Take thee to the seashore to cool off.

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After pounding the hot pavement along Fort Street, with occasional interludes under the shady tree at the “Ponies in the Park” event yesterday, I decided it was time to enjoy a nature jaunt again.  The car needed to be taken for a spin, so I thought I’d head down to the closest thing to a seashore that is around these parts … Bishop Park in Wyandotte.  Hearing the seagulls screech and seeing the water lapping up against the boardwalk and pier walk, could fool you into believing you were enjoying a day at the seashore.  Though there may be no seashells to collect or snuggle up to your ear, and no beach glass to discover in the sand, at Bishop Park the view at the Detroit River is scenic and there is usually a gentle breeze blowing as you stroll along the boardwalk.

I arrived at the pier at 8:00 a.m. and soon discovered I was not the only one who thought that a cool breeze from the Detroit River might temper the heat so as to complete one’s morning exercise regimen.  Several walkers chatted animatedly with one another, a pair of skateboarders whizzed by, as did a couple of joggers almost as soon as I stepped onto the boardwalk.  Just a few minutes later, I found one of those joggers resting on a park bench, looking exhausted, legs akimbo and with a soaking wet face.  Truthfully, she looked pretty wiped out and was clutching a dripping water bottle.  I asked if she had just doused herself with water from the bottle, or was she THAT hot … she laughed and said “I am THAT hot from this humidity – whew!  And yes, it is sweat!”  Well, of course there is the old joke that ladies perspire rather than sweat, but in weather like this, let’s not mince words … ladies sweat too.  It was already 80 degrees and 76% humidity when I left the house.

The fishermen were likewise up and at ‘em.  They were stationed along the shoreline as well as on the pier.  I heard many of the fishermen muttering “the bass aren’t bitin’ … must be the heat” as I watched them reel in empty lines, just with their own minnows or night crawlers attached to the hook.  I strolled along, camera in one hand and a box of oyster crackers in the other.  I was looking for hungry ducks to feed, even though I knew that along with those mallards, I’d likely get a torrent of seagulls as well.  That’s okay, the seagulls are always good for a few “seashore-type” photos to accompany a post about visiting the Detroit River.

A quick glance across the water informed me that once again there were no freighters passing by, but there was a passel of pleasure boats out this morning, and every so often they’d generate a lot of wave activity.  The water came precariously close to the boardwalk a few times and I found myself jumping back to avoid getting the camera or me splashed.

Soon I found myself at the kayak launching area.

KAYAK GATE

KAYAK AREA WITH FENCE

I noticed the wooden platform nearby was not stationary.  I watched that platform moving to and fro with each big wave and every time it swayed, it would creak very loudly.  That noise would have driven me crazy, but I noticed a family of mallards were perfectly content to enjoy their floating perch.   Some were even snoozing on it.

I watched Mama and Papa mallard, who preened for the longest time, and their ducklings must have gotten bored and decided to explore.  So, one by one they plopped off the wooden platform and into the water, where they soon investigated the shoreline, and frolicked in the Detroit River.  Now was a good time to dispense some of my oyster crackers

2 DUCKLINGS AT WALL

DUCKLING HEAD IN WATER

DUCKLING BY HIMSELF

DUCKLING AND OYSTER CRACKERS

But their parents, once they were done preening, soon noticed their brood’s absence, so they waddled over to the edge of the platform to find them.

MAMA DUCK

DAD MALLARD

I noticed Mama mallard kept holding her foot up – did she injure it?

MAMA DUCK HOLDING FOOT

Meanwhile, the ducklings soon tired of fun and games.  Some began to preen and a few decided to get some shuteye with a lookout sibling watching over the others.

DUCKLINGS PREENING

2 DUCKS 1 WATCHING

It was peaceful watching the little family and I took a lot of photos from my spot on the pier.  It was all good until a few fishflies arrived and one landed on my arm.  At first when I felt it, I thought it was just a fly, or even a strand of hair had fallen onto my arm.  It must have settled down ever so lightly onto my skin.  Normally, I detest bugs, and those who know me, are aware that it is more than just not liking creepy crawlies, but I am afraid of them, and petrified I’ll be in a situation where I can’t escape from them.  I know it sounds silly to some people, but I’ve always been that way and nothing is going to change now.  Centipedes and spiders are the bane of my existence.

However, I’m okay with flying insects and I flicked this fishfly off my arm thinking “I’ll let it live – it will only last a few more days anyway.”  My goodwill toward the fishfly resulted in next seeing it on the front of my shirt.  Ugh!  Well, it presented a photo op anyway, so you can see what a fishfly looks like.

FISHFLY ON ME.jpg

We have just passed the height of fishfly season here in Michigan.  Sometimes, when they gather at or near the water, they will cover a building, or a boat – even you, clinging on for dear life.  They only live about a week after hatching, but they arrive en masse and cause misery to those living or working near the water.

Three anglers that had been fishing at the far end of the pier, packed up their gear and headed down the wooden plank toward me.  They must have left behind some food or food wrappers, because as soon as they departed, one enterprising seagull honed in and began pecking away at something on the walkway.

SEAGULL WITH FOOD

He didn’t have his treat to himself for long before two more gulls joined him on the pier.  If you’ve never heard or watched seagulls squabbling over a measly piece of food, it isn’t pretty.  Seagulls are the original angry birds when it comes to food.  They swoop and dive trying to take possession of it, often wresting the tiniest morsel from another gull amidst a snapping beak and flapping wings.  Such drama!

