Imagine, if you will, a film reel in your mind, spinning merrily around, giving you glimpses of every Christmas Day in your life to date. So, would that film be popcorn-worthy, perhaps a bucketful, oozing with hot butter and sprinkled with salt?
I hope you would be smiling and, if you were crying, hopefully it was because you were experiencing a flood of happy memories.
Reliving some of my memories right here in my blog.
Over the years, in my various “Stir the Memory Pot at Christmastime” blog posts, I’ve flashed back to long-ago Christmasses, while sharing photos of me clutching a new dolly as a child, to later years, where my image was captured in that same-old perpetual pose, touching the Christmas tree, thus marking the passage of another year’s time.
My parents never owned a movie camera to capture their only child’s Christmas morning wonderment, but that’s okay because they were keen on taking lots of photos, thus affording me a precious peek into my past, at Christmastime, or otherwise.
As mentioned previously, my parents encouraged me to find my creative passion, be it through music, art or photography. I’ll admit that learning to play the accordion was my father’s idea, not mine. I took lessons from age seven to ten, we had recitals and I practiced every day. After we moved to the States in 1966, the lessons ended as no accordion teachers could be found.
But, when I expressed an interest in learning to play the guitar after the guys in the Y&R Creative Department ad agency where I worked jammed with their folk guitars in between grinding out Chrysler and Plymouth ads, at Christmas 1979 I became the proud owner of a folk guitar. I took lessons for a while, but that guitar, long out of tune, languishes in the basement collecting dust, along with other hobbies I set aside through the years.
Best. Gift. Ever.
As for picking a favorite Christmas gift, if my happy face was any indication, the Betsy Wetsy baby doll I coveted and asked Santa to bring, would be right up at the top of the list, as would my Barbie doll in her shiny black case, but, as I got older and left dolls in the dust, something else piqued my interest.
Photo Source: Digital download purchased f/Vintage Charm Corner Etsy Shop
It all started when Mom gifted me HER Baby Brownie camera. It was not a gift wrapped up with a bow, nor at Christmastime – she merely handed the camera to me and said “it’s yours now Linda.”
Kodak Baby Brownie Special (1939-1954) Used with permission: Photographer John Broomfield/Museums Victoria
Mom had used the Baby Brownie for years and said she now deemed me mature enough to take care of it and, if I wasn’t reckless by taking unnecessary photos, my parents would pay for developing the film.
Here is a photo of me holding the camera, several years later, pictured with Mom and Nanny in 1969. My grandmother, newly widowed, spent that Summer at our house. Yes, at age 13, I towered over them. 🙂
As the saying goes “all good things must come to an end” and sadly, after years of being the Kodak workhorse that it always was, the Baby Brownie began to falter. I now wish I had kept it as a special keepsake, but I did not.
The Baby Brownie camera’s end of life did not end my fascination with picture-taking and my parents continued to cultivate that budding interest in photography.
The Kodak Instamatic Camera.
Because Kodak was the gold standard for easy-to-use cameras, I was given a Kodak Instamatic Camera that year for Christmas. If you’re of a certain age, you probably remember that boxy-looking camera and the Sylvania Blue Dot Magic Flash Cubes required for taking photos in low-light situations. The flash would go off and blue dots and a bright light made your eyes go wacky for a while.
Photo Source: Pinterest
While this camera worked well, the flash cubes, film and developing (via mail), which was still subsidized by my parents, became a costly venture, so, still another Christmas present a year or two later, was the Polaroid Swinger.
Photo Source: Pinterest
Meet the Swinger (the camera that is).
This camera’s TV ads touted the ease of instant picture-taking and had a catchy jingle,“Meet the Swinger, Polaroid Swinger”. It was great to skip the hassle/cost of photo development, plus it was fun to watch a photo emerge from the camera instantaneously. However, the liquid preservative brushed onto the photo afterward smelled like nail polish remover, so I was relegated to using it in the basement (“far away from the furnace Linda!”) The finished photograph’s colors seemed unnatural.
Here is a photo of me taken Christmas Day that year with the Polaroid Swinger.
Mom and Dad were not deterred by these camera/photography hiccups, so there would be a few more cameras through the years, always arriving as Christmas presents.
The Kodak Pocket Camera.
My Kodak Pocket Instamatic Camera had a built-in flash, thus eliminating the pesky flashcubes and red eyes. This little camera really promoted my interest in capturing every image I could and I had it for many years. Because my shutter-happy self was now working, I could afford to pay for photography expenses. Even after I got my 35mm camera, I continued to tote along the pocket camera as a back-up camera, since it was compact enough to tuck it into a pocket, purse or carry it in a pouch on my belt. That little camera gave me lots of joy and I was sad to finally say goodbye to it after the film door became loose allowing light into the camera.
