Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


Crane watching

While I was walking the boardwalk searching for the Queen I noticed these cranes through the bushes and across the road.

Is our lunch being delivered?

What were they watching, I wondered?

You gotta make sure you check both ways before you cross this road!

Oh. You wouldn’t think there’d be so much traffic on a cold mid-week afternoon.

That guy’s got skinny legs.

Don’t worry, no cranes (or runners) were injured in the capturing of these images.

Guess our lunch is delayed.

But I wonder if these guys don’t think it’s about time to head south?



I’ve been thinking, since I’ve been injured, about how hard life can be when you have a disability.

I broke my little finger Saturday. Seems a small injury, but it’s wrapped up in a cumbersome cast that engulfs most of my right hand. And the same fall re-injured an older wrist problem on my left hand, so there’s a splint over there too.

It all makes me pretty useless.

For example, I was talking to my brother and sister-in-law who were concerned about my fall, with the phone propped awkwardly between my two useless hands, when I realized fibers from my cast on my right hand had become attached to the velcro on the splint around my left hand, essentially gluing my hands together. I kept talking while sort of waving the whole mess at my husband, silently asking for help.


Last night I couldn’t get my socks off. Neither hand could grasp the back of a sock much less had the strength to pull. I finally used the toes of one foot to push the sock off the other. Then repeated the maneuver.

And don’t even ask how taking a bath while one arm is encased in a garbage bag works. Turns out you can’t hold a washcloth or soap with that hand at all, which makes washing the opposing side of your body pretty much impossible. But hey, I had a nice warm soak which felt pretty wonderful.

Yesterday, the day after the injury, the dog asked to go out very early in the dark morning like usual. She doesn’t care about her mama’s finger. I got my shorts almost wrestled on using one hand but I couldn’t get the zipper up, the shorts were hung up low on my hips. Well, it was 3:30 and dark out, I figured I didn’t need them zipped.

Then I couldn’t get my sweatshirt on, my bound up hands didn’t fit through the cuffs. I left the sweatshirt hung up on my hands and half way over my shoulders. Obviously that didn’t zip either.

By then Katie was hopping up and down in anticipation and I couldn’t get the leash attached to her collar using my only my left hand. After much groaning and improvising, and some sweat, I managed, though my hand was starting to throb.

Katie and I wandered the yard, me hoping my shorts stayed up and for no cars to come by, her enjoying the cool morning breeze. I was looking up at the stars, thinking about nothing much when I realized I should probably be watching my feet instead. I couldn’t afford to trip, over Katie or a piece of sod. I didn’t have a spare hand to catch my fall. The Cheshire cat smile of a moon illuminated our path as we carefully made our way back to the house.

Today I’m in sweats and an oversized t-shirt and Katie walks the house dragging her leash. My hand doesn’t hurt as long as I keep up with the Tylenol and don’t bang it into things like walls or cupboard doors.

I didn’t bother with socks.

I have appointment tomorrow with a surgeon. I’m looking for good news. Meanwhile I’ll keep improvising.

I’m grateful this isn’t permanent.


The last long run

The title of this post might be misleading for any number of reasons. Today’s run/walk was probably not the last long run I’ll ever do, and frankly there wasn’t all that much running involved.

But I have the much anticipated (at least by me) Crim race next Saturday, and today was my last long training run in preparation for actually accomplishing the ten hot and hilly miles next weekend.

Pontoon boats waiting for the weekenders to descend.

It’s not as though I’ve been training methodically. Or even with a plan. I just tried to run longer once a week than I did the week before. And I tried to get out there one or two other times during the week to do 3 or 4 miles.

Moving in formation away from the noisy, gasping, foot slapping runner.

And even then it wasn’t really running like I remember from the days when I was young. It was shuffle along for a quarter mile, gasp for air and walk at least part if not all of the next quarter, then pick up the speed and shuffle along again.

And if there was a big uphill, then all bets are off and walking was totally acceptable. Unless I wanted to prove something to myself, in which case I sometimes shuffled to the top just to say I could.

But not generally.

Riding a bike looked infinitely more fun.

This morning I did my last long run/walk at my favorite park. It’s where I used to run long every weekend, often meeting one or more of my running friends to talk and run together.