SEAGULLS FIGHTING WITH ONE ANOTHER

It was around this time, that a few gulls noticed the oyster crackers that were on the surface of the water which had floated away from the ducks and ducklings.  So, those gulls began a series of calisthenics to retrieve the tiny crackers from the water.  They made some ungainly moves while swooping and diving and half-landing on the water’s surface.  Suffice it to say seagull table manners are not the best.

SEAGULLS ON THE WATER

After several rounds of fighting at the pier, one seagull was left with his food and the other gulls exhausted themselves landing on the water.  All was quiet and it was time to head to the car and drive to Council Point Park to see if I could find some hungry squirrels to feed.  Before I left Bishop Park, I heard, then saw, a man sitting on a bench playing his guitar.   How peaceful that was.

GUY IN PARK

At Council Point Park, I walked three loops on the shady side and called it done.  It was hot, humid and I was ready to head home and get hydrated and cooled off.  Just four miles today, but I’m not going to beat myself up over it given the extreme heat and humidity.

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Steppin’ back in time.

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Hot cars and hot weather were on today’s agenda.  When I stepped out of the house at 7:45 a.m., (ostensibly to beat the heat at that early hour), I was greeted with a blast of hot and tropical-like air.  I felt as if I should be sipping a drink with a tiny umbrella piercing a piece of pineapple and tucking a hibiscus behind my ear.

I immediately changed my plans for a roundtrip trek to Council Point Park, and two loops at that venue, then to bop over to Fort Street to watch Downriver Cruisin’ for a while.  At 81 degrees and humidity of 91%, I decided to just minimize my steps and walk along the Cruise route only.  What a Summer weenie I am turning into!

I sauntered along Fort Street, then quickly sought shade at Memorial Park when the first dribbles of sweat were running into my eyes.  By then, many Mustangs had already arrived for the “Ponies in the Park” event.

ALL OF THEM

The Mustang Owners Club of Southeastern Michigan members gather at Memorial Park during each Cruisin’ Downriver event to display their cars, which range from the original “Pony” to the later models.

MUSTANG OWNERS OF MICHIGAN.jpg

As more of the Mustang aficionados arrived, they pulled onto the grassy area, then parked and immediately flipped up their respective car hoods to showcase the pristine engines.

GREEN HOOD.jpg

I chitchatted with this guy who was buffing his already-gleaming car with a little wax.

RED - GUY WITH CHAMOIS

He told me this car is a 2015 model and he drives it year-around and it has 45,000.00 miles on it.  I sheepishly admitted I just rolled the odometer to 5,000 miles myself and my car was nine years old.  He thought that was pretty funny and I added “I’m an avid walker though and don’t drive as much as I should.”

Since he, like the other Mustang owners, had the hood up, I bent in close to inspect it and take a picture.

RED - DIFFERENT AUTOGRAPHS

As you can see, the engine area was clean as a whistle and I asked about the autographs – two were designers of both the clay mold and finished product of this car, and the other autograph was from a member of Roush Racing.

More and more Mustangs were being driven up and then sidling between their brethren.  The meeting had an almost clubby atmosphere, and I’m guessing these owners regularly meet at other cruise events.  I meandered around, admiring all the Mustangs from various years, clicking off a few shots of the rows of shiny Ponies, including a few which I remembered as the original Mustang Pony Car circa ’64.  I had several friends whose parents passed their “Ponies” onto their offspring.  This guy was willing to part with his baby for $30,000.00.  It was in prime condition.

MUSTANG 30K

I finally tore myself away from “Ponies in the Park” and grabbed a good spot in the shade, but near the curb to check out the cruisers.  It was just unbearably hot, even under the big tree.  Occasionally, I’d dash out of the shade when I saw an interesting car or truck pass by.

Unfortunately, the cruisers usually use a dedicated lane, (the right-hand lane), for cruising so spectators can see their vehicles up close.  This was not happening today as drivers were all over the road and with the traffic flow from the Rouge River Bridge Project, it was hard to get shots of unique or classic cars, but here are a few below.  I think the color red ruled, just like the red-hot weather, red was the color of the day.

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RED CAR

RED FUNNY CAR

RED FUNNY CAR GOING

RUST CAR

Despite the A/C running all day, I’ve still heard the bands in the distance …

ROCK AND ROLL IN THE PARK

… as well as the ever-present hum of motors and cars squealing throughout the afternoon, so likely the cruisin’ crowd decided to tough it out on this stifling hot day – we got to 94 degrees today, with a 105-degree heat index.  Mercy me!

I may not have gotten all my desired steps in today, but I did enjoy steppin’ back in time.

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Around the ‘hood and under the hood.

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Summer’s long days and scorching temps go hand in hand with cruisin’ … no, not on the high seas, but cruisin’ in your classic automobile along Fort Street for the annual Cruisin’ Downriver event.

When Cruisin’ Downriver was created in 2000, the concept really took off after that inaugural year.  A local oldies radio station set up and broadcast their show at Memorial Park and various primo parking lots along the cruise route, which is six miles long and stretches from Southfield Road in Lincoln Park to Sibley Road in Riverview.

Of course cruisin’ in classic vehicles is not for everyone, especially when Southeast Michigan expects a record-breaking temperature of 96 degrees with a heat index of 105 degrees for tomorrow’s cruise.  Those classic car engines sure aren’t equipped for that heat, and, likely there will be more breakdowns and raised hoods along Fort Street than wheelies and burning rubber.  Drivers won’t fare much better than their nostalgic vehicles as they swelter without A/C and stick to those leatherette seats.

