Boreal Forest

The boys went on a trip with their youth group last Thursday through Saturday so Steve and I took that opportunity to have our first vacation alone in over ten years. We headed north, north to the woods, north to the rivers. Specifically, we went to the Pine River in northern Michigan, about a six hour drive.

Thursday afternoon we set up camp (the Taj Mahal) next to the river in Manistee National Forest and purchased a permit to canoe the Pine River for the following day.

Then we headed even further north. First stop was at the Cherry Hut in Beulah for some world famous cherry pie. We would have avoided it as a tourist trap except we read about it in the Sunday magazine. As we were walking to our table, I had a close encounter with Michigan's Governor Granholm as she was leaving; yes, I ran right into her. I'm just glad it happened on the first day of the trip instead of the last day, as primitive camping means primitive bathing.

And then on to our destination - Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

"From here you can see several of the National Lakeshore's key features including the Sleeping Bear Dunes and the Manitou Islands. The names of these features have their origin in American Indian legend. Ojibway Indians tell of a mother bear with two cubs on Lake Michigan’s far shore. Forced into the lake by a forest fire, they tried to swim across but the cubs tired and drowned just short of this shore. The saddened mother climbed a high bluff, turned, and lay down to watch for her cubs. Manitou, the Great Spirit, took pity and reclaimed the cubs, transforming them into the Manitou Islands. He saved the mother as the Sleeping Bear Dune, still watching her cubs."

The little signs mark the restricted nesting area for the endangered piping plovers. They nest on this little spit of land plus one place on Lake Superior. The last time we were here with the boys, a researcher was watching the nests with a telescope and she let us look at the nests and birds. Since then we have followed the fate of these shore birds with interest.

Steve was making interesting patterns in the wet sand as the sun set. Our pockets were full of rocks. I started it and when my pockets were so full I had use both hands to hold my shorts up, Steve asked me what I was going to do with them. I explained my idea for a water feature in the garden using the rocks we have collected on vacations through the years. He then started collecting the most interesting rocks.

Friday morning we got up early and staged the canoes for a four hour paddle down the Pine River. I can't describe the beauty of this river as it cuts through the pine forest, sand dunes and flower-filled meadows. The current is fast with some white water to make it challenging. Well, it challenged me enough that I ended up in it. I made a mistake and scared us both, but emerged unscathed. We came across four biologists studying the fish population since the removal of the dam and creation of a quarter mile riparian buffer zone. The result is a very scenic and fast river, and improved fish population.

Saturday morning we broke camp and drove an hour north to canoe the Platte River, a fast and gentle river that dumps into Lake Michigan. It was crowded but there still were stretches of solitude.

The end of the Platte River and the beginning of a great lake. The end of our brief vacation and the beginning of the drive home.

Bedtime

Semi-annual ER Trip
Last night I was determined to get to bed at a reasonable hour, but at 8:30 Ricky came in the house from playing catch with his brother. Ricky was bent double, moaning and holding his nose. Yup, that bloody nose was already swelling and turning blue. His brother throws a mean fast ball. Luckily, Ricky slowed it a little with his glove before he stopped the ball with his nose. Off to the ER. It's not a good thing when you recognize the ER doctor. She thought for sure it was broken but the x-ray did not confirm it. We came home with a diagnosis of Nose Contusion. It looks better tonight, so he and his brother will be leaving in the morning for a three day trip with the youth group to Kings Island. I may let you know what hubby and I do while they are gone.

Fourth on the River

Fourth on the River
We took the paddlewheel boat downriver to Leo-Cedarville to watch their fireworks last night. There was a thunderstorm watch and the sky looked ominous as we launched with drinks, snacks and raingear. As we plopped downstream (plop goes the paddles), other boats joined us, including two Amish boys on a jet ski (!) and an overloaded pontoon of Amish. It never did rain, but the front brought in welcome cooler temperatures. We anchored at the edge of a river bend with a direct view of the fireworks launch and waited two hours for the fireworks to start. There were wild pink roses blooming on the shore, frogs croaking and herons flying overhead. To pass the time, we played Independence Day 20 questions. Since there was a theme, it started out pretty easy, but dh Steve stumped us with aluminum dust which is used in fireworks. I then stumped them with "Red, White and Blue" because they did not expect colors.

