I recognize that not everyone has a National Cemetery close at hand to visit. And I know I just shared with you the one near me.
It’s a new day.
But that was before volunteers placed flags on the graves of our veterans. Flags that glow when the sun is just rising on the Sunday before Memorial Day.
Adding color to the memories.
And because you couldn’t all get there I decided to go for you, and for me, to see those glowing flags and reflect for a moment or two what it all means.
Our local version of Arlington.
What does it mean, on this Memorial Day weekend, that so many people are on opposite sides of so many issues leaving no middle ground to talk?
Row upon row of lifetimes.
Yet, both sides profess to love this country, a country that allows for differences of opinions. Just, apparently, not those opinions so different than our own.
Nature’s flyover.
When you walk among the white headstones in the early morning light, alone with no sound but the birds and a distant train, you have to wonder if we’re all so very different. If maybe, rather than different, we’re just stubborn.
Quiet company.
Still. I know it’s complicated, I have strong opinions too. Things that seem so obvious to me. But, it turns out, things seem obvious to the other side too.
Talking louder doesn’t make you right. Or wrong for that matter. Just louder.
Expressing an opinion.
In this quiet place, on this quiet morning louder seems obscene. Even the birds and animals that roam here at night are quietly moving to the outskirts as the sun comes up, willing to give the place back to the humans for their special day. We might learn from them how to share the world.
Live and let live. Both sides. Everyone.
Time to move on.
It’s easier to listen in the quiet, and it’s quiet out here. So many people, so many families represented. So many stories to be told if we care to listen.
Missed every day.
The folks out here cared enough to give a part, or the whole, of their lives to keep this country safe. And strong. We should care enough not to harm it now. We need to stop yelling, trying to make our point, and quiet ourselves the better to listen.
Sometimes it’s hard to let the light in.
So many people are missed this holiday weekend. So many families bear the burden and deserve our respect and understanding.
Dreams, achieved or not, make the world worth living.
Both sides must move toward the middle in order to preserve what these families gave to us.
Both sides.
Life is made of shadows and light together.
It’s a choice we each have to make within ourselves. Find a quiet place this weekend and think about what it all means to you.
The light will always shine.
And if your family is missing someone today…know that we’re all out here sending you hugs.
I have so many things to smile about this week, so many that there’s not enough time to sort through them all.
“A guy can’t get any privacy around here.”
As you have likely guessed I was camping way over by Lake Michigan again. Lots of pictures to sort through. Not enough time.
“If I stay still, she’ll take that blasted camera out of here.”
So this week I’ll stick to things around the house that have made me smile. You will note I don’t show you the garden as the grass and weeds infiltrating it do not make me smile.
“Hurry, children! They’re watching us from both sides!”
But my little friends sure did!
“I don’t think you’re doing that right down there!”
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.
I always get a happy feeling, deep down inside, at the first sight of the Pt. Betsie beach.
Yesterday, on my way home from a 3 night camping trip near the Sleeping Bear Dunes, I finally got to check that as done.
I mean…how can it get better?
The lilacs were at their peak, the sky was cerulean blue with a few wispy white clouds, we were the only ones there.
Perfection.
The view the other way was pretty striking too.
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.
Gentle waves lapped at the base of the lighthouse.
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.
The iconic image. Even though I have hundreds of these I can’t resist this angle every single time I visit.
I imagine they were, possibly, even squealing along.
In the past weeks we’ve seen stunning portraits of an eagle on Facebook, taken in the nearby Great Lakes National Cemetery. There’s a nest out there, says the photographer, so I thought I might head out early one morning and see if I could find the noble family too.
Pink light.
I got to the cemetery a little after six, just as the sun was beginning to think about emerging. There was no one out there but me and the stirring wildlife, moving quietly in the mist rising from the water into the cool morning air.
The sound of geese wings were the only noise on this beautiful early morning.
I drove to the very back of the cemetery which borders on a small lake. The photographer had said he parked at the back and walked across a field. I could see there was a newly plowed field adjacent to the very back of the cemetary.
How hard could it be to find an eagle’s nest?
Early spring in Michigan, the colors almost look like fall.
I tromped around that field with my feet getting increaingly wet and muddy. I saw plenty of spots I thought an eagle’s nest should be, but I never found the nest.
On my way past the lake again, headed toward the car, the rising sun was making the mist glow.
And the grave markers were beginning to glow too, hit from the east with the first direct rays of the day. Row by row names were being iluminated, making the sheer size of the loss overwhelmingly obvious.
Each one was someone’s family.
I decided that was enough to call the photo shoot a success.
When I left you last, we had just spent the late afternoon exploring Trillium Hill and some of the backroads around Leelanau County. The next morning I lounged around in bed for a bit, enjoying the view from my window. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.
Pretty in pink.
After we spent some time tickling orange tummies, we headed back out to see what we would find.
No reason to rush out of the house.