And, it’s not only the weather that will be a pain.  Cruisers will share the road with 18-wheelers and all other vehicles diverted onto Fort Street since the Rouge River Bridge Project began in February 2017 and is due for completion this November.  Wall-to-wall traffic on weekdays is now the norm, so the added vehicles on Fort Street will likely temper the enthusiasm of even the most diehard car enthusiast.  Though I’m not a big fan of the annual Cruise, I do usually stop by and watch the parade of classic cars go by.

The official hours for Cruisin’ Downriver are 9:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. tomorrow, but an evening sans rain and still-bright skies had cruisers sneaking in a few laps beforehand.  As I write this post, I’m listening to muscle cars way down on Fort Street gunning their engines and I can imagine the exhaust wafting upward at 85 degrees on this ozone action day.

This past week, I’ve seen a few classic cars tooling around Downriver, getting geared up for the big day, like this orange-and-cream-colored Chevy Bel Air parked at Council Point Park.

How about the fins on this classic car?

CHECK OUT THE FINS

BUMPER

Check out the side of this ride.

SIDE

Sticking to the seats – no fun!

STICKING TO THE SEATS -OMG

These two classic cars caught my eye while strolling through the ‘hood on my walk.  I wonder if anyone pooled their pennies and snapped up this old Plymouth yet?

GRAY PLYMOUTH

How about this fabulous Ford T-Bird?

THUNDERBIRD

This vintage car’s owner is a regular at Yum Yum Donuts at Fort Street and Emmons Boulevard.

YUM YUM DONUTS

The weather will be hot and steamy, but with no rain slated for a few days, I’ll venture out to Council Point Park, then bop over to Fort Street to check out the 2018 parade of cars.  I’ll get all my steps in before it gets too oppressive out there.  I had hoped to have walked 500 miles by the end of June, but so many days of rain kept my total miles at just 460 as of today … maybe the second half of the year will be more conducive for walking.

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Meet “Stubby”.

stubby.jpg

I know I said I had not seen any squirrels lately … and I truly hadn’t,  except for the pair of squirrels that were lethargic and lounging around a low branch during that hot spell we had about ten days ago.

Well, when I peered up at those two squirrels, I couldn’t help but notice right away that one of them was missing a good portion of his fuzzy tail.

But, since he and his pal were up in a tree with lots of leaves, which made it shady, I really couldn’t inspect his tail, (or lack thereof), until today.  After I walked past “his” tree this morning, I immediately heard rustling overhead, so I stopped in my tracks and looked up.  Although this squirrel paid no attention to me the last time, today he was quick to stare at me …

staring match with stubby

… then immediately started scrambling down to ground level.

tree stubby.jpg

This stubby-tailed squirrel timidly approached me as I opened the Ziploc bag of peanuts to feed him.  He didn’t race over and nuzzle my shoe or dance around my feet like Parker usually does, nor did he do any of the antics the other squirrels that are “regulars” on the perimeter path do.  I wiggled the bag and coaxed him to come a little closer, then laid some peanuts at his front paws.

He looked up at me, then I must’ve passed muster because he took a peanut and enjoyed it …

standing stubby

… then he headed off to bury another peanut, leaving two behind.  I told him I’d guard them for him ‘til he returned, because the cardinal and red-winged blackbird would likely be all over those treats.

digging stubby

So, the question is – what happened to the rest of this poor squirrel’s tail?  It looks as if it is bobbed right off.  No more flicking of the furry tail by this little guy, nor holding it over his head like an umbrella to protect him from the snow and icy pellets on those wintry precip days.

I looked down at him from my vantage point, with that pitiful tail, wondering about his misfortune.  Did he take a tumble, or make a daring escape from a predator who was left with the furry remnant of a squirrel’s tail in its mouth?

looking down stubby

I decided two things:  I would name him “Stubby” and he would get extra peanuts because I felt sorry for him.

I will still be on the lookout for Parker and his pals … I hope they turn up soon.

Doing a “meet and greet” with Stubby is about all the excitement I could scare up these last two days I’ve walked at Council Point Park.  The Park seems rather quiet without the cacophony of sounds from the geese and ducks, although a bullfrog was doing his very best to raise a ruckus in the still morn with his raucous croaking.

Our morning temps yesterday and today could best be classified as “sweater weather” and this morning when I left for my walk it was just 56 degrees.  Perfect walking weather!  Even the sun put in an appearance.  Mother Nature has certainly shortchanged us with sunshine this Spring and there have been so very few beautiful days, that a morning like this one was to be savored.  Tomorrow promises to be still another rainy and stormy day, the entire day, followed by a heat wave.

I walked five miles today … like I said in the last post, you’ve got to get going while the going is good.

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Get while the gettin’s good!

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Walking needs to be efficient these days.  There’s no time for lollygagging or enjoying a leisurely Sunday stroll because, if it hasn’t rained recently, just wait a few minutes as showers or storms are sure to be on the horizon.

Like yesterday – we had rain five separate times.  The sun came out and dried things up, then, just when I was thinking “hmmm, maybe I’ll meander out” … it started to rain again, one time even while the sun was shining.

Today I didn’t think I’d fare much better as to walking.  You know it isn’t good when you listen to the 5:00 a.m. news and the weatherman prefaces his forecast by saying “well, you might need an umbrella and keep an eye to the sky for a pop-up shower or storm.”

So, with that mindset I ventured out.  Due to yesterday’s frequent rain and this morning’s 70-degree temperature and 86% humidity, I ticked off where I did NOT want to go.  Heritage Park is kind of woodsy, so that’s a no-no right now, as would be Lake Erie Metropark with its meadows and marshland.  Both venues would likely be laden with mosquitoes.  Trekking to Trenton to Elizabeth Park was a no-go as that city is having its annual Summer Festival and many of the streets were going to be blocked off.