Along the familiar route today I’d remember things from previous runs. A running partner with a frozen water supply line here, a couple of dancing cranes there, the spot that Katie rested before we headed back to the car on one of our walks.

Very tall water lillies. I need to come back here with the good camera and maybe a kayak.

And sometime during mile 7 as I was slogging up a little hill to round the flagpole, ensuring my total would be ten miles because I added that ‘little’ out and back at Turtlehead, I remembered that once, many years ago while training alone I had come up this very hill and found a flock of cedar waxwings swarming a tree. I looked up at the tree again, now perhaps twenty years later, and imagined those birds, their little bodies fliting among the branches, the color on their tails. I remembered how I stood there a long time watching them way back then. And I noticed birds flitting among the same trees, though my eyesight is much worse now than it was then, so I thought today’s birds were sparrows.

Until I got closer and heard the little snuffling tweets they made as they flew back and forth.

Such delicate little blue bell type flowers.

Could it be? Not possible! But yes, up in the top of the trees was a flock of cedar waxwings, yellow band on their tails the tell-tale sign. I had to laugh out loud, though to be honest, crawling up a hill in mile 7 of a ten mile run is not generally a time I spend a lot of time laughing.

I guess sometimes you can conjure up memories and make them real if you give your mind free reign.

Proof summer is sliding at an alarming pace into fall.

Anyway, I saw lots of things on this run, the pictures here are all taken with my phone, often while I was still moving. They aren’t great photogenically, but they tell you the story of a (very) long run during a grey, foggy morning, at my favorite park.

And I’m very very glad it’s done.

Hiding among the reeds to avoid the paparazzi.


Running toward the race

Three weeks from this Saturday, that’s the day of my 10 mile race, the race I signed up for last winter when it seemed like I had lots and lots of time to go from zero to 10.


Mile 1, heading down the hill to the woods.

Today I walked and ran 8 miles at a local park. I had a plan and I executed it, so I’m happy even though it took me just over 2 hours to get it done.

My plan was to jog the second quarter mile in each of the eight miles, and then some parts of the other quarters, depending on the terrain (up a hill, walking, down a hill, maybe I’d jog) and the sun (in the shade, jog, in the sun, walk).

The Mile 2 sign sits amid wild flowers.

Sometimes it was hard, especially, for some reason, mile 5 and mile 7. But during my quarter mile jog I’d tell myself I only had to jog one stinking quarter and if I gave up I would have to run another one, so no sense giving up. And I didn’t. And some of the miles, if I felt good, I’d jog the 4th quarter of a mile too.

Just to prove I could.

The miles seemed to go by easier than in past attempts. I guess that’s testimony to getting out there as often as I can, and also because it was cooler today, only 68F (20C) when I started this morning. I think it was in the high 70s (23C) by the time I was finished, but there was a breeze which helped a lot.

A little bit of sunny yellow to make me smile on Mile 3.

The breeze also helped with the big flies that circled my head from mile 3 through the end of the run. I hate those flies, they hurt when they bite, but mostly they’re just annoying. Plus I look stupid trying to run while flinging my arms around over my head.

Looking forward to the shade during Mile 4.

Mostly the flies landed and became entangled in my hair where they buzzed angrily. I didn’t mind that so much because at least they weren’t biting me. But there was one fly obviously not paying attention because he flew into my left eye sometime during mile 6. As I swatted at my eye, I tried not to trip over my feet while moving forward using only one eye. Not a good look, but by then, to be honest, nothing about me was a good look.

A butterfly enjoyed some wildflowers in an open meadow during Mile 5.

Finally slogging my way out of the woods near the beginning of mile 8 I faced that long, sunny, uphill mile to the car. A small family on bikes came out of the woods behind me, the mother warning the two young children on their tiny little bikes that “now we have to go up the big hill.” The little boy, maybe 8, said, as he passed me, “I need to get around this girl, she’s going too slow.” His sister said, “You shouldn’t call an old lady a girl.” The mom said “And you shouldn’t call anyone slow.” I laughed out loud as he looked suspiciously over his shoulder at me as they sped away.

