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Morning in late summer over our local wetlands.
To see more interpretations of ‘morning’ click on the link above. Or, check out a few of my favorites (so far) here, here and here.
And this one too.
Author Archives: dawnkinster
Lunch with Mom
Home
But we weren’t like that. We rarely shopped together, neither of us were really into it. We didn’t meet for lunch at little coffee shops, though she made all of us lunch thousands of times at home. No, we weren’t the stereotypical mother/daughter. Plus she lived in Alabama. I lived in Michigan. Each visit I made was a big deal, a family reunion. Something she’d plan for weeks.
An event.
The hellos were wonderful, full of anticipation of time spent on the lake or around the table, all of us together. The goodbyes were heart wrenching, never knowing how long until the next reunion.
I want to go to lunch with my mom. Just a casual lunch, nothing special. I want to talk about her ducks and my dog. Her garden and mine.
Sometimes at night I look at the sky, stare at the stars and ask her to please come home. Please. But I know she is home now, and there aren’t any flights that leave there.
I’m here and she’s there.
Someday I’ll have lunch with my mom. It probably won’t be a casual meal because it will be a pretty special reunion. An event. For now I guess I’ll go make a sandwich and talk to her in my head. About her ducks and my dog. What’s in her garden today, and the tomatoes in mine.
You know – just casual stuff.
Her lake.
Wordless Wednesday
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Paddling the blues away
Morning light.
My family has come out to the lake and gone home again. The house feels empty and I’m feeling a little blue. But this morning the sun rose on another perfect day and there’s nothing to do when you’re feeling blue except take a paddle on a gorgeous lake.
So I set out.
Let’s go see what there is to see.
This is what we lake people call ‘water ski water’ because it’s the perfect glassy surface to fly free at the end of a tow line. I’ve had plenty of beautiful skis like that over the years but this morning was designed for more quiet refection.
Going around a bend I lost the perfect water and headed into a bit of a wind. And I realized I had forgot the sunscreen and the water bottle.
Paddle harder!
So paddling got more difficult physically and mentally. But I wanted to see how far I could go with a bum shoulder. So I’d rest a bit, floating silently, looking at all the lake houses, now empty of their people for another week.
And up at the next point I saw a tree. A tree that made me feel even more blue.
Not fall color. Not.
Because surely that was not fall color! Surely that was just caused by the drought. Even though it’s sitting right on the shore with plenty of water. Sure.
I quickly paddled around that point, and the water was smooth again.
Mom and Dad are everywhere on this lake.
I’d have to go way past that island and around that next point to get even close to the mountain where my parents’ ashes were spread. So even though I was curious about whether I could paddle that far I floated a bit and reluctantly turned around for home.
After all the turkey buzzards were circling above, waiting for me. And I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of dehydrating in the hot Alabama sun.
Ever hopeful circles.
As with any trip, the paddle home seemed a lot shorter than the going out had been. Partly because that breeze was at my back. Partly because I’d moved into a rhythm, one with the water and the sun and the breeze and the paddle.
Still, home looked pretty good.
Home and shade, plus a bottle of water, await.
Rolling down the river
I arrived in the South on Tuesday afternoon. On Wednesday my brother, sister and I kayaked down the Chattahoochee River for several hours. What a fun trip!
Floating on the gentle river waters.
I’ve thought for a long time that I’d like to have a kayak. I’d even toyed with looking for one to buy while I’m down here to store at the house and use during trips to the lake.
Such form there!
My brother has a friend that rents them, so he arranged to pick up three of them just because I was here. We packed some fruit and water in a little cooler and headed out to the river! It was a beautiful day.
Beautiful day. Beautiful river.
We didn’t go a long distance, we took a relaxing float down the river, and only had to maneuver between rocks a few times. It was a good time for me to try different kayaks in an attempt to decide what kind I might want to buy.
Taking a little snack break.
I can’t claim to be an expert kayak paddler. We had a few bumps, even in such a wide river. And I ended up with blisters on both hands. But it was so much fun!
uh oh!
And so relaxing! There’s a spot where the river gets narrowed between the rocks and the current is faster. It’s a great spot for a break and a little cooling off float. We floated down and then walked back up the rocks and floated down again.
Floating our cares away.
Could have done that all day!
We saw lots of cool stuff along the way. A great blue heron, several osprey, kingfishers, and lots of other little birds we couldn’t identify. Turtles too, sunning on logs as we went by.
Mr. Blue watched us slide by.
So I’m sending thanks to my brother who arranged for the boats, and to his friend who lent them to us. And to my sister for coming along taking all the pictures of me!
Can’t get more fun than this.
The family weekend continues tomorrow and Sunday. I’m a lucky retiree. Yes I am.
Smile, you’re RETIRED!
Rain dance
It’s day one at the lake and I’ve been itching to get onto the water but the weather has been fickle. Neighbors tell me that they haven’t had rain in weeks but there was a good chance for it today.
Of course.
All day the wind has been gusty and and blowing away from the house, so I hesitated taking the kayak out, concerned about battling the elements to get back home. Twice I went out to chance it and was turned back by the wind.
By evening things had settled down, the sky was still a pretty blue with puffy white clouds. I decided to take the kayak up the slough toward the cyprus trees.