So, I settled for my old standby, Council Point Park, and took the car for a spin as well.  Once at the Park I chatted it up with a few walkers, while we lamented over the rain ruining Saturday morning’s walk, and, our upcoming heat wave which will rival last week’s temps in the 90s.  Ugh!

Another topic we hashed over was the absence of our feathered and furry pals.   I’ve not seen any geese this week and I saw one squirrel today and that was it.  Usually, the perimeter path is full of furry friends coming to hunt me down for peanuts.  Mike, who also feeds the squirrels on an everyday basis, agreed with me – they simply have not been around.  I’ve been stewing and fretting over the absence of Parker, my longtime faithful furry friend at the Park, and the subject of many a photo and blog post.  Parker has been missing for weeks, and last Saturday when I walked mid-morning, (later than usual for me), I had a conversation with a fellow walker who was carrying a bag of peanuts.  I asked him if he usually walked in the 10:00 o’clock hour, and, if so, if he’d seen any squirrels.  His answer took me aback.  He said that he, like me, always carried the bag of peanuts so the squirrels could see them, but, he feared that predator birds have been swooping down and attacking the Park squirrels and bunnies, so likely our furry friends are hiding to avoid being preyed upon.  I felt sad after he told me that.  I did a recent blog post about a pair of squirrels lounging in a tree, but, they were not the usual Park squirrels – they were not friendly and would not come down to ground level.

I walked four miles and the sky was still overcast but rain didn’t look imminent, so I decided to drive to Lions Park, which would be the first time I visited there this year.  It is just a stone’s throw away from Council Point Park, on River Drive.

Lions Park could be called Council Point Park’s little brother (or sister).  It is similarly situated along the banks of the Ecorse Creek, also lined with trees and bushes, but is smaller and more open.

ECORSE CREEK1

The motto of Lions Park is:  “That All Can Play” …

Capture

… this is because it is a special needs park.

THAT ALL CAN PLAY1.jpg

It is one of our City’s newer parks, and geared for handicapped children.  A braille walk and sensory garden has been planted with a wooden railing so that kids with special needs may walk along the circular garden area and smell and touch the hundreds of plants.  There are twenty varieties of plants in the circular garden.

CIRCULAR WALK1

CIRCULAR WALK2

The flowers were blooming profusely, no doubt due to all the rain.

PURPLE1.jpg

PURPLE2

LUPINE1.jpg

Bees were buzzing and Cabbage Whites flitting delicately nearby, as I walked the length of the sensory garden.

BEE

CABBAGE WHITE BUT

Yesterday’s rain left parts of Lions Park saturated and under the swings were mud puddles.

WET SIGN.jpg

WET SWINGS

SIGN LIONS PARK

Lions Park has a one-half-mile paved loop trail so I walked this Park twice, adding another mile to my total – five miles walked today.

P.S. – It still has not rained.

 

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Well, now it is Summer …

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… as of 6:07 a.m. today.

I’m not sure whether to be ecstatic about Summer’s arrival because it seems that our two heat waves, first at Memorial Day, then this past Sunday and Monday, already placed us in quasi-Summer mode with that horrid heat and humidity.

Then, there was the wicked storm we had Monday night that the weatherman promised would break the heat.  Lightning streaked across the night sky in bright slashes, the wind was wild and rain was coming down in buckets.

At least that is what I heard happened during Monday night’s Summer-like storm.

No, I wasn’t on vacation, but sound asleep.  I missed that whole storm that knocked the heat back 25 degrees, zapped the humidity bigtime plus gave our lawns and gardens a good soaking.  It must have been one heck of a dream I was having that I was so engrossed that I missed all the excitement.  I slept through Mother’s Nature’s antics, and, what my mother used to say was “God moving his furniture around” whenever thunder was roaring and rumbling as it sometimes does.

I also lost my power that evening at 11:30 p.m.  I didn’t know until Tuesday morning when the alarm went off.  I had shut the A/C off in anticipation of the storm, and, yes it was warm, but I never run the A/C when a bad storm is on the way, even though I have a whole-house surge protector.

The battery-operated alarm clock went off with its incessant peeping and I keep it on the kitchen table since the nightstand is a little too handy to hit the snooze bar, or shut it off altogether and return to dreamland.

Usually the dim light from the kitchen stove’s digital clock guides me down the short hallway to shut off that annoying alarm sound.  But not this time because it was pitch dark.  So, how difficult could it be to find the kitchen table?  It was not easy!  Somehow, in the pitch darkness I got totally turned around and ended up at the front of the house, and, all the while the alarm clock was merrily peeping away.  I gritted my teeth, so annoyed by the noise, and the power outage, plus I managed to run into two table lamps (‘scuse me) and the rocking chair (ouch) in my journey to find the alarm clock.  Finally, I located the clock and found the flashlight which I also keep in the kitchen, since 99% of the time when the power goes off, it is when I am up and at the computer.

About 5:15 a.m. I called DTE, our energy provider, and reported the outage.  There was no restoration time – that never happens.  You ALWAYS get a restoration time.  Great, just great!

Then, with my trusty flashlight I went to get the emergency lanterns and battery-operated radio, because who knew when the power would return?  Luckily it was 77 degrees in the house, so not unbearable, but I have some battery-operated fans anyway.

I called my boss and left him a voicemail with my bad news – since I work from home, I was out of commission until the power was restored.  I headed down to the Park.  I walked five miles – my only walk this week because it rained yesterday and it will rain tomorrow morning.  This morning I had to go grocery shopping to replenish the food I lost since the power did not come on until 3:30 p.m. on Tuesday.