Here I was in 1979, on a trip to England with my parents, on the River Thames, holding onto that trusty Kodak Pocket Camera.
I had to buy a cassette player for my college journalism classes in conjunction with “reporting” on the various “beats” I was assigned the last semester of my curriculum. So, in the late 70s, I began recording Christmas morning while opening our gifts, both at home and when we celebrated at my grandmother’s house. I still have those cassette tapes, but I’ve not listened to them since the last recording done in 1985.
Clearly, I am a saver, not a thrower and, admittedly the house needs decluttering, but what do you toss versus what do you keep? The basement contains a treasure trove of memories spanning over a half century.
I ventured briefly into “filmmaking” too.
For Christmas 1978, Mom and Dad bought me a movie camera, but I only used it a few times, Christmas Day (as usual) and I filmed my Creative Department coworkers at Young & Rubicam. I hope to find those reels one day and have them converted to a format to view them.
At Christmas 1980 I upgraded to a 35mm camera.
My father used a 35mm Leica he brought with him when he emigrated from Germany in 1950, but I don’t know what happened to that camera. His photographic efforts weren’t great. Mom and I were always off-center and after I was taller than Mom, most times I was missing my head or part of it.
After booking a Greece land tour/Greek Islands cruise for 1981, my parents bought me a Canon AE-1 35mm camera, along with a photography class. I was lucky because our American Express tour guide for this entire tour/cruise, Antony Sofianos, had the same camera as me, so he gave me lots of pointers. Antony often took photos of me using my camera during that two-week trip. Here we asked another tour member to get a photo of the two of us, Antony with his camera in tow, in front of the oldest olive tree in the world.
Linda and tour guide Antony – Crete (1981)
New camera lenses followed for birthday and/or Christmas presents, adding to my photography gear and soon, unlike the ease of the compact pocket camera, suddenly I found myself laden down with the camera and lens cases …
Panama Canal Cruise – Acapulco (1982)
… and eventually hauling a flash, filters, extra film, a notebook to jot down where I’d taken photos and emergency photography “rain gear” so I was soon lugging around a big camera case and my trusty pocket camera always attached to my hip.
Panama Canal Cruise – Cabo San Lucas (1982)
Some of my favorite photos were taken by the ship’s photographer who accompanied the Panama Canal cruise land tours. He took these two photos in the San Blas Islands, the first, laden down as usual with camera equipment. It was a stinkin’ hot day, with no breeze and I felt like I’d melt.
Panama Canal Cruise – San Blas Islands (1982)
Panama Canal Cruise – San Blas Islands (1982)
Life situations intervened and my last big trip was in 1983 to four Scandinavian countries and the U.S.S.R. I put the 35mm camera aside and returned to using the pocket camera until it broke and I bought my first compact digital camera.
A few months ago I went to the basement to take pictures of some of my prior hobbies, not just art supplies from a half-century ago, but also once-treasured gifts, like the aforementioned 35mm camera and guitar. I felt sad to find the 35mm camera’s leather case cracked and in disrepair. I took its photo and poked it back into the movie camera’s case where I had stored it all those years ago, thinking silica gel and two camera cases would keep it “camera-ready” for any future trips. Sadly I was mistaken, but who knew digital cameras and/or phones would become our go-to for capturing images?
The camera is pictured next to the guitar case and an old Autumn door wreath.
I stood there looking at these once-loved and coveted gifts, feeling I had somehow disrespected them, not to mention their givers.
There were also small gifts that were dear to me ….
Yes, there were other gifts along the way that were just as meaningful, some items I still have and continue to hold dear to my heart.
Then there was the farm set that I (finally) got for Christmas at age 26. This gift was a joke of sorts, because as a young girl, I asked Santa for a toy farm set one year. I had visited a family member’s farm where I got my pet rabbit “Scratch” and was enamored with the barnyard animals. Admittedly, toys in the 50s or 60s were more gender specific, i.e. girls played with baby dolls, boys with trucks and GI Joes, so it was suggested to me nicely that “little girls don’t play with farm sets” … but, lo and behold, for Christmas 1982, there was a small package under the tree with this note on Christmas stationery inside …
I remember wondering as I walked down the basement stairs what that gift could be. I was convinced it was a movie projector or screen, even though the movie camera had little mileage on it, so it must be something else for the 35mm camera since it was apparently fragile. But, it was that farm set, cleverly disguised, so I wouldn’t have jiggled the package and guessed what it was.
