You all know that my happy place is just about anywhere on the shores of a Great Lake, but especially Point Betsie, a lighthouse on Lake Michigan.
It has sentimental value because it was a favorite place for my parents, who camped near it on their honeymoon back in 1952.
Though when I think about camping in a green army pup tent in October I have to wonder what my dad was thinking.
But they stayed married for more than fifty years.
This week I had the opportunity to wander the beach at Point Betsie with a friend and her two cocker spaniels. We had a beautiful day, cool for the dogs but a bit of sun for us.
I took my camera equipment including the tripod, in case it looked like we’d have stars. My friend was willing to stay up late with me while I tried to capture the Milky Way.
I don’t think she realized how late that would have to be; the Milky Way isn’t really visible until almost morning at this time of year.
But as we walked the beach the clouds rolled in and after a few hours of rock hunting, and a great lunch at a park beside the Platt River in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, we decided to head home.
The next day I saw beautiful images posted on Facebook of stars and the Northern Lights, taken the night before at Sleeping Bear Dunes.
Yep. I told my friend if I ever suggest we head home early she should just kick me.
Katie says it serves me right for going on an adventure without her.
I’ve seen pictures of the Pt. Betsie lighthouse in lilac season. I’ve been covetous of those images because I’ve never seen it myself, never timed a visit to the lighthouse, one of my favorite places in this state, at exactly the right time.
Yesterday, on my way home from a 3 night camping trip near the Sleeping Bear Dunes, I finally got to check that as done.
The lilacs were at their peak, the sky was cerulean blue with a few wispy white clouds, we were the only ones there.
I have many reason to love this lighthouse, one being it’s where my parents visited during their honeymoon in 1953, and where they went for their 50th wedding anniversary a year before they died.
I like to sit and think about them there, and I hope they were close when I squealed at my first sight of the purple blooms against the white of the lighthouse.
I imagine they were, possibly, even squealing along.