A robo-call alerted me around noon that the power would be restored by late afternoon and the outage was not storm-related, but a result of high electrical demand which caused a transformer to blow.  Well, on Monday morning DTE had suggested that we set our thermostats to 80 degrees to avoid this very issue.

So, now the power is back, there is food in the fridge again, and all should be good except my issue with the little ants has taken a twist.  You might recall that the spate of rainy and humid days caused little ants to appear at my kitchen sink a week or so ago … well, those ants at the sink have dwindled – that’s good.  But, while I don’t have ants in my pants, a good many of my tiny, multi-segmented friends have turned into mini flying ants.  They especially like zooming around the light where I am working … I have squished countless ants today.  That’s not so good.  And, as I typed this paragraph, I felt a presence on my face … I reached up and swatted a flying ant.  I Googled (of course) to find out what was going on with the flying ants.  They are looking for a mate and once they find a mate, they lose their wings.  I hope a lot of ants are in the mood tonight, so I don’t deal with too many of them tomorrow.

Ants at a picnic you just deal with.  Ants joining you on the kitchen table while you are working … well, I have no words for that.

Maybe I am ready for Fall – Summer has way too many hassles.

Sometimes a picture paints a thousand words, and I’m not going to share pictures of my ant friends, but I will spotlight some sidewalk art I’ve discovered over the past few weeks.  There will be artwork now that the kids are out of school, except they probably don’t want to waste their pastel chalks or spray chalk since we have rain so much these days.  We will have a rainy weekend once again.

Here are some drawings that have graced the sidewalks in the ‘hood and at the Park, including the picture up top – I guess the artist figured it was hot enough to call it “Summertime” when they created the picture.

HELLOS SUNSHINE

RAINBOW

MAN

So, the longest day of the year is almost over and we now begin that slow journey toward Winter.   I’ll leave you with this message I saw scrawled in chalk along the perimeter path a few days ago.

“Send joy in the journey” … I kind of like that thought and I’ll hold onto it in my mind … make it my mantra for the rest of 2018.  It will keep me from getting any crabbier.

JOY

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Today is his day … or maybe I should say “hiss” day.

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Well, I’m usually a Winter weenie, but I’ve never been a Spring-almost-on-the-cusp-of-Summer-weenie.

I didn’t even poke my head outside the door today.

It got to 95 degrees, with a heat index of 100 degrees.  It was already pretty steamy by 9:00 a.m.   The rain, heat and humidity has made the front and backyard look unloved and raggedy, and, even I had to admit the inside of the house was looking cringe worthy as well.

So, I strapped on the pedometer and got 2 ¼ miles of steps just doing housework and miscellaneous tasks.

I didn’t even break a sweat – yay me!

But, when I finally sat down with a big sigh and waited for the computer to boot up, I looked around – yup, the house might pass the “white glove test” now, but I feel like I need another day off for myself!

I know I am a malcontent sometimes, especially when all Winter I dreamed about nice weather and getting out to walk while chasing my goal, taking photos, writing about my walks … then, in the next breath, I complain about the heat and stay inside.  Go figure.  Unfortunately, tomorrow will be like today – sultry and steamy, then rain on Tuesday.

So, I’ll whine a little on Monday and Tuesday as well.

If it was not Father’s Day, I likely would have skipped today’s post, but, it is the day that people honor their fathers, or celebrate being a father, so I have a few photos to share on this special Hallmark holiday.

As you know, I have been tracking the geese and their goslings for weeks now.  There are three families of geese and the oldest ones look just like their parents now.  You’ve seen the photos that run the gamut from fuzzy little yellow and gray chicks, to gangly-looking young geese and now that they have finally grown into their bodies, they have the striking black head and familiar plumage and they are getting just as feisty as their folks.

You can’t identify characteristics on geese like humans.  I mean you don’t say “hey, Sonny’s got his Dad’s blond curly hair” or “looks like Junior’s got his father’s big ears” … no, in the geese world it does not work that way.

It’s more what I would call “attitude” … mixed in with a whole lotta love.  Follow along with these photos from the Geese Family Album.  See the goslings mimic their father by hissing at people on the perimeter path … they see how Dad has a hissy fit when anyone comes too close to his babies.  Or trying to perfect their strut, er … goose stepping.

And finally, make sure to take a gander at the gander on the hill watching his mate and offspring.

That’s pure love.  Just the way it is supposed to be with a father and his brood.

Happy Father’s Day.

Just a chip off the old block – see the first gosling hissing.

Practicing goose-stepping and perfecting the strut.

The stragglers – guess they saved the best for last?

Hey guys, this is how you terrorize humans … hissing and histrionics will have them running off the path for their lives.

So … can you hear me now?

You must deal with me first as I am in charge here.

The sentry

Family #1 goose and goslings, who soon will spread their wings and fly away.

Proud Papa watching over (and admiring) the wife and kids.

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Too pooped to participate.

SLEEPY BOY

Again our weekend weather has been a disappointment as I continue to shake my head about this decidedly weird Spring we’ve had.  Yesterday, the weather folks called for rain and several thunderstorms beginning at dawn, then off and on throughout Saturday; Sunday and Monday would feature hot-and-steamy temperatures in the mid-90s with a heat index of 100+ degrees – ugh.  We might as well morph right into Summer as it makes its debut next Thursday anyway.