I wasn't too successful with my digital camera, but a few interesting shots are posted below. The reflection of the fireworks in the water was a double treat, but I couldn't capture it too well with the camera. The other cool thing about watching fireworks in the river is the sound of the booms traveling up the river valley. It sounded like jet fighters as the sound traveled in the distance.

After the smoke from the grand finale dissipated, we let the other boats leave and then slowly paddled upstream, with all hands looking for logs -- floaters, deadheads. Several boats had powerful spotlights for this purpose, but we have better luck getting our night vision and doing it with only the dim light of the night.

Some type of alien creature was spotted over the Saint Joseph River last night. 

I tried using the night feature of my digital camera for the first time last night. How did I get this dimensional shot?  

Bluer than blue 

What type of flower is this?  

These were the first pictures I saw of my sons, in April of 1995. They were five years old and Ricky had already lost his baby teeth.  

Ten Years Ago Today

Ten Years Ago Today
This is part of the story I told my sons for years about this day, ten years ago.

Early Saturday morning, Daddy and I loaded into the Explorer; remember the blue Explorer? We had a two hour drive ahead of us, all the way down to Indy. As we drove, I kept asking Daddy, "What will my first words be to my sons?" You see, most mothers coo over newborns and welcome them into the world. I had to figure out what to say to five year olds. Were you as scared as I was? Sometimes my stomach would hurt and I teased your Daddy that I was having morning sickness and contractions all in the same morning.

The day before was my 25th anniversary at the place I worked then. Daddy took the day off and joined me for the celebration and we went home at noon. Shortly afterwards, Sue called us. Remember Sue? She was your favorite social worker and a wonderful woman. She asked if we wanted to meet Ricky and Ronnie the next day. What? We had not been interviewed by her; we had not heard anything about you for over a month; we only had sketchy background. We knew you were five year old fraternal twins ready to be adopted, but there were many families interested in adopting you. No wonder! We talked to Sue, we talked to your foster parents, and we said YES! YES! YES!

We got there early because we so wanted to meet you. We had to drive around for a while before we went to your foster home. We pulled in, knocked on the door and Helen answered. She is another special woman in your life. How lucky you were to be in her home since you were infants. We walked in and I saw you, but I was still chit-chatting with Helen. I was nervous, I suppose. Both of you were playing with toys in front of the TV across their large family room.

I knelt down and you, Ricky, came running at me full speed ahead. You almost bowled me over! I grabbed you in my arms, stood up, and swung around as you gave me one of your famous hugs. My first words to you? As we hugged, I whispered in your ear, "I love big hugs."

While I was hugging you, precious Ricky, your Daddy was getting to know Ronnie. We switched boys and he came over to you while I walked over to Ronnie.

Ronnie, you were much more reserved. I now know that this is your personality. You observe, you think, and then you act. So I sat on the couch and you sat on the footstool looking at me. Then you smiled. My first words to you? I leaned forward and gently touched your dimples, "You have dimples just like Steve." This pleased you a lot and you broke into your beautiful grin.

We brought you a gift. A book for each of you, inscribed with your name, the date and "Love, Mommy and Daddy." It was a book of Bible stories and you learned every story and, Ricky, it was the book that you learned to read first. You absorbed those stories and amazed your Sunday School teachers with your knowledge.

We went to a nearby park and played. Daddy and Ricky played catch while Mommy played catch Ronnie as you dashed from swing, to slide, to fort. You were everywhere. And you were so happy playing. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the temperature mild. It was a golden day in every way.

Then we went to find some food in the small town outside of Indy where you lived. Ronnie, you directed us right to a pizza place. Later I learned that you had never been there! That was our first experience, Ricky, of trying to encourage you to eat. You were more than a picky eater; you just wouldn't eat anything. Your foster mother had told us about it and we learned she wasn't exaggerating. On the way out, we let you play a basketball video game. You randomly hit the controls and squealed with joy.

We took you back to your foster home and arranged to have you spend Monday night with us in your forever home. It was hard saying goodbye but I knew I would hold you again in a few days. And that's another story.