Quiet down here.
Just a short jaunt.
It was peaceful up there, water like glass reflecting the pretty trees. But I noticed the clouds overhead were changing.
Uh oh
And I heard a noise coming up the slough behind me. It sounded like a fast boat, which would be unusual, but newcomers to the lake sometimes mistake our little slough with a throughway to bigger water. So I moved over to the side and turned around to watch.
It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t a boat coming around the curve. It was rain. Really loud hard pounding rain. The kind that will instantly soak you.
Is that RAIN up there?
Nothing to do but sit there and watch it come. It began to sprinkle a few fat drops on me. I braced myself.
And there it sat, about 10 yards away from me, the water pouring down and the lake rough with wind. I continued to sit in a slight shower, complete with sun above.
Reflections
Then it moved across the slough, up the hill and disappeared. I shook my head as if to clarify what I had just seen.
Drip
And then I paddled peacefully through the sun drenched evening on a little piece of a big lake toward home.
Home again, home again, jiggity jig.
Wordless Wednesday
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Cee’s Black and White Photo Challenge: Older than 50 years
Le Chateau Frontenac, built in 1892 is the centerpiece for Old Town Quebec.
Very French
It’s a huge building, so hard to fit it all into one frame. This image shows just a tiny bit; some of the lines and curves, windows and roof.
Definitely more than 50 years old.
To see other people’s interpretation of ‘more than 50 years old’ click on the link above, go over to Cee’s original post, then check out the comments there.
The people of New York City
I don’t have a perfect representation of the people that inhabit or visit NYC. These are only those the images I felt I could get away with undetected. Except for the girls in Little Italy that posed for me while I was trying to get a street scene. We laughed about it after, how the street was better looking with them in it. Which was true.
NYC is filled with such facinating people. I wish I was braver and could walk up to those interesting faces and ask if I could take their picture. Maybe I’ll grow into that someday.
Each of the images in this slideshow has a story. I could tell you what they were…but it’s probably more fun if you make up some stories on your own.
Entering via Ellis
Ellis Island is waiting for you.
The best advice I can give you about visiting Ellis Island is to give yourself a lot of time because there’s so much to see. Take it slow and let all that history sink in. And try to take a ranger guided tour. (Check for times at the information center inside the building.)
Telling us the story.
In a short half hour guided tour you’ll get a great base of knowledge which will help you understand all the rest. Our ranger used the story of a sixteen year old girl’s experience as she traveled across the ocean and through the system at Ellis Island.
At the end he reveled that girl was his grandmother. And that his grandfather came across as a young man not too long after and lived only a few blocks away from his grandmother. And the rest, he says, is his family’s history.
People passing through Ellis Island today.
Did you know that only the third class and steerage passengers had to go through Ellis Island? I didn’t either. First and second class passengers got the run of the ship, and were able to begin their new lives here in America as soon as they arrived. Those who only paid about $300 (in current dollars) for their passage were brought to the island to be inspected.
The luggage was left in the luggage room and they were sent upstairs to wait. As they climbed the stairs they were observed. If they appeared sick people at the top of the stairs marked their coats with chalk. Those people were examined more carefully.
Both the luggage and the passengers had to be inspected.
The rest waited in benches in a huge and beautiful room.
The Grand Hall waiting area would have been filled with long benches.
Perhaps they had never seen such a place before, or if they had, as the ranger said, rooms such as this would have been built in castles, not for people like them.
Beautiful floors.
But this was America, where anything was possible. Note the curved tile ceilings and the mosaic floors.
An immigrant could wait for a few hours, or days for their name to be called, but once it was they moved forward to answer the inspector’s questions. They were the same questions the ship company asked; What is your name, Where are you going? Where will you live? How much money do you have? If you answered correctly and passed the eye exam and a cursory physical you were allowed to leave and begin your new life.
Notice the beautiful tiled arches. And the original fixture.
If you did not pass, say you forgot the address of the family member taking you in, you were sent to have a hearing. You could bring in witnesses to collaborate your story. Many immigrants had never seen government treat them so fairly. It was one of their first lessons about freedom in America, and ninety-eight percent of those that arrived were eventually allowed into the country.
Still, it was a terrifying experience, to travel in the belly of a ship, arrive in a strange place, listen to strange languages, be told where to sit, be questioned by uniformed strangers. What hope and strength they must have had to travel toward such an uncertain future.
Thousands of people a day. So many faces.
They told us that forty percent of Americans today can trace a relative through Ellis Island. Forty percent of us owe our lives to someone that took the risk and came to make a better life.
If you’re ever in New York take the time to visit this historic place. Look at the views of Manhattan from the windows of the grand building. Think about what it must have felt like to sit looking across that water at the place you’d dreamed about.
Over there was opportunity.
And think about all they had left behind; family they’d never see again, familiar homes and towns. Think about what it must have been like to have only a few possessions, a few dollars, to know only a few people here in the new country.
So many.
Then think about how lucky we are to have been born here. Regardless of your political views, regardless of the stress of an election year, regardless of economic times, this is still the greatest country in the world.
We should take time to appreciate that.
Freedom forever.
Change Is Hard 