Because of my walking regimen, and, more because I am a weather worrier, I follow a few meteorologists, plus check out the online Weather Channel at www.weather.com on a daily basis.  Yesterday everyone predicted this rainy/stormy Saturday.  But, because they are often wrong, when I went to bed Friday night, I told myself “you’ll get up the usual time, look outside at dawn and if it is not raining, you’ll go on a walk” … so that was my mindset when the alarm went off this morning.  However, I’d already had breakfast, including coffee, when the first rumble of thunder started around  5:30 a.m.  It was one of those long, deep rumbles that precedes the first huge splats of rain, and then the inevitable thunderstorm.  Another walk ruined!   I decided I was not going to be consulting the window, the weatherman, nor Weather.com all day long to try to fit in a walk.  I was so disgusted that I turned off the kitchen light and went back to bed.  I didn’t even bother resetting the alarm.  I’d just wake up when I was good and ready.  (So there!)  Well, I woke up around 9:30 a.m. and saw sunshine streaming through the blinds.  I got up and looked outside – clear as a bell with a blue sky and the sun shining brightly.  I was disgusted with myself, Mother Nature and all the weather “experts” and I turned on the radio just as the weatherman said “it’s currently 75 degrees, 75% humidity and a storm is coming around noon.”

So I sprang into action, in an effort to salvage a walk and be home before the stormy weather arrived.  I took the car for a spin and off we went to Council Point Park.  I drove past the woodchuck who was way at the outskirts of the Park and I silently said “hold that pose, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes” and pulled into the parking lot.  It was already hot and sticky as I crossed the parking lot, and I started on the second loop first, but the woodchuck was long gone, likely back in his cool underground burrow to avoid the heat and another photo op.  I did two complete loops on that side of the Park just in case he had a change of heart and emerged, but he did not.

I then headed over to the other side of the Park.

I don’t know if it was the heat, my late arrival, or the commotion of a graduation party going on at the pavilion area, but there were no furry peanut pals there to greet me at the beginning of the trail.  Perhaps the loud hum of a generator that was running near the pavilion (to keep the party food and drinks cold) had scared them off.  However, on the second time around this loop, I heard squirrels chattering and looked up in a tree to find two squirrels laying on different tree branches.  I spoke to them, but they didn’t acknowledge me like they usually do by scrambling down the tree to hurry over to my feet.  They just stayed there, sprawled out, their furry forms and bushy tails stretched along the thick branch.  Were they sick or just being lazy?  Was their energy zapped by the heat and humidity like mine was?  I took out the Ziploc bag of peanuts and wiggled the plastic bag, but there were no takers, and I even lined up a few peanuts on the asphalt path – still no movement by them.  Just  blank stares and their lounging position up in the tree.  I decided I would not hang around any longer to coax and cajole them.  They were obviously new to the Park since they didn’t recognize one of their most-faithful benefactors, so I moved on.

Before I left, I took some pictures of this pair of slackers, and, as I walked away I decided they’d be the subject of today’s post and I knew just the title for it:  “Too pooped to participate” – you don’t hear this expression much anymore, but it was a common and polite way to “beg off” doing something by simply saying “sorry, I’m too pooped to participate.”

SQUIRREL 1

SQUIRREL 2

My mom used to love to do jigsaw puzzles and she especially enjoyed those puzzles that featured the artwork of painter Charles Wysocki.  His Americana folk art paintings often featured horse and buggy rides and quaint farmhouses, but there were unique animal scenes as well.  I’d see those puzzles in progress on the puzzle board, so I got familiar with his artwork.

One Wysocki puzzle Mom did was the reproduction of this painting entitled “Too pooped to participate” and this photo of  one of those sleepy squirrels reminded me of this scene.

Do you agree?

TPTP Charles Wysocki

WYSOCKI SQUIRRELfinal

I did two complete trips around Council Point Park, only four miles today, but they were bonus miles that I didn’t count on given the dire weather forecast.  And, as I write this post, while I don’t welcome bad weather anytime, it still has not rained or stormed.

[Image of “Too pooped to participate” by Charles Wysocki from Pinterest.]

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The last school bell ‘til Fall rang today …

SASSY MAMA HEADER

 

… and the kids let out a collective cheer – the parents not so much, especially the moms.  I remember how good it felt on that last day of school, knowing that ten weeks stretched before you, with no class, no homework or tests.  I’d be ecstatic, even if it meant I had those pesky Summertime chores to do, like pull weeds, or help out inside.

I suspect there will be more kids at Council Point Park now every morning, some tagging along with their moms to walk the trail by their side, or perhaps to use the playground equipment there.

I wish I could encourage those kids not to just walk along aimlessly on the trail, or enjoy a few quick trips down the slide, because there is so much more to experience if you just take a few minutes each day to stop and look around you.

This past Wednesday morning, the clock alarm buzzed and so I trudged out to the kitchen to turn it off.  I can’t have the alarm at the bedside as it makes its incessant noise, then I turn it off and go back into dreamland.  So, instead I have two alarms, with the obnoxious-sounding one sitting on the kitchen table.  Just as I do, 365 days a year, I turned on the kitchen light, turned off the alarm clock, then went to the kitchen sink to fill up the kettle to make a cup of instant coffee.  On Wednesday morning, there were little ants running everywhere in the stainless steel sink and along the countertop.  They were sure more animated than I was!  The CFL bulb in the kitchen was still dim as it takes a few minutes to totally warm up and work properly, so in my still sleepy stupor, those little bodies darting over the stainless steel sink area, left me momentarily mystified.

Then I knew – oh my goodness, the baby ants were back!

I had a mess of baby ants a couple of years ago when I still had my canary Buddy, and was terrified one would walk across the countertop and into his cage and bite him.  We both survived, but then, just like now, the countertop had several low paper plates filled with cornmeal.  This is for the ants to feast on, since it eventually kills them as they can’t digest it properly.

