I bet you all know that Michigan is shaped like a mitten, but did you know there is a grindstone cemetery of sorts at the tip of the thumb?  Grindstone City was named in 1870 for the large grindstones that were mined and shaped there, then shipped throughout the country.  You can read more about the city in this short historical essay. (The picture above was borrowed from this website)

As a youngster I stood with my Dad along the shore of Lake Huron at the tip of Michigan’s thumb among huge grindstones that had been dumped there years and years ago.  I’ve held this vague memory for decades, and last weekend I stood in the same place again, feeling Dad with me, as my husband and I explored  the shoreline until we found the grindstones.

It amazed me that the grindstones were still resting on the shore much the way I remembered.  To think they’ve been there all these years…that I didn’t know exactly where we’d been more than 40 years ago and yet here I was again feeling the same sense of history and wonder I’d had as a kid.

I walked among the grindstones, touching the rough surfaces, the square holes in the centers, thinking about the people who had made these stones, and wondering about the reasons these particular stones had ended up as defects on the shores of the big lake.

The sun was warm on our shoulders, the water lapped peacefully near our feet, the stones offered up their stories silently.  I could easily have sat on the warm stones imagining history and remembering that trip with my Dad all afternoon.

Just another place that holds a piece of my heart.