Yes, I saved the Christmas note Mom wrote, but why no photo of the farm set? Because my father immediately misappropriated the entire gift to use for a tank diorama he was building, his hobby.
Fast forward to Christmas 2025 ….
Speaking of gifts with multiple pieces, I bought a fun early Christmas gift for myself, an Advent jigsaw puzzle of dogs dressed in festive holiday wear. There are different types of Advent jigsaw puzzles – some are for 12 days, some 24 days and others you have a “master puzzle” and add new pieces to it every day for 24 days. I opted for doing a new, 50-piece mini-puzzle daily for 24 days.
My mom was an avid jigsaw puzzler for many years and I saved some puzzles she completed that I liked, plus others she unfortunately never got to work on. Some look very difficult and I don’t have a dedicated spot to do puzzles … maybe after I declutter the house, my #1 New Year’s resolution for 2026. In the interim, this five-inch daily mini-puzzle was perfect for me.
I emBARKED on my puzzling journey of “Christmas Paws” on December 1st …
… and this was puzzle #1.
Each puzzle takes about 15-20 minutes to complete, which is not too RUFF and yes, they are DOGgone fun.
My Christmas Eve Wordless Wednesday post will be a slideshow of all 24 completed pup puzzles, which I will entitle “Christmas Pupapalooza”, so stay tuned.
Here’s a picture of my own pup, Peppy, on Christmas Day 1964 …
Linda and Peppy the Poodle (Christmas Day 1964)
… I even turned that 50-year old photo into a vintage-looking Christmas card in 2014.
Linda and Peppy the Poodle (Christmas Day 1964)
I’ll leave you with this Christmas card with a special message about gifts tucked inside – just click here.
Terri’s Challenge this week is Winter Wonderland/Solstice, but I wanted to do my annual Christmas memories post, so I will join her Challenges again on January 4th as she has no Challenges next week.
We’re right in the thick of it … the ambience and magic of the holiday season that is. Tonight Hanukkah begins and now there are merely eleven more sleeps until Santa arrives. Bakers are bustling, mail carriers are hustling, all giving the holiday spirit great momentum.
So, logically you would assume this blog title pertains to the fractious fellow pictured above, a/k/a “The Grinch”.
But, wait a minute, not so fast! Just as you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, today’s post is NOT about the Grinch, but is about a nature walk as you will see as the post unfolds.
This post is part two of a very long April 24th walk that began at Ford Park in Dearborn, along the Rouge Gateway Trail and around the Ford Estate where I paused to photograph everything pink, from tulips to tree blossoms. If you missed it, you can find that post here.
Green abounds!
It was a very green scene that enveloped me on this meander at and around the Environmental Interpretive Center.
From the moment I stepped onto the Lakeside Trail on that beautiful Spring day, green was everywhere. The trees had just leafed out along the entire shoreline and there were exquisite reflections on Ford Lake.
I stopped to admire and photograph those reflections on water that was as smooth as glass. I did not alter the color of the water – it was all Mother Nature’s doing!
But, there was much more to see that day, where I walked six miles and was pretty pooped out by the time I reached the last leg of this meander. It was also uncharacteristically warm that day!
Lingering on Lakeside Trail at Ford Lake.
How wonderful to see color after the gloomy gray landscape that defines Winter!
The path had been freshly mulched and I padded along the trail silently. This Great Blue Heron decided to depart and, as I heard the flutter of wings, I watched that bird go airborne, legs streaming behind it, simultaneously filling the morning air with a raucous screech that could wake the dead, a noise that I believe was intended for me, a mere walker that had intruded on its thoughts. 🙂
Quite honestly, it was a lot of hullabaloo to simply fly to a nearby perch, an old log, seemingly out of my view (in its opinion anyway).
There it stood, ruffled feathers and all.
It finally settled down after giving those feathers a shake and remained there, standing tall, in an almost statuesque pose, but not for my benefit. Was it waiting for a friend, or a significant other? This Great Blue Heron might have been lacking social skills, but it made a pretty portrait, don’t you think?
Well I know I was as quiet as could be, but then it detected me – a sixth sense perhaps and off it went again, to a third spot – in the water. But I would not be deterred by this scrawny, five-pound/2.2-kilogram bird repeatedly fleeing from me, so I merely tucked myself neatly up against a tree and got a final shot of this Heron in all its lean and mean glory as it prepared to go fishing.
Up ahead I saw a chunk of partially submerged tree, a small oasis in Ford Lake, where a Red-eared Slider was sunbathing. I noted that even this old log was showing signs of new growth.