Crocs

Crocs
Thanks to this working woman, my feet are clad in crocs. Unfortunately, the only ones the store had in my size were not in my color. So my baby blue feet may look weird, but they feel great. They should be nice on the river boat and in the garden. I'm already in the habit of slipping them on when I need to run outside. As I continued to run errands, I saw two other women wearing crocs, although both were in a sedate beige. My feet just scream, "Look at me!"

A book club friend called me this morning for my advice on this swarm of honey bees her son just found in their front yard. Since I read "The Secret Lives of Bees" and "A Country Year," I became interested in having a few hives of these interesting, beneficial and productive insects. I got a few more books from the library and talked to several beekeepers, but did not have time this spring to start the hives and was not prepared to help her. She called a beekeeper who tried coaxing them into a box. Because wild or feral honeybees were almost wiped out due to varroa mites, this was a very unusual and interesting event.

Honey bees 

Memories

Charmed Memories
I picked up one of the books I brought home from Mom's and found a note with a quote from the book in her handwriting:

"Good memories are like charms, Nicky. Each is special. You collect them, one by one, until one day you look back and discover they make a long, colorful bracelet."

And a cheerful planter  

And an old rose - Empress Josephine - created by Napoleon for his true love. 

Here are a few pictures from my cultivated garden - the clematis has gone crazy this year. 

Here's a (much) closer shot of the milkweeds. What an intricate flower and so fragrant. I saw a monarch flitting around but it didn't want to stay around to get its picture taken.  

And then we looked down from the tree and saw the milkweeds in bloom next to the pond. 

Here's what each leaf looked like but imagine the shadows constantly dancing. It was magical. 

Hubby and I were sitting in the shade of the maple tree next to the pond. Sunlight was shining through the leaves from the top with a dancing reflection from the pond underneath. It's hard to describe and I found it even harder to capture on film. Light and movement. Perhaps I should learn how to use the video capabilities of my new digital camera.

Scooby Do

I live in Scooby-Doo Land
Why? Because one son is so proud of his whiskers that he doesn't want to shave. He looked just like Shaggy...until yesterday. Shaving was a prerequisite for attendance at the Wizard's ballgame.

Insect ID

Insect Identification
While vacuuming the pool this afternoon, I discovered a surefire way to identify one insect. Just disturb its nest. The insect? Wasps. I have a sting on my face, my side and my back. Ouch!

Plant ID

Plant Identification
While weeding around my hostas yesterday, I discovered a surefire way to identify one plant. Just try to pull it. The plant? Stinging nettle.

Here's a closer shot of the rose. It is Harison's Yellow (with one r), also called the Pioneer Rose since it can be found along the trail all the way to Oregon.

And the rest of the story? The year after we rescued the slip of rose from the grasses, the farmer cut down the tree, filled in the cistern and planted the knoll in soybeans.

About ten years ago, Steve and I camped under a massive oak tree on a knoll in the middle of a cornfield behind a friend's farmhouse. We found a cistern and two yellow roses, all that remained of the original homestead. The current farmhouse was over 100 years old, so the roses were at least that old. The roses were a clear yellow with a wonderful scent, so I talked Steve into digging a start out of the waist high prairie grass. I planted that little slip in my garden, next to the front walk - my prized heirloom rose. It slept that first year and the next year it crept with a few blooms. The third year, it lept. As you can see, this rampant rose grew over the gutters of the house and made it practically impossible to get to the front door. I banished it to the Highlands (tree farm) when we remodeled and this spring I brought over several starts to plant along the fence in the wildflower meadow --far, far from the house. 

Here's one of two containers I designed for my talk last night at Lowes. It was given away as a door prize. I sure wish I could have brought it home. The focal point, of course, is the stargazer lily with its magnificent scent, but there is an attractive coleus behind it to take the star role once the lily passes its peak. Other plants (clockwise) are trailing gray-green sedum, white Catharanthus commonly called Vinca in the midwest, siskiyou pink, and then on the back is the coleus and bright pink "vinca" the color of the dots in the lily. The container is a glazed ceramic jardiniere.

Since June 5, I have

Since June 5, I have...
Last Saturday we buried our parents' ashes in Leesburg Cemetery. We discovered that my grandfather bought 8 plots in 1932 and only four were used. We buried them together in beautiful walnut boxes which my husband made. The service was very touching as each family member shared a memory of Dad and of Mom and then sprinkled a shovel of dirt over the boxes.

