Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


12 Comments

Waiting for warm

Snacks will be available in the spring.

Snacks will be available in the spring.

I’m up in northern Michigan, a place that many people visit in warmer seasons; a place that caters to those seasonal tourists.

Fishing boat waits patiently.

Fishing boat waits patiently.

Being here in winter it seems odd to be driving past places I’ve visited myself in warmer months. To notice little things here and there that are waiting for spring just like I am.

Kayaks resting until spring.

Kayaks resting.

I’m sure these northern villages are glad when the tourists come back each spring. But I think many that live here permanently are also glad when the last of the tourists leave and everyone can relax for a little bit.

Not the season for bike riding.

Not the season for bike riding.

I find it beautiful here in any season but I’m enjoying the coziness of remote Michigan in winter. It reminds me a bit of a time years ago when I lived in the Upper Peninsula. I learned then that as long as you find something outside that you enjoy winter won’t be so bad.

Ice cream shop celebrates Christmas.

Ice cream shop celebrates Christmas.

But I’ll be back in summer too — I can play tourist with the best of them. Even though it will be a lot busier I wouldn’t miss seeing this part of the country with a warm sun glinting off the lake, the roads full of happy people, the shops bustling.

It’s Pure Michigan. And I’m lucky to be here.

Celebrating Michigan.

Celebrating Michigan.


19 Comments

Winter showed up

Beautiful snowy day on the Lake.

Beautiful snowy day on the Lake.


I was hoping we’d slide right past the snow and ice of a true winter…slide quietly into spring while skipping all the angst of blizzards and ice storms and shovels and extra coats and hats. And boots.

Most of you know I’m up in northern Michigan visiting a friend’s cat. It’s been relatively warm here too, but Monday night while I was sleeping about 10 inches of snow silently fell.

And I have to admit it sure is pretty.

Come on a walk with me!

Come on a walk with me!

Today, on the advice of Heather I went in search of a Clay Cliffs, a nature preserve not far from where I’m staying. The roads weren’t great and I was a little worried, but I found the parking lot and it was plowed so I pulled in. My mistake was not looking at the map in the parking lot before I was drawn down the path and into the dark pine trees covered in beautiful white snow.

Someone else had been there, perhaps yesterday, perhaps earlier today, and I followed the footsteps into the woods. More than once I said out loud into the stillness of snow covered trees “Well, snowshoes would have been good.”

Nature's patterns attracted my attention.

Nature’s patterns attracted my attention.

I can tell you walking in snow is a lot slower than walking on a dry path. And walking in snow while taking pictures is even slower. After awhile I began to wonder if the footsteps I was following were actually walking on a path. There were no trail markers. Occasionally I saw dog prints along with boots. Were the footprints merely following a dog as it explored? Or was it someone that knew these paths?

Are you sure this is the way?

Are you sure this is the way?

I didn’t know.

Eventually (ok, maybe only 1/2 a mile into the walk) I came to this sign. Should I take the field and forest loop? What if it just connected to another loop? What had that map at the beginning said?

Which way should I go?

Which way should I go?

I didn’t know.

I decided to take it for a bit and then come back to the original loop that I hoped would fit the definition of a loop and end back at the car. The field and forest loop went almost straight up a big hill.

I wasn’t cold by the time I got to the top and found a huge field stretched out in front of me. I thought I’d go to the next marker which happened to be near a bench where I might rest.

A nice place to sit...in summer.

A nice place to sit…in summer.

If it weren’t covered in snow.

Still, the path lead further across the field. I noticed all the footsteps already in the snow were now going in the opposite way and eventually this began to bother me. I didn’t know where this path led, or why all the boot tracks were coming toward me. When I got to the other side of the big field I turned around.

I walked way over there before I turned around.

I walked way over there before I turned around.

If there wasn’t so much snow to trudge through, and if the sky wasn’t so dark I think I would have kept going, but my fear was that I’d end up having to back track to find the car and I’d already walked a long way. (Not so long once I looked at the map, but it felt long!)

Pretty birch and snow.

Pretty birch and snow.

So I worked my way back down the big hill and continued on my way. Turns out the car wasn’t that far away. And when I studied the map I saw I was within about a 1/2 mile from the destination I wanted to find.