As I neared the end of Lakeside Trail, I tried to remember where to turn, so I didn’t get lost. But first, I saw another person, eyeballing the trees …
… so I waited to see if I should also train my camera on the same subject, but I saw nothing.
Perhaps he was just enjoying the green scene and a very blue sky, just like me.
I meandered along the trail, putting the camera away as I neared the building that is the Environmental Interpretive Center (“EIC”). I knew there was not much to see now, except the building and their see-through box of in-progress mushrooms.
But, as I rounded the corner, I was pleasantly surprised to find birds busy at several feeders at the side of the Center. I would have thought the EIC would stop feeding them in the Spring. I hurriedly unzipped the camera case to get a few shots of those feasting birds.
The male Red-bellied Woodpecker managed to eke out some suet from the holder …
The male Downy Woodpecker was busily filling his beak with sunflower seeds.
Well, he stole a glance at me, but food was more important than some silly photographer, so he didn’t budge.
One Blue Jay remained, gathering seeds the Downy had dropped.
There were a few more Jays at another hopper feeder, but they scattered when they saw me.
The birds at the birdfeeder reminded me of one of my favorite Christmas ornaments, a green hopper feeder with some fine-feathered friends created by Dutch artist Marjolein Bastin. It was part of her “Nature’s Sketchbook” series and we got it in 2005. We bought several ornaments by her, along with Christmas cards, over the years.
I made a mental note to get the ornament out for the holidays and take some photos of it for a Christmassy post … so here it is.
Marjolein Bastin – Nature’s Sketchbook Birds at the Feeder (front)
Marjolein Bastin – Nature’s Sketchbook Birds at the Feeder (back)
I decided to just leave it in the kitchen for the holiday season.
The EIC birds flitted off soon after my arrival, so once again I was off.
What – more birds? Well I found four more birds, those Wild Turkeys you recently “met” in my Wordless Wednesday Thanksgiving post.
Next door, University of Michigan-Dearborn adjoins the Interpretive Center. I stopped to peer into the holes of the “Block M” bee hotel, but everything was apparently still dormant.
A sign remained touting the idea of leaving your leaves for small critters instead of raking them.
There you go, some green and red NATURE colors … the lean and somewhat mean Heron, but NOT the lean, mean and green Grinch in his red Santa cap. The red “caps” belong to the Red-bellied Woodpecker and that little touch of red on the back of the head of the Downy Woodpecker which identified him as a male. Just a little nature to enjoy and help you to relax, breathe in deeply and catch your breath in this busy holiday season.
I’ll leave you with a quote: “Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty.” – John Ruskin
On the middle day of the long Memorial Day weekend, I did some Sunday strolling at Lake Erie Metropark. I’d already visited this venue several times since Spring had emerged after a too-long Winter. When I arrived it was wonderfully warmish, albeit with slightly annoying winds, but the plentiful pops of color made up for it. There were plenty of bright-green leaves, reeds and grass, plus lots of pretty wildflowers as I tripped along the Cherry Island Trail.
By the time I drove out of the Park just after noon, the wind was gusting mightily and the camera card was groaning with pics, some which I shared in last week’s post about Mama Canada Goose with her brood, but that feathered friend encounter was only a portion of the birds I saw that day, as there were also Great Blue Herons, Egrets and Ospreys. On this day, I was still checking out the Osprey family near the marina to ensure that at the first signs of new life, I would be ready to take pictures of the Osprey offspring.
The Sandhill Cranes were MIA – again.
Sadly, I only saw the pair of Sandhill Cranes once or twice this year. This is always my first pit stop each visit to this venue. They like to hang out near the Offshore Fishing Bridge, so, if I see them, I pull into the nearby lot. But the pair was a no-show again, so I parked at Cove Point and walked along the shoreline to the Osprey platform at the marina.
Mom and Pop Osprey were in residence that morning.
Unlike those occasions when the Osprey pair take off as soon as they see me, this time they stayed put, so I was able to snag a few photos of these feathered friends.
But evidently, I overstayed my welcome and my photo-taking liberties were suspended when the male departed …
… which was okay, as I was getting a stiff neck from looking up at the nest and trying not to take it personally when they scowled at me like this. 🙂
On the way back to the car, my head was swiveling left and right as I was on the lookout for Tree Swallows taking over Bluebird nesting boxes – none of that nonsense was happening though. Several Canada Geese waddled by me, but I saw no goslings to ooh and aah over at that particular time, so I moved along and headed to the other side of the park.
The wind was starting to pick up, ripping apart my messy bun and whipping strands of hair around my face and across the camera lens – sigh.