Plenty of mosquitoes back here near this pond during Mile 6.

And while I was on the steepest part of the hill, walking because I smartly ran my 8th quarter mile during a flat section, I caught up to a mother and little girl, maybe 5, pushing their bikes up the hill. Quite a way from the crest the little girl told her mom that she thought she could do it.

Mile 7 was filled with dappled shade.

So, with her mom chanting “You can do it, you can do it,” she got on her bike and muscled her way up to the top. Occasionally she wavered, but then would shout, “I can do it!” and kept pushing on. She made it and I was smiling as wide as her mom as they lit off toward the parking lot.

There’s a bench under that tree, taunting me during Mile 8.

She was shouting the same thoughts I’d been chanting silently during my long run/walk. She just looked cuter doing it.

The pictures here were taken during the walk portions of my 8 miles, one image for each mile, and one for the last quarter mile I went over 8.

Who could resist stopping to capture this, just after the end of mile 8.

Thanks for coming along, it helped to have you rooting for me. I thought a lot about truck stuff while I was out there, thanks for supporting me in those efforts too.

I hope the race goes as well as this 8 miles did.

I can do it!


Smiling on the run again

I’ve got this road race coming up at the end of August. It seemed like a good idea when I registered and paid the pretty hefty fee months ago. But now August is sneaking up on me and I’ve been away from home for weeks at a time not training.

Oh, I took running clothes with me wherever I went. I’m sure they were quite comfortable sitting nice and secure inside my luggage.

Meanwhile, I need to get back on track. I’ve given myself permission to walk as much of the ten mile race as I need to. I’ve never run the whole thing, and I’ve run this race a bunch of times over the years. But still it would be nice to finish in a reasonable time. At least within the same day. Walking is sooooo slow!

A running friend and I are planning on doing the race together, at least part of it. Funny, we are both worrying about whether or not we can stick with each other. She’s training by running 4 minutes, walking 1 minute. I’m training by running a quarter mile, walking a quarter mile.

I think my run portion likely is about 4 minutes, though I’m not sure. It’s a proven fact that it is impossible to do math in your head while you’re running and this morning I was trying to divide my average time into quarters to get some idea of my pace. I definitely know that my walk portion is way longer than her one minute walk break.

Today I did six miles, at my favorite park, trying to get a feeling for my speed, or lack of it. I tried to find the stopwatch on my phone app, but realized pretty quickly that I can’t actually see my phone apps without my glasses. So I don’t know if I’ll be able to stick with Betty at our race, but I’ll work between now and then to run her style, 4 minutes of running, one minute of walking.

We’ll see how it goes.

Meanwhile, here’s a montage of pretty things I saw on this morning’s run/walk.

So…how does all of this fit Trent’s weekly smile? Well, it felt great to be back at my favorite park, one where I used to run long every Saturday with a multitude of running friends. Lots of beautiful things to see, so I took photos during my quarter mile walks.

During one of those walk breaks a beautiful doe stood just behind a bush, she stared at me, I stared at her. Would have been an amazing photograph, but my phone didn’t have enough storage to take one more image. So she and I just watched each other for a long time. Made my mile 5 extra long, but extra special. So it all balances out.

I think I was smiling the whole six miles. In fact I was so happy to get the six miles done that I pulled into a cupcake place on the way home and bought a lovely lemon creme cupcake.

No I did not!! But I did look longingly at the cupcake place as I drove past. Hope the thought of a lemon cupcake made you smile!

But really, please write a post about what you’ve smiled about this week and link to Trent’s blog. He’ll recap all the smiles next Monday. It’s always good to begin Monday with a bunch of smiles!

Can’t wait to see yours!


Singing in the rain and other smiles

Early in the morning the sun begins to poke through.

On my list of fun and stupendous things to do in 2019 is to run or walk the 10 mile Crim race in Flint this coming August. I know it’s something I can walk, barring some sort of injury, but walking takes forever and I’m sure I’m going to want to run some of it.

So I’m trying to stick to a training schedule of sorts.

I’ve narrowed it down to one day a week of trying to run faster, (Don’t laugh) one day of running longer, and one day of just getting some miles in.

Lots of these in bloom today.