Yes, I love all creatures, but I draw the line at creepy crawlies that have more legs than I do and run faster than me.

So, as I walked to the Park on Wednesday morning, I was thinking that the kitchen would look like an ant farm run amok by the time I returned, and I was not in the mood to be swiveling my head toward the sink all day as ants skittered along the counter tops here, there and everywhere.

But, once down at the Park, I momentarily forgot my ant issues and started out on the trail – after all, there were steps to walk, goslings to gawk at, hungry squirrels to feed, and … pictures to be taken if something interesting crossed my path, like Mama squirrel who, as you see in the header photo, looked at me indignantly when I tried to offer her peanuts instead of her mud-covered walnut she insisted on gnawing on.

Once again, in the still of the morning, I heard the belly flops of large fish in the Ecorse Creek which runs parallel to the walking trail.  That phenomenon had been happening for a few days already.  The big splashes and churning of the water seemed likely because it’s spawning season.  I saw a few fish leap out of the water, then come down hard in a belly flop.   Here’s the aftermath of one exuberant fish flop near the pond lilies.

BELLY FLOP

I stood poised with the camera, but those flopping fish either went downstream, or to another location, so I was left standing there waiting on them.  I remembered the fish flopping happened a few years ago and a fellow walker told me it was Asian carp that had found their way into our tiny Creek from the River.

But the water was not the only happenin’ place on Wednesday.

Recently I wrote a post about admiring the Painted Turtles on the partially submerged log at the Creek.  I can barely see them from the trail and must peep through the leaves to watch them and/or take their picture.  Other walkers have told me they’ve seen Painted Turtles ambling along the pathway, just taking their time, as turtles are inclined to do.  So, on the second loop, which is usually devoid of interesting critters, ahead of me on the path, was a Painted Turtle.

Since he didn’t run all over the place like the squirrels, taking his photo was pretty easy.

SMALL TURTLE1

His shell was still glossy and damp, so he likely was on a brief foray to land, maybe for a change of scenery, eventually to return to the Creek.

 

SMALL TURTLE2

I was bent over, checking him out, when fellow walkers, Janet and John, called to me across the walking loop:  “hey Linda, did you see the big turtle on the hill?”  “Nope” I answered them, and we started a back-and-forth conversation about it.  Meanwhile this small turtle scuttled away, thus thwarting any more photo ops.

SMALL TURTLE3.jpg

I crossed over to their side of the walking loop to get more info.  Janet described where it was, and I had just walked past the darn thing, but admittedly, while walking, I do occasionally have to scan the upcoming pathway for goose poop and cracks in the asphalt.

I thanked them and quickly retraced my steps.  By the time I arrived, a small crowd was encircling this large turtle.  Unlike the other turtle, this one’s shell was quite dry and dusty looking and it had been out of the water so long that it had bird droppings on the top of its shell.

So, I stood there, alongside the other walkers and moms pushing strollers, as we watched this turtle using its front and back legs to vigorously dig a deep hole in the grassy slope.  Never mind that we looked like a group of voyeurs, hoping to catch a glimpse of her laying her eggs; instead, we were all mesmerized by this glimpse into such a natural phenomenon.  We all stood watching her every move for a good twenty-five minutes, many of us contributing tidbits of information we had gleaned through the years on how turtles lay eggs, and then the hatchlings will break out of their shells in a race to submerge themselves in water.

Of course I took some photos, even if her shell was festooned with bird poop.  I wanted to share what I saw, that being her massive rear legs kicking the dirt away, and Mama Turtle, having moistened that earth, pounding it down further to ensure the muddy hole would safely accommodate all the eggs once they were laid.

FIRST

SECOND.jpg

THIRD

[Note:  I discovered this big turtle was a Snapping Turtle, and not a Painted Turtle, as originally thought.]  When I was online later that day, I made it a point to check out some information on the nesting habits of both Painted Turtles and Snapping Turtles

Approximately 80-90 days later, the hatchlings emerge and make a beeline for the water.  If you’re interested in seeing a short video, here is one which shows what we were watching, as described above:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyiwCNDsdyM ]

I just knew I had to go back the  next day and see how Mama Turtle covered up the nest and I did just that.  Just as the online articles stated, she camouflaged the hole with loose soil and no one would be any the wiser; after all, it is a Park and this nest area is not near any activity like the soccer field or inline skating area.  But, contrary to the information I read, this nest is only 20 feet from the Creek’s edge.

Here is a photo of the covered-up nest … yes, it is nothing spectacular.  The miracle of life will occur about six or more inches beneath that surface.

FINISHED RESULT

After nearly a half-hour of watching the turtle digging her hole, it was time to head home and get ready for work.

But, wait … there were more surprises in store for me at the Park.  While the turtles were fascinating, yesterday I was on the pathway and heard another fish flopping in the Creek.  It happened twice in one minute, so I strayed over to the water’s edge, and suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something large move in the black raspberry bush beside me.  I jumped back as it startled me.  My sudden presence brought this woodchuck out of its nirvana of noshing on black raspberries.

BLACK RASPBERRIES.jpg

We had a quick staring match …

STARING MATCH

… then it reluctantly hightailed it out of the berry bush …

WOODCHUCK.jpg

… and waddled over to the Creek’s edge.

I saw the elusive heron who was preening itself on the cement precipice … that is, until it saw me and bolted.

There are a world of wonders in my favorite nature nook.  I hope kids will develop the same fascination as I had many decades ago, when I dipped an empty Red Rose pickle jar into the Creek in the meadow at the end of my street and brought home tadpoles for temporary pets.