After a quick visit with Luc, I headed to the boat launch area.
I walked down the middle of the road leading to the boat launch. Along the way there were some reeds already greening up in the marsh which had still looked blah and lackluster on my previous Springtime visits.
I guess I should not have been surprised to see areas of the marsh that were still dried up from the Summer of 2024. As you know from a recent post, many of the marshes continued to be dry from our moderate drought conditions this past Summer.
I glanced back at the boathouse and Luc’s enclosure, all aglow with the fresh green colors of Springtime.
I wondered if anyone lived in this old stump cavity, or perhaps it was a hidey-hole for squirrels playing hide-and-go-seek?
I usually walk along the overlook, but since it was crowded with anglers on this holiday weekend, as mentioned above, I walked in the middle of the road, dodging the occasional boat-hauling truck, often with a dog hanging its head out the window and barking furiously at me. From this vantage point I could see the marshes on both sides at the same time, since you can’t always exit the overlook onto land in a hurry. I was glad I did this since the marsh had a few hungry egrets and herons and I was hungry for photo ops.
This Egret was a go-getter …
… and, I watched as the wind ruffled its feathers, diminishing its usual streamlined appearance.
It was a beautiful day to capture reflections, here with almost a mirror image …
… that is, until the pesky stick marred that peaceful-looking, perfect reflection. At least no feather gel was needed here for either reflection photo.
The Heron strutted its stuff …
… until it found a fish, focused and soon captured it in that long bill. The picture’s a bit blurry as I was standing on uneven ground and shook a little just as its bill clamped shut. Ouch – poor fishy!
Down at the boat lunch, the flags were flapping in the wind.
I was not surprised to see several small boats out and about and, along the shoreline, I saw this bulk carrier ship and a fishing boat, which, from my perspective, looked a little close for comfort, in my opinion anyway. Look at the different shades of water here. Hmm. I didn’t notice that when I took the photo.
After wending my way along the trail, enjoying the view and the warm sun on my face, I stopped when I saw purple peeking out from the long grass. Wildflowers – perfect! Even more perfect would be bees and butterflies, that is, if it wasn’t too early for those delicate winged creatures.
There were wildflowers aplenty.
The prettiest were the purple-colored Dame’s Rocket, which I found all along the Cherry Island Trail. They look like Phlox, but before you’re tempted to take a “snip” for your home garden, Dame’s Rocket are considered invasive. Oh well, I guess I’ll just enjoy them here then.
I saw the first butterfly of the season, a Painted Lady, which unfortunately was not sipping nectar from a Dame’s Rocket, but instead had landed on the ground and perched upon a ratty-looking Maple seed. Perhaps the wind was messing with it alighting on the blossoms, so it was safer bet to flit down to the ground. Besides, there’s no coaxing a butterfly where you want it to go. Sweet talkin’ doesn’t work and I had no butterfly treats, so I moved along.
Also in abundance were Wild Daisies, or, if you really want to be botanically correct, they are known as Philadelphia Fleabane. Personally, Wild Daisies is my preference for these perky Spring blooms.
The turtles were sunbathing.
I hope they brought their sunscreen as it was almost high noon and they were lined up peacefully on this log, glad to be above water and soaking up the sun. After a long, cold Winter spent far beneath the water’s surface, I’m sure the turtles cannot bask enough in the sun’s rays. They seemed to be a content lot, lined up, perhaps by seniority, just taking in the scenery, occasionally stretching out one long, leathery-looking leg.
If you wonder what peace looks like, look no further. As poet Walt Whitman told you in his poetry collection entitled “Leaves of Grass”: “Peace is always beautiful.”
This particular sunning log is also used by my favorite pair of photogenic and accommodating-for-picture-taking Mallards, but they were likely miffed by the turtles overtaking their favorite spot. I’m sure they found another log to be with one another, glad for the warmer temps that will make their lives more bearable.
This little alcove is also the end of the Cherry Island Trail, so I headed to the car, feeling like the wicked wind could roll me like a tumbleweed, instead of merely plodding along on two feet. I checked a weather site later and learned the gusts were nearly 20 mph during my visit.
For some reason, some of my comments on your posts are going to your SPAM file. I haven’t a clue why, but if I “like” a post and there’s no comment there, that is why.
It’s the last day of Thanksgiving weekend – holiday #1 is in the books and now it is full steam ahead to the festive holidays of Hanukkah and Christmas.
If you’re exhausted and in need a smile, here’s a wee dose of cuteness to help you chill.
On Memorial Day weekend, Sunday, May 25th, I took a very long stroll at Lake Erie Metropark, a stroll so long and full of photo ops, that I am going to divide those pics into more bite-sized pieces.