Today was my longer run day, and the plan was to do 8 miles at my local bike path through the woods park. Usually I kind of dread the ‘long run’ days, but this morning I woke up excited to see how it was going to go.

It’s done now and I thought maybe you’d wonder how it went, so I’ll tell you, mile by mile. Come on, let’s get started.

It’s a long and winding path.

Mile one started out a bit slow. My excuse is that I was several yards away from the car when I realized I was still wearing my glasses. For a moment I thought about leaving them on, but sweat and running and glasses just doesn’t work for me, so I turned around and tossed them in the car. I’m sure that’s why that first mile went a little long even though it’s almost all downhill, and I usually use it as my shakedown run, checking to see what parts of my body are not into running and might give me a bit of grief. This time there was just a tiny, vague twinge in my right knee.

All systems go!

A bit of fungus art.

Just past the one mile marker I was startled as a grackel (bird) exploded out of a tree and across the path right in front of me. I had been looking for my (as I tend to call him) Mr. Bluebird who has regularly sat in that tree watching me go by. Last time I was out there Mrs. Bluebird sat there and observed my slow progress. I guess they’re both busy right now with babies.

And beyond the two mile marker I stopped quickly to examine the wet tracks of something that had crossed the path not long before my arrival. Maybe a dog, but more likely a coyote. Though I’ve seen them before and they never bother me, I picked up my pace, from a slow hobble to what I like to call hobble+.

See those dark spots? Wet paw prints from something.

Shortly after the three mile marker I ran into two chipmunks goofing off, chasing each other on the path. I decided to call them Chip and Dale. They were having a lot of fun until they noticed me. Then they stood up on their hind legs and watched me. I stopped to watch them. Then I moved closer to try for a picture and they streaked off making all sorts of chipmunk noises to warn the woods about the big noisy clomping person out on the path. Their warning was at least three times as big as their little bodies!

A couple of people on bikes enjoying the morning.

The beginning of mile four goes through some deep woods, one of my favorite parts of this path. Less wet than before, so fewer mosquitoes, but still pretty, and shady for those summer runs. By the end of the mile, though, the woods give way to open meadow with a bit of a breeze that I enjoyed. I had a hard time deciding what to wear this morning, and ended up with shorts and a long sleeve technical shirt. It was a damp 52 when I started my run. Turns out long sleeves were a mistake, I should have worn a tank top even though I feel fat in tank tops.

The sky got a little worrisome.

I was watching the sky as I ran through the meadow, making note of ominous clouds way off to the west. As I hit the four mile marker I felt the first drop of rain. Of course. I was the furthest from the car that I could be. Wouldn’t matter if I turned around and went back or kept going forward, the distance would be the same. I kept going and smiled at a woman on a bike going the other way. We both shrugged our shoulders as if to say….”What are you gonna do when it rains, right?” I figured if she hustled she could make it back to the car before the rain truly hit. Me? Well, I ratcheted it up to hobble++.

During mile five I concentrated on getting along faster. That one rain drop had been a warning, and I knew it could be a downpour at any moment. But I stopped to take a picture of a swath of yellow flowers down in a swampy area. I don’t know what the flowers are, but I was pleasantly surprised by two duck-like birds that rose up out of them when I took my shot. I don’t know what they were either. They were the size of ducks, but were both dark. I didn’t stay to try and figure it out. Time was ticking, the clouds were rolling, and the mosquitoes were swarming every time I stopped.

Don’t know what that yellow stuff is. If you look close you can see some blurry birds flying out of the swamp.

Mile six put me back at what I now affectionately call chipmunk junction. As I approached I saw several chipmunks running from one side of the path to the other, chasing each other and having a good time. They began to scatter as I got close, but I think there were at least six of them. Lots of warnings went up as I hobbled through, and I’m sure they were glad to see the backside of me.

With two miles left to go a few more raindrops cooled my face. Just a gentle rain, as if someone knew I was hot and tired. I slowed my hobble down and smiled. And then I heard the slow flapping of something big off to my left. Something with really big wings was taking off, though I couldn’t see it. I figured it was a hawk, or maybe a crane. But a few minutes later two beautiful blue herons flew right overhead, low and slow, they were just beautiful. I smiled wider. And then, for the rest of that mile I whistled “Moon River” from our concert last Tuesday night…and eventually that made me laugh…the incongruity of a hot, sweaty, slightly overweight, middle aged woman hobbling slowly through the woods whistling while smiling at the birds.