Since we had seen Trillium Hill with the sun going down behind it, we wondered what it would look like with the morning light on it’s face. We were not disappointed.
Happy flowers with the morning sun warming them.
At first I thought I’d just take a general shot from the road. After all, I had all those images from the day before. And who, really, needs more than a few dozen pictures of white flowers?
The cowslips (or marsh marigolds) liked the morning light too.
Well. I just couldn’t resist, because the light was different in the morning, and everything looked fresh and happy.
It was hard to stop taking pictures.
We probably stayed way too long there, but after all, we’re both retired. What better way to spend a morning than among acres of flowers?
Another little pretty, hiding among all that white.
Eventually we left the magic hillside to see what else was out there. Turns out there was a lot. But first we stopped at a winery to pick up a few bottles and enjoy the view.
I loved the layers, from the dandelions to the grape vines to the two colors of orchards and the tall trees behind.
Then we wandered, on conservatory trails, through woods just waking up to spring.
How could you resist following this trail?
Spring was enjoying a resurgence, but sometimes you had to look carefully.
Such wonderful colors and texture.
We spent a lot of time in the woods. But we also drove on a lot of roads, looking for pretty stuff. It wasn’t hard to find things to stop for.
Roads meander through such beauty that I can’t believe people don’t drive off the road just looking at everything.
But mostly we kept our eyes open while we traipsed through the woods. We saw bleeding heart…
…and more Jack in the pulpit…
…and lots of regular stuff just bursting open in joy.
Spring has sprung.
It was my last full day in the north, in the morning I’d be heading home, sad to be leaving but so very glad I’d been able to see spring in my favorite part of the state.
Usually my visit here is all about the lake. Or the stars. But this time it was more about the land. And what glorious land it is! I saw lots of good stuff on my drive home too, but it’s hard to top cherry blossoms and trillium.
There’s no better place to spend a weekend then in Michigan’s little finger, and I was lucky enough to spend last weekend there at the home of a friend. This trip had a specific purpose, to see Trillium Hill and cherry orchards in bloom.
What’s that over there? Could it be a barn??
But first I had a several hour drive up and across the middle of the lower peninsualia of Michigan. Right through farm country.
Three for the price of one.
Plus I was lucky enough to have some pretty interesting skies which kept taking me off the freeway and on to back roads looking for that perfect combination of barn and sky. I kept promising myself that I’d get back on the road and stop stopping. But it was hard.
This was my favorite barn on the trip north.
When I eventually made it to Traverse City, still half an hour from my destination, the storm front I’d had so much fun photographing had gone through, the temperatures had dropped into the mid 30s, (-1.11F), and the wind had picked up. On the 7th of May sleet was hitting my windshield.
Traverse Bay didn’t look very inviting.
Things didn’t look promising for a photoshoot of flowers or orchards! But by late afternoon the sun was beginning to peek through clouds and temperatures, though not balmy, at least weren’t freezing. Still, we put on our winter coats, hats and gloves as we headed out to Trillium Hill.
Waves and waves of trillum lit by a sinking sun.
The hill is covered in acres of white blossoms and the lowering sun softened the light, making them glow.
Trillums, the state flower in Michigan, as far as you could see.
It was unlike anything I’d ever seen. And though you’d think there were only so many pictures to take of trilliums, you’d be wrong. There were infinite ways to try to capture the moment, and I tried to get them all.
A closer look.
I didn’t want to miss the cowslips along a small creek at the base of the hill…
A bit of gold among all that white.
…or the jack in the pulpit that gleamed in the evening light.
I loved the light shining through the leaves.
And of course, the stars of the show, the hundreds and hundreds, the thousands of trillum as far as the eye could see. There was simply no way to encompass the entirity, it was almost hard for me to believe it was real, and I was standing in the middle of it all.
Sheer magic.
Eventually we tore ourselves away from the hill and went looking for cherry orchards in bloom. Luckily there were still some puffy white clouds just begging to be used as a backdrop.
Rows of beautiful trees covered hillsides, shining against a bright blue sky.
Not everything was in bloom yet, but the trees that were, were stunning.
It felt like spring had finally arrived.
It was a treat to drive the backroads looking for something special. And look what we found.
A barn AND cherry trees! Jackpot!
So the very first day of my weekend up north we managed to find both our objectives, trilliums and cherry trees. What was left to do the next day?
Even the roads are beautiful.
Guess you’ll have to wait and see.
We liked the shadows on this barn. The end of a good day.
I’ve been seeing a couple of bluebirds flitting around, mostly in the neighbor’s front yard. Tonight I saw one in our front yard while I was walking Katie. No camera. Dog.
You know the usual excuses.
But I smiled that I even saw him and Katie and I continued on our walk.
This evening as the sun was going down I noticed this guy sitting in the back yard on the garden fence and I shot through a filthy window while he posed.
Then he hopped up on our rain guage and posed again. Just to be sure I got his good side, I suppose.