Spring had sprung and everything was fresh and green, with wildflowers everywhere – you’ll see those pics next Sunday, but this post will be all about a Canada Goose and her brood.
As I tootled along the Cherry Island Trail, I came upon Mama Canada Goose and her goslings snacking on long grass. Papa Goose was nowhere to be found – whew! Happily, I knew I would be spared the glares, wing-flapping and hissing, the usual histrionics directed to humans. But always remember that Mama Goose may be a force to be reckoned with as regards her babies.
Mama saw me strolling slowly toward them and suddenly grazing came to an abrupt halt. She turned around, then began marching down the marshy bank. She didn’t honk or make a single noise, but guided her four goslings in a neat queue to the edge of the water.
Talk about eat and run! A long strand of grass was still hanging from Mama’s bill.
I kept a respectable distance away, half-expecting the family to wade into the marsh, distancing themselves from me, but they stayed there at the water’s edge. I guess Mama was confident that this intruder that interrupted their mid-day meal was not going to harm them and she finally swallowed that grass.
With only sparse grass to chow down on, the family meandered along the marsh edge …
… with a nibble here or there, kind of like you’re doing with your holiday leftovers.
Since it was too early to swim after eating 🙂 …
… Mama began to preen, stretching out each wing in a flared-out fashion, affording me a look at the wing’s intricate feather structure and various textures. She caught me peeping at her and put that wing down, but I still got this shot.
Since Mama was occupied, the goslings began to roam, their oversized, wide-webbed feet skimming the murky marsh water, then they headed straight to the mud. I thought “oh, don’t do that kids – you’ll get filthy!” I pictured those still-downy-soft bodies soon speckled with mud, but surprising, I only saw a single mud splatter on this little guy or gal.
And, of course, no gosling post is complete without a shot of their wiggle butts.
I likened the goslings to kids that like to splash in mud puddles. Not this kid though, as I was warned about ruining my shoes by traipsing through water and/or mud. In fact, I had a pair of slip-on galoshes that went over my shoes – Mom called them “puddlers” and I hated those things! The hard vinyl had a funky smell and scraped against my ankles, but yes, my feet stayed warm and dry, thus preserving my shoes.
Papa Goose was a slacker that day as he never did show up to give me the business. I moved on from the cutie pies and visited other areas of the park where Spring had already erupted.
I hope this dose of cuteness gets you through the post-holiday(s) daze.
On Thursday many of you will gather with loved ones and friends to give thanks for food and other blessings.
As we ease into Thanksgiving week, I want to update you on MY “family” of furry and feathered friends at Council Point Park in a very long and picture-laden post.
If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you already know I am nuts about squirrels.
Over the years I’ve regaled you with holiday posts about my wild “pets” after giving them Thanksgiving treats, then taking photos. Sometimes the squirrels were picky, snagging peanuts first, then begrudging chomping on a corn cob and/or sinking their front teeth into a mini pumpkin. One Thanksgiving I even made them pecan pies, (ground walnut pie shells filled with loose pecans and pecan suet – yes, I skipped the whipped cream).
But I, the “Peanut Lady” will tell you that peanuts still rule, whether you’re a squirrel, Cardinal, Blue Jay or a Woodpecker. 🙂
Squirrels are savvy.
The squirrels are all about food-gathering this time of year. That stashing-nuts-away phase began once the weather got cooler and their brains began clicking … “gotta get my nut stash ready for Winter.” That mindset, along with Mother Nature providing them a thicker coat of fur and an extra layer of fat, prepares them for the cold Winter ahead. Soon those streamlined bodies morphed into waddling, rotund ones. But the squirrels are still quick on their feet, especially once peanuts enter the picture. I assist the “squirreling-away” process by doling out peanuts. Like clockwork, by mid-September, peanuts are no longer savored one after the other; instead, the ratio of peanuts buried in the ground versus gobbled down greatly increases.
So, this year, it was no different for me feeding my furry friends extra peanuts to prepare them for the long, lean days, when snow and ice will likely cover up those stored goodies, or I must forego a walk due to slick road conditions.
The year 2025 comes with a disclaimer.
Life goes on in the Park and, even though it’s not as abysmal there now as it was in 2024, my favorite nature nook still lacks ambiance, not to mention wildlife. There are less furry friends, i.e. after a dozen years of feeding a clan of squirrels 40+ strong on a daily basis, at most 15-18 furry friends are clamoring for peanuts now. The Jays, Cardinals and Rex the Red-bellied Woodpecker are back, but Harry the Heron is MIA. Canada geese still roam about, but Mallard sightings are rare, though I hear quacks from time to time.