Tempting to sit for a spell…but it’s going to rain.

When I hit the 7 mile marker, with only one mile left to go, I stopped for a second and itched the mosquito bite behind my right knee. Then I took a big breath and contemplated the long hill before me, that last mile, mostly up, and started the slow process of getting back to my car.

And out of the woods came my Mr. Bluebird, just a quick flit out to the path, a bank of brilliant wings, and he was gone. But I smiled to see him and picked up my pace.

When I hit the steepest part of the hill I upped the game to hobble++, smiling all the way. At the top of the hill, with a quarter mile to go, two flickers flew ahead of me, the white triangles on their behinds showing me the way. I stomped in celebration on the 8 mile mark painted on the path and skipped the short bit back to the car as rain beginning to fall in earnest.

Hurry! The rain is coming!

I beat the storm with my own two feet, no bike required. The lessons learned from this run? Well, definitely that two motivators are mosquitoes and impending weather. Summer is closing in fast, no doubt about it and I’m going to have to get faster…

…because I know from experience it’s hard to outrun a black fly.

Lots of these in bloom today too.


Running toward the past

Once upon a time, more than two decades ago, I joined a online group of women who wanted to run. I met some of them out at Kensington, my favorite park, and that first day we walked and ran around the lake, eight miles. We walked the uphills and ran the downhills and had a great time talking.

Today I ran behind this guy for quite awhile, but at 3 miles I turned back and he kept going.

Over the years we’ve run plenty of training runs either together in person or together in cyberspace. Plenty of races too, including several half and full marathons. We’ve even been on a few road trips to do races, those are the most fun!

And after each race or long run I’d post my ‘nature report,’ things I’d seen along the way. Even in marathons I could usually remember one thing from each mile to comment on in my race report delivered to our common website after I was home.

The cowslips and most of the trillium are gone, but I found a few still blooming.

Then, ten years ago I ended up with a stress fracture in my right foot, training for a local half marathon, and the running, for me, stopped. I stayed in touch with the group though, cheering on those who were still running, celebrating life events like children’s weddings and the birth of grandchildren too.

The group is much smaller now, but they still support my attempts to get back to running. On my 60th birthday I met some of them for a race in a small town several miles away. Some of them did a half marathon, I did the 5K and then waited to cheer them in after their race. (If you want a giggle, read the post at the link above.)

I don’t know what this is, it was about knee high, all these blossoms are connected to one stem.

Still, even after that I didn’t get back into the running groove. And time moved on.

I miss my friends, I miss the comradery of preparing for a race together, even if it is online. I miss writing my nature reports.

There’s quite a bit of this, reminds me of perennial geranium in my garden.

So a couple of months ago I registered for a local race. It’s a 10 mile race in Flint Michigan at the end of August, and I used to run it all the time – I think the first time I ran it was 1990. In the past decade I’ve run the 5 mile event, and I’ve walked the 10 mile, but I haven’t really trained to run the long, hot and humid race.

And now that I’m registered, well, I have to get cracking. So for several weeks I’ve been trying to get out the door every other day at least for a long walk. And in this past month or so I’ve been adding running bits.

This little whippersnapper passed me a couple of times. Then she’d walk and I’d pass her.

At first just a quarter within each mile. Sometimes not even that. Some days are just walk days. But this week I had a four mile run/walk where I ran the middle two quarters of each mile back to back. A half a mile each mile run.

OK, so run might not be exactly the right word. It’s not that I’m fast. But still.

Then she got further ahead and when I went around the next corner she was long gone.

Some weeks are better than others, and I’m worried that I’m nowhere near ready to do 10 miles, but I’m trying not to get injured, so I’m going slow.

I’ll be traveling a lot this summer which always makes it more difficult for me to train. But I hope that we’ll be doing lots of walking and somehow I’ll stay in shape.

Hot and sweaty but still smiling.

Once I get in shape of course.