And now I’ll close this scholarly post, with a quote from a brilliant mind:

“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.”

~ Albert Einstein

 

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Wayback Wednesday and School Daze.

header maybe1

Over the course of my 1,145 blog posts generated to date, at least 90% of them have been strictly about walking, which makes sense since the title of this blog is “Walkin’, Writin’, Wit & Whimsy”.

Admittedly, I’ve strayed off the beaten path, meandering from the usual tales from the trail, to occasionally write about a fond memory, especially for holidays, special occasions and life events.  Like today’s topic … graduation.

This morning it was hot and humid when I stepped out the door – not quite tropical, but gettin’ there.  I ended up walking five miles and came home feeling like a limp dishrag.  This morning’s trek got me over the 400-mile hump, so I’ve now walked 401 miles thus far this year, with only 650 more miles to meet my goal.  I’m willing if Mother Nature cooperates, but she’s not been too helpful the first half of 2018.

That five-mile trek in the heat and humidity was admirable, but 45 years ago today, I took a short and memorable walk … a few steps that took me across the stage at Cobo Hall in Detroit, along with 612 of my classmates from Lincoln Park High School.  The occasion was our high school graduation ceremony.  The event was on a Wednesday, just like today, with similar weather – it was a sweltering hot evening.

The fashion for girls circa 1973 was flirty mini dresses and I was wearing an outfit that I had sewn myself.  I used to make all my own clothes because I was tall and couldn’t always find clothes that did not look like they belonged to my little sister.  I wore that dress with sky-high platform sandals which were also the rage at the time.  Looking at the photograph while preparing this blog post, I wondered why I thought I needed to add another three inches to my five foot nine inch height?   My father took some photos before we left the house for the graduation ceremony.

linda in the red dress

linda at the gate

There was a hubbub of commotion at Cobo Hall as our 613 classmates assembled for the commencement ceremony.  We were excited, as well as a little nervous, and, since we were all clustered together, it soon got hot in the stage waiting area.  I was warm wearing that heavy royal blue gown and the uncomfortable mortarboard perched on my head, and, I knew it would take forever to proceed to the letter “S” last names.  So, like many of my classmates, I unzipped the gown quite a lot to cool off a bit.  Big mistake.  Finally, the person calling the newly minted graduates’ names reached the tail end of the “Rs” so I decided to put myself back together again in anticipation of “the walk” to receive my diploma and the eventual flipping of that orange and blue tassel from right to left.

But, horrors of horrors, the gown’s front zipper was stuck – the teeth did not want to mesh properly.  Oh for goodness sake!  All decorum surely would be lost if I had to walk across the stage with my bright-red mini dress peeking out of the gown.  My brain was churning with options as we were now in the “S” names.  So, do I clutch the front of the gown to make that walk?  But then, how would I shake the person’s hand and take my diploma from them with the other hand simultaneously?

I tugged.

I pulled.

But that zipper was still stuck.

Finally, I had to enlist the aid of several fellow “S” through “Z” named classmates.  With three of us working on the stupid zipper, and one quick successful final tug, decorum was restored and a minute or two later I was off, treading carefully, so as not to trip in those clunky shoes as I walked across the stage to receive my high school diploma .

It was a traumatic event at the time and here I am writing about it some 45 years later and laughing as I recall my near-faux pas.

When the graduation ceremony was over, we flipped our tassels from right to left signifying we were graduates, and off we went to act like juveniles at the All Night Party that was held at our high school.

Earlier this week, Cheryl, a former classmate, suggested we use our small “friendship photos” that we exchanged with one another during our senior year, as our Facebook profile picture to commemorate the 45th anniversary of our “graduation walk”, thus, that sepia-toned photo prompted this post and it appears up on top in the header photo.

I was the youngest student in my graduating class, having just turned 17 years old in April of 1973.  This was because, when I was growing up in Canada, students were often “double-promoted” or skipped the “review grades” … I was a good student, but truthfully, most of the class skipped an entire grade if they were able to pass a qualifying test.

After high school, I continued my education at Henry Ford Community College, graduating with my Associate’s Degree in June 1976.

linda with cake

linda with flowers

At HFCC our graduation gowns were a similar royal blue color with a white and blue mortarboard tassel.  You can believe I did not unzip the graduation gown that time!

Next I went on to Wayne State University where I obtained my Bachelor’s Degree in June 1978.

linda official pic

It seems inconceivable to me that forty years has passed – where did the time go?  Mid-June 1978 was a hectic time for me.  My parents were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary and had a small dinner party …

dinner

… and I was working weekends at the diner, plus cramming for final exams, the last exams I would ever take.  My grandmother was here from Toronto for the anniversary party and the graduation ceremony.  At the last minute, I decided not to go to commencement as it was very hot and humid weather that day and my grandmother had a heart condition.  Climbing stairs and the hot weather were very bad for her, so I suggested we skip the ceremony and have a celebratory dinner instead.

I took photos of my grandmother in my graduation cap and gown holding a mock diploma.

nanny

I donned my cap and gown and went to the diner to visit my boss, Erdie, to have my picture taken with him.  One day I will write about Erdie and his wife Ann, who were very special to me the entire time I worked at the diner (1973 through 1978).

linda and erdie

P.S. – I had such a solemn look on my face because I refused to smile for any photo due to my mouthful of metal braces.

Life is a journey, no matter how few or many steps you take.  For me, school was a big part of that meaningful journey, and no one can take that education experience away from me,  but I have gleaned more information about life well beyond the classroom environment.

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