As you know, I lost most of my squirrels over the Winter of 2024 – 2025 for reasons not clear to me. I still believe they starved or froze to death when we had weeks and weeks of bitter-cold weather, two Polar Vortex events and excessive ice and snow so they couldn’t access food and I never made it to the Park for weeks. I am now the only person that feeds the squirrels – sadly the others have passed away or just quit feeding them.
In March, after I was aghast seeing just a couple of squirrels at the Park instead of the usual “Munch Bunch” fellow walker Henry’s cruel response was that “eagles or coyotes got ‘em”, a statement that hurt my heart and upset me greatly. I dispute that theory – yes, a couple of squirrels may have become prey, but squirrels are savvy and once they’ve witnessed one of their own lifted up by huge talons, or in the mouth of a coyote, they’d think twice about venturing out for food with a predator around and thus remain in the nest.
Recently that same walker said “hey, I gotta show you this” …
… and whipped out his phone to show me a picture of a Cooper’s Hawk perched in a tree near the pavilion and suggested predators are still around “to nab ’em” – sigh. I was tempted to say “do you get a perverse delight in telling me these things?” but I held my tongue.
I told him Cooper’s Hawks have been trolling the Park for a long time. I’ve got posts with photos of them – they are even in the neighborhood. They are my furry friends’ nemesis, but I repeat – the squirrels are still not stupid.
Why I stayed away for 95 days.
I walked sporadically at the Park in April and May, but the final straw was over Memorial Day weekend when I saw only one squirrel. Then, there was sewer construction, with concrete sewer pipes strewn about the Park and heavy vehicles had overtaken the parking lot. I decided not to return until the construction was over. Dutifully, I drove past the Park once each week and when the mess was gone and the big hole in the parking lot was paved over, I returned.
I may have abandoned the Park and its meager inhabitants for three months, but that was not an easy decision. Had I continued walking there, I would have forced myself to walk to/from the Park, feeding the critters, no matter how hot/humid/smoky it was. I would have been more accountable to them AND to myself, but instead I was angry. Countless times I have walked in similar weather conditions in the past, never giving it a second thought. Walking in the ‘hood was not the same, so regrettably I stopped walking for many days.
My return to Council Point Park was the Friday before Labor Day, a date I chose since it was the Friday before Labor Day in 2011 when I began my walking regimen.
It was 95 days since I last walked on the perimeter path, and to be honest, I both dreaded what I’d see, but I had to know … would there be any squirrels or birds to interact with? Had the shoreline been planted with native plants, the plan that was to happen after the savage destruction of the shoreline and habitats of the waterfowl, birds and squirrels on May 8, 2024 and documented here.
Whiskers in the wind.
With much trepidation, while toting a large bag of unsalted “people peanuts”, the critters’ favorite fare, I returned to Council Point Park on August 29th after the aforementioned absence of 95 days. Mentally I prepared myself for what I would see. I didn’t take the camera, choosing to focus on them and our potential interaction, rather than picture-taking. I felt like I’d been away forever, this special place where I have walked a million steps and taken thousands of photos of the venue and its inhabitants through the years, this place where I renewed my interest in photography.
That first day I saw three squirrels: a female Fox Squirrel came bounding over to me right away and parked herself at the tip of my walking shoe, one front paw placed on top. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as she studied me. I swear this is Parker’s mate, whom I had dubbed “Penelope” and I had even written a fun post about Penelope and Parker when I first saw them together – you can find that post here.
Penelope was not timid at all and I lavished peanuts on her. Another Fox squirrel bolted when I encountered him along the path and a black squirrel scrambled up a tree but finally came down after I coaxed him with my open palm filled with peanuts and some sweet talkin’.
Like the expression “two out of three ain’t bad” I breathed a sigh of relief that some vestiges of my favorite nature nook were intact, even if those “promised” native plants to be planted by the Friends of the Detroit River were absent and in their stead were weeds, some towering way over me. I saw no waterfowl in the Creek, but its water was blackish and the water level was low that day. Ugh!
I walked the perimeter path a few more times, but no squirrels (or birds) came to see me then. As I walked home, I was positive, even hopeful, that my daily walks would improve over time.
The next day I returned with my camera.
Yes, I couldn’t resist. The day before I noticed those familiar trees that always turned color early and had subtle shades of yellow and red were showing some promise, despite our moderate drought conditions.
I walked one time around, feeding what had now become six squirrels. I mused that the “Town Crier” had spread the word that “The Peanut Lady” had returned and maybe a few squirrels from the ‘hood had been alerted as well since they all rushed toward me.