Set the phone camera on ‘selfie’ and held it under the may-apple leaves, shooting up.


How to celebrate 60

Strong women.   Every single one of them.

Strong women. Every single one of them.

It’s certain there are about 3,500 women, mostly in this state, who are having trouble walking down stairs today. And tomorrow may be only slightly better.

If you’re not a runner you have no idea the quadricep carnage that occurred Sunday morning over in Grand Rapids the result of the Gazelle Girls half marathon and 5K, a women’s only road race. Thinking about it now, if you are a guy, this was the place to be. More than 3000 fit women dressed in running gear swarmed the city.

But that’s probably another blog.

Friends race for the finish line

Friends race for the finish line

I turned 60 on Saturday, an age I’m not too happy about. But what better way to boost my confidence, convince myself that age is just a number, that I’m not old, that it’s going to all be OK, then to run a 5K for the first time in umpteen years.

Superhero giving out high fives

Superhero giving out high fives

Many of my friends ran the half marathon (13.2 miles), but I was thrilled to be running a 5K (3.1 miles). I’ve been walking so when this race came up, a time to reconnect with many of my cyber running friends, I thought I’d throw a little jogging into the training mix and be good to go.

Superhero sees his mom coming!

Superhero sees his mom coming!

And that’s exactly what I did. I went on more walks than I might have if I wasn’t ‘training’ and I threw in some quarter miles of jogging sometimes. Maybe once a week. Or so. Surely that would be enough.

Enjoying the moment

Enjoying the moment

I didn’t carry a camera with me on my 5K race, but so many times along the route I wished I had it with me. So you’ll have to use your imagination when I tell you I followed a woman with a pink shirt that read “too inspired to be tired” most of the race. And that the shadows of a mom and her two seven year old twins followed mine. And then they caught up with me. I ran either just in front or just behind them most of the race. They were adorable. And yes… they finished before I did. Seven year olds.

Running mom into the finish line

Running mom into the finish line

You’ll have to use your imagination when I tell you many women were wearing tiaras or tutus. Or both. A majority of them were dressed in the wildly beautiful bright colors that seem to be in style these days. The shoes pounding the pavement in front of me were beautiful. I so wanted to shoot them. With a camera. Seriously. A camera.

Suddenly I was tired.  I sat on the curb and shot through the fence.

Suddenly I was tired. I sat on the curb and shot through the fence.

Pick up your feet, pick up your feet was my mantra as I kept watch of the crumbling city pavement. I’m too old, now, to fall. I could break a hip, land in a nursing home. It felt quite a bit like that’s where I should be anyway. Especially that last long uphill at the end, that final left turn toward the finish line. Pick up your feet, pick up your feet. Breath.

There was joy...

There was joy…

I went back to the hotel when I finished my race to get my camera because I couldn’t be that long without one. The photos here were taken while I was waiting for my half marathoner friends to come across the finish. There were lots of great people to watch. So many strong women. Such great family and friend support. Beautiful children excited to see their mom or sister or grandmother race by.

...there was angst.

…there was angst.

It was a wonderful way to celebrate my 60th birthday with friends who truly believe you are never old. As evidenced by our “Energizer Betty” who Sunday ran a half marathon at age 72. Who ran a marathon on her 70th birthday.

Our Betty!

Our Betty!

Who I want to be when I grow up.

Politics.  It's everywhere.  :)

Politics. It’s everywhere. 🙂

And there is one thing I know is true; 3.1 miles is a very long way to run. Thank goodness I didn’t have to do ten more!

Me and my water.

Me and my water.


WordPress photo challenge: Seasons

Here in lower Michigan we’ve been confused by the seasons. It’s supposed to be cold and snowy in February. In fact this time last year we had wind, drifts of snow, and frigid below zero temperatures.

So you can imagine our joy at the temperatures this February. And the lack of snow. Sure there are piles of it in the shadowy woods or where city trucks dump their street slush. But mostly, around here, it feels as though we dodged the winter bullet.

Temperatures in the 40’s F (4.44 C) had people running around town like it was the middle of summer. Out at the park I actually stalked a runner for this photo challenge.