Should have looked at this map first.  I went clockwise on the green loop and then all the way across the field, then turned around,

Should have looked at this map first. I went clockwise on the green loop and then all the way across the field, before I turned around and then finished the green loop back.

So now that I know there are only two loops I think I’ll go back and make it all the way over to the lake. Even if there is still snow to slog through.

More winter texture and pattern.

More winter texture and pattern.

Because there likely will be. Once winter arrives up here it’s not going to leave any time soon.

Snow on spruce

Snow on spruce


5 Comments

Patterns abound

If you're on FB you've already seen this one; cherry trees, Lake Michigan & sand dunes

If you’re on FB you’ve already seen this one; cherry trees, Lake Michigan & sand dunes

Quick! What’s the first thing you think about when I say northern Michigan? Does it include snow? Woods? Lakes? Well, you’d be right, but the western edge of the northern lower peninsula is also a beautiful patchwork of farms, orchards and vineyards.

Leftover apples

Leftover apples

Every time I’m up here I’m fascinated by the intricate designs and patterns of the orchards and vineyards that dot the hillsides. I’ve always been attracted to repeating patterns, especially in nature. But the orchards in particular have been difficult to capture.

Cherry trees under heavy sky

Cherry trees under heavy sky

When you’re on the same plane as the orchard, and perhaps too close, it’s hard to show the symmetry of the tree trunks, the shadows interlocking, the sheer beauty of the trees marching in step. Trust me I’ve tried.

Cherry trees glow in a bit of sun

Cherry trees glow in a bit of sun

It’s the same with the row upon row of grape vines. The scale is often so huge that I just couldn’t get the image that truly represented what I saw. But failure has never kept me from trying again.

Hillside of hope for next year's vintage

Hillside of hope for next year’s vintage

Today I’m sitting in the warm living room, listening as waves of Lake Michigan pound the shore, watching clouds scuttle in from the west and white caps racing across the lake. Noting the temperatures dropping; there is a prediction of snow. A perfect day, it seems, to sort through the past two days of photos.

Grapes and cherries share a hillside

Grapes and cherries share a hillside

While wading through a number of failures I see there are quite a few orchard and vineyard photos that are worth showing you. So that you can see ‘up north’ isn’t all about snow and woods.

Cherry orchard tucked behind a corn field

Cherry orchard tucked behind a corn field

I drove around aimlessly on Friday, even got lost a few times. But it’s hard to get truly lost on a peninsula. If you go far enough you’re eventually going to run into a large body of water or a small village and you’ll be able to get your bearings. I also had a map.

Young trees next to old

Young trees next to old and a spot of sun

On Saturday I had a specific destination in mind, but saw more along the way, not related to my quest, then I did when I finally arrived. I think I will have to go back and try again.

Brand new orchard in the making

Brand new orchard in the making

Meanwhile, this morning I culled a few photos (OK a lot of photos) to share with you. I hope you enjoyed the tour of Leelanau County’s beautiful fruit producing farms! I feel a lot better about my collection of orchard photos now. But that won’t keep me from looking for the next perfect shot.

Turkeys in the orchard!

Turkeys in the orchard!


5 Comments

Fury on the big lake

It started last night, the high winds TV weather people had been warning us about. Two in the morning the roar woke me from a deep sleep. High on a bluff above Lake Michigan, tucked warmly into bed, I heard the wind. Or was it the waves. The cat jumped off the bed and streaked away. And then the power went out.

Prime viewing seats.

Prime viewing seats.

People say a tornado or a hurricane sounds like a freight train. In the dark, listening intently I could almost hear the train whistle come and go, overshadowed by the intense roar of wind and water. In the dark, not being able to see the lake, all I could do was feel it.

The vibration of the waves pounding the shore hundreds of yards away came from deep in the earth, up through the bluff, through the house footings, through the floors and up into the legs of the bed frame, through the deep mattress and into my bones.

Yesterday I walked this beach now under water.

Yesterday I walked this beach now under water.

The house sighed. I lay still. Listening. Waiting. Planning where I’d go if I had to. Considering how to find the cat in her hidden safe place.

I toured the house with a flashlight, checking windows, doors. Listening to things