Yes, as corny as it sounds, my heart was full after hearing the familiar sounds of peanut shells falling to the ground and even those noisy Blue Jays screeching to their brethren to come and scam peanuts from the squirrels.
It was noisy, yet peaceful, if that makes sense.
After walking one loop, I was ready to take pictures which you see below.
The Mulberry bushes, mowed down by the initial devastation, once provided sustenance to the critters, but now, in my absence, it was black walnuts …
… and acorns.
Some things always stay the same, like the homeowner that lives on the fringe of the Park and plants sunflowers every year. They’re good for photo ops of bees and goldfinches.
I was sure the fir tree planted by one of the walkers in 2024 had grown an inch – will anyone decorate it this year? The background is the side of the Park that looks half-decent and was not demolished like the other side.
The City and Friends of the Detroit River planted 20 new trees this year. A few replaced the memorial trees that were lost in the Creek-widening effort and there was a new memorial tree.
The shoreline was still raggedy-looking …
… but the Sumac leaves were already tinged with red, an occurrence that always happens in August.
The Pokeberries added some color to the shoreline – birds can eat them without getting sick, but they are harmful to mammals.
The Goldenrod was still vibrant …
… the Teasels not so much.
The Milkweed pods were plump and hopefully will attract Monarchs next year.
A bee was busy in the Thistle …
… while other Thistles had turned to fluff.
How about some “wildlife” photos?
On this second day back walking, I was amused to see there were already great expectations times two – the second one is Penelope.
An Eastern Gray squirrel’s interest was piqued by what else, but peanuts.
It cautiously approached them, mindful of my presence, then made the grab …
… and, as it munched happily, I told it “see that wasn’t so bad and I didn’t bite!” Must’ve been a “newbie”.
A black squirrel scrambled up a tree initially, then paused, eyes homing in on the peanuts – we had played this same game the day before.
Moments later it bravely descended, I suspect not to hurt my feelings. 🙂
It quickly scrambled back up the tree soon thereafter – must have been another “newbie” at the Park.
Much to my delight Penelope wandered over and …
… gave me the once-over, then …
… headed toward my shoe.
A big dog loped by, off leash, which sent her running for cover. I waited on the path until the dog was gone and her heart stopped beating out of her chest and she joined me again. I gave her some peanuts and said “hold that pose!” I forgot to say “please” but she accommodated me anyway.
There was one more cute pose, which reminded me of Parker … what a ham!
Near the pavilion, at one of the memorial trees that remained unscathed by the munching metal monsters, a squirrel eyed me (or peanuts) in some amusing photos.
Things have definitely gotten better ….
In the following weeks, there were more squirrels, mostly black squirrels and now often too many to count during my walks. That pleases me.
Since litters of kits emerge from the nest some 12 weeks after they’re born, I suspect the influx of black squirrels in the last six weeks are kits that have emerged from the nest.
Every day I see more of the sweet and inquisitive Eastern Gray squirrels and we now have about eight Fox squirrels, all eager to interact and chow down. Perhaps I have retained my crown of Squirrel Whisperer too?
But, will there be enough squirrels to mate and produce more youngsters? Time will tell.
What about my fine-feathered friends?
These days the Blue Jays are all over the Park greedily snatching peanuts from the little piles I leave at trees or right where my furry friends park themselves. There are now two female Cardinals and they will come down, but after I leave – the males always were braver, but I hear the Cardinal tweets and look up and often see them all watching me. I’ve been toting along my camera some days, but I’ve not gotten any pics yet of the Jays, Cardinals or even Rex, the Red-bellied Woodpecker, who similarly does a swoop and snatch for a peanut. I’ve heard the Chickadees singing as well, so I’m now toting chopped loose peanuts and sunflower seeds again. It’s easier to take a group shot of everyone feeding as they all congregate in the snow. Hopefully those photos can happen this Winter.
Sometimes I’ve sweetened the pot by adding trail mix onto the perimeter path, or tucking some peanuts into a pumpkin someone has set out.
The trees are finally bare, their leaves littering the ground and the now very roly-poly squirrels rustle them as they race over. Sometimes I must put on my rose-colored glasses when visiting this venue to remain positive.
If you’re still here, thank you for sticking with this exceptionally long post – next week’s post will be short and sweet (emphasis on sweet).
I’ll leave you with a poem which portions are the various titles for one of my favorite series of books by James Herriot and a PBS series I am enjoying, soon to begin Season Six: “All Creatures Great and Small”.
“All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all. ~Cecil Frances Alexander
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 