I hope she’s catching all this.
He even stared at me for awhile, and didn’t fly off.
You got the shot yet, lady?
In fact, I gave up before he finally flew down into the grass for some tasty morsel. I think I have to figure out how to be outside in the evenings if he’s going to hang around. Images without dirty glass between him and me might be spectacular.
Hmmmm, that title doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, but I missed Wednesday, so there you go. And since Thursdays aren’t generally wordless, let me explain.
It’s April 15th. Lots of things are in bloom around here, but today it decided to snow. Not unusual in Michigan, but disappointing every single year.
Husband bought me a new camera lens for my birthday. No it’s not my birthday yet, he’s just an early shopper. I have all sorts of ideas about where I should go to try it out, but I’ve been reigning myself in because I had hundreds of images waiting to be processed while I struggled with my editing function.
As the sun came up in the east, the birds began to move.
Or lack thereof.
But now I’m back on a roll and I’ve spent a couple hours (OK more) sorting through the hundreds of images I have of my last trip to the Shiawasee National Wildlife Refuge a couple weeks ago. (I think you’ll enjoy these images more if you’re looking at them on a large screen.)
Looking to the west, with the sun rising behind me, the meadows began to glow. And more birds flew overhead.
You got to see a few of the images, straight out of the camera, in a previous post. And to be honest most of these images didn’t need much editing other than cropping to get closer to the interesting stuff.
The refuge is just over an hour away from me and I like to get there prior to sunrise, because, especially when the birds are migrating, there is so much noise and movement in the early morning moments.
A kingfisher came to sit right above me, surveying the water below.
The first time I visited I was about 30 minutes too late. That morning I could see waves of sandhill cranes flying away while I was driving down the last road, still about half a mile away. This time I got there half an hour before sunrise.
Way cropped and shot in low light, so quite noisy, but look at his colors!He caught breakfast right in front of me.
When I first got out of the car at the parking lot the sky was relatively quiet, and I wondered if I had missed them again. But moments later…well…it was incredible.
Just two of hundreds.
I stood in the parking lot watching wave after wave of noisy sandhill cranes fly by. I began to wonder how so many large birds could be sleeping in the refuge, and where in the world they were all going.
As the sun came up the undersides of the birds, the cranes, geese and ducks began to glow.
Magic.
It was pretty wonderful, and I hadn’t even left the parking lot yet. In fact I thought if that was all I did, stand in a parking lot, watching and listening to these birds, that was enough to make me smile.
Follow the leader.
Finally I made myself move on, though the birds were still flying overhead. And not far down the road I saw this group beginning it’s morning stroll. I loved how the electrical lines and the fur on some of their ears glowed with the early light.
There were about a dozen of them.
The further into the refuge I got the higher the sun rose. My objective was to get to the viewing platform, two miles from the parking lot, sometime before lunch. 🙂 I don’t move along very fast when I have my camera.
Loud singing added to the morning din.
Last fall when I was here the waterways were filled with ducks, but this time the waterways were pretty quiet. Still, the reflections were pretty stunning.
Reflecting as I walked.
And I could hear the cranes out in the open wetlands. So I moved along.
I don’t know what this tree was, but the chickadee was eating parts of the buds.
On the way I met a man coming back who pointed out a tree, surrounded by water, where eight eagles of assorted ages were sunning themselves. If he hadn’t pointed it out I never would have seen it.
A perfect place to enjoy the sun.
It wasn’t on the way to the viewing stand, but it was worth the extra walk to go out on a dike to get the best shot I could. My lens wasn’t long enough to get close, so some of these shots are pretty cropped. But you get the idea.
Such huge birds!
They watched me walk out on that dike across from them, and eventually the two mature adults and a couple of the kids flew off to another tree, further away. A couple of the teenagers weren’t bothered by me and hung out in the tree. You know how teenagers are.
We’re out of here, lady!
After the eagle adventure I made my way back and then on to the viewing platform. From there I could see across the wetland.
Incoming!
There were hundreds of sandhill cranes and ducks and seagulls out there, and wave after wave of them coming in for a landing.
It was pretty noisy.
Move over, I’m coming in!
Again I wasn’t really close enough, nor did I have a big enough long lens (though that would have been pretty heavy to carry all the way back there!) so these are really cropped. But take these images and expand them by 10 and you’ll get the idea what it was like. Everywhere there were cranes.
I saw this flock of male woodducks too.
And on the other side of the dike, in a body of water, were swans.
Swans flying west, cranes flying east.
It was all pretty amazing. I stood there a long time taking picture after picture, all of them, it turns out, pretty much the same, but it felt like I was in a snowglobe with cranes rather than snow filling the air.
I didn’t see any beavers, but obviously they were somewhere around.
I wish you all could come with me when I go back there some day. You never know what you’ll see. It probably won’t be filled with cranes (I don’t think) but there will be something else interesting.
Change Is Hard 