Aunt Katharine, my Dad's sister from Oregon, came for the service. At 86 years old, I was concerned that we would wear her out, but she is as spry, alert, inquisitive, and active as someone much younger. It was so hard to say good-bye, as I don't know when I will see her again.

Before her visit, I went into a cleaning frenzy. It started with my new pantry which required cleaning and rearranging my kitchen cabinets. Then I did some painting and decided to take down every picture in the house and rearrange them. All the windows are sparkling, at least they were last week. I found room for about 100 books from my mother's estate by weeding out some books and removing non-book items from some shelves. And the list goes on.

This week I've devoted my time to three volunteer projects that were on hold until after Aunt Katharine's visit: a newsletter for a nonviolence charity, a brochure for the church about small groups and an hour talk at a big box about container gardening as part of my Master Gardener hours. The talk is tomorrow and I'm still organizing it. I get to go through the garden center and select the containers, soil and plants to use for the demonstration. I'm a little nervous about it but it should be fun.

The boys started drivers ed this week. The first two weeks are classroom and the third week is driving. Next week they get to start correspondence classes for high school credit. That foray into homeschooling should be interesting.

And all the while my garden grows. The weeds are growing but I'm fighting that battle slowly.

Hello, Mom?

Hello, Mom? I'm just calling to chat.

This is what I miss most now, just chatting about daily life, asking her questions, getting her opinion, learning what made her laugh recently, hearing about the editorial she cut out of the paper. Here's what I'd talk to Mom about today.

What do you think of that color I painted my pantry and kitchen wall? What would you say the color is? Spice? Brick? She would nail it perfectly and perhaps talk about bold use of color. Consulting with Mom about feathering my nest has been a 30 year habit. She was always interested in what I was doing.

Taste these new lemon cookies Ricky and I baked for his class project. Nice flavor but do you think there is too much shortening? How would you modify the recipe? Wouldn't it be good as a base for a fruit tart? Mom was a great cook - I know everyone says that about their Mom, but she really was. Some of the memories my childhood friends shared after her death involved her baking. She collected recipes and cookbooks and even in the 50s and 60s would serve us international food. The meals she served were thoughtful as to nutrition, presentation and taste.

I just finished a very interesting book. Do you want to borrow it so we can discuss it? It's called Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi. Mom was one of the most intelligent people I've ever known and, on top of that, she was wise and wry. Over the years, we've shared books and shared ideas from books. Sure, there are others I can do this with, but they're not my mom.

Mom, did you see the new pantry that Steve built for me? I created a roll-in space for my sweeper just like you had in Arkansas. She would have been pleased that I noticed and copied one of her creative ideas. She did things that I've not seen anywhere else, just because they made sense to her. In the two houses she built (1950s and 1980s), she held her own with the cabinetmakers and insisted on a baking counter that was lower than standard height to make it easier to knead bread, roll out pastry and mix dough. So what if it affected resale value and just wasn't done? This was her kitchen.

Oh Mom, there are so many other things to talk about - our gardens, politics, the boys. No wonder our phone conversations rarely ended before an hour had passed.

Maudlin Goodbyes

Not very maudlin
Ricky went to a swim party last night and Ron stayed home while Steve and I cooked dinner over a campfire at the River. Around 8:30, Steve called Ron. All was fine and as Steve was hanging up, he turned to me and said, "Well, no maudlin good-byes from that son."

The phone immediately rang. It was Ron, who had heard Steve speak as he hung up and wondered if he missed anything. Steve looked at me with a glimmer in his eyes, "I just said that I love you."

"Oh. Good-bye then," was Ron's unmaudlin response.

Ditch Driving

Ditch Driving
Both boys have their driver's permits and they flashed them around at church to anyone who even might be remotely interested in this milestone. No one sees my drivers' license: the picture! the weight! the birthdate!

Last weekend Steve gave each boy a short driving lesson, mostly on deserted country roads, although one boy had to pass an Amish buggy. The same boy had to drive about 300 yards on a state highway to turn into our river property. Someone was following him and it flustered him when he had to turn into the driveway. He took the turn too quickly and drove into the ditch. Steve was able to drive out of the ditch without a problem. The boy was astonished that Steve just chuckled and wasn't upset.