I had just finished my own 3.5 mile walk/run, and was climbing into my car for the ride home when I spotted him starting out. I loved that he was wearing shorts in February and that his shirt was bright green. So I shoved the car into gear and raced to a parking lot one mile down the road, where I leaped out and trotted a ways up the path, positioning myself on a curve, pretending to take pictures of the dried up winter lake, when in fact what I wanted was him running in shorts in February in Michigan.

Warm run in February.

Warm run in February.

To show you that ‘seasons’ can’t always be predicted, and staying flexible is always important.

You can see other interpretations of this challenge at the original post. Or visit a few of my favorites here, here and here.

What season is it at your house? Please share with us, especially if it’s tropical. Because here in Michigan we know for sure that this little respite will be brief and winter will be back with a vengeance soon. So we’ll live vicariously through your photos until June or so when we can enjoy our own summer sun.

Just ignore that pile of snow.

Just ignore that pile of snow.


Active winter

Sunday afternoon at the heron rookery.

Sunday afternoon at the heron rookery.

My folks moved to Alabama when I was working in the Upper Peninsula, so I stayed behind in Michigan. I’d visit them and sometimes meet their friends. As they introduced me to people who had lived their entire lives in the South the response was almost universally horror stricken. “You live in MICHIGAN? Doesn’t it get awfully cold there? And how do you handle all that snow??

Well, yes it does get cold here, and it snows too. Sometimes a lot. But seriously, we don’t sit in our homes and mope — we get out into the fresh air and enjoy it. It’s the only way to get through the winter, to not let it get us down. Because yes it does get old.

But not this year, at least not here. Not yet.

I was out at my favorite park on Sunday and was amazed at all the activity. though I shouldn’t have been surprised. It was chilly and clouds were chasing the sun, but it was a beautiful day. So I thought I’d show you what people in Michigan do on a winter weekend. There was hardly any snow on the ground, and people didn’t want to waste a chance to enjoy some time outside.

Nice day for a long run.

Nice day for a long run.

This particular park is centered on a very large lake. There’s an eight mile (12.8k) bike/walk/run paved path around the lake, and many other miles of paths through the hills and fields including nature paths through the woods.

It’s incredibly beautiful no matter the season.

People were out doing everything you could imagine. Aside from the expected walking and running, it’s a perfect place for well socialized dogs to take their humans for an afternoon walk.

Let's get going!

Let’s get going!

And the fishing is great too, no matter the season. Lots and lots of fisher people stand on the banks of the lake and catch their supper, as evidenced by the lures tangled in the high branches of a tree above the bike path.

Remnants from last summer.

Remnants from last summer.

But this time of year it’s all about ice fishing. I can’t say I understand that sport, but I fully support a person’s right to sit out on the cold lake staring at a hole in the ice waiting for a fish to strike. It’s gotta be fun for some people. Just not me.

It's a chilly sport.

It’s a chilly sport.

On this Sunday the weather was so warm that people were out riding their bikes…

Out for a spin.

Out for a spin.

…and even inline skating.

Faster than running, more exercise than biking.

Faster than running, more exercise than biking.

It felt like spring, and I’m sure we all wish that winter was over. Of course we know it’s not — snow and cold is forecast for later this week. If the snow arrives you might not want to be out on skates or your bike, but you can still wander the nature trails and feed the birds.

Feeding the birds.

Feeding the birds.

Yes there are signs out not to feed the wildlife, but enough people hold sunflower seeds out for the little birds that they now follow nature walkers around asking for a handout. It’s a special feeling to have a wild bird flit to your finger for an instant. Especially for young kids, and those of us still young at heart.

He weighs nothing at all.

He weighs nothing at all.

Sunday there was also a large group of artists at the park, each painting their vision of the paradise that is this park. That was so special it’s going to have to go into it’s own blog. Stay tuned.

So that’s what people will do on a nice winter day at a beautiful public park way up here in Michigan. The next semi-sunny day you have during the rest of this winter head out to a park near you. I guarantee you’ll see something interesting and fun and maybe even beautiful.

Regardless of whether or not it’s cold or there is snow on the ground.

Running in shorts.  In February in Michigan.

Running in shorts. In February in Michigan.