you, and you with me, I still marvel at how you modeled this durable home for your mate to lay eggs and sit up there. The mud that “glued” the nest together had not even dried yet. The nest lifted out with a small rake, was intact, and it was large and fully formed, anticipating the big event. Mercifully, there were no eggs in the nest. If I could have, I would have taken it somewhere else for you. I apologize for leaving the whole nest sitting in the dustpan momentarily in the driveway while I collected my thoughts on what to do next – I did not mean to taunt you. You looked at me with anger and hurt in your eyes. I felt somewhat humiliated and still do; I am not a mean-spirited person and the last thing I would ever do is harm a living creature. That is why I put your handiwork into a white plastic bag and took it to the end of the street to the alley. Please don’t hate me – I feel badly enough. ~Signed, Homeowner.
And this is why I’ll never give up grumbling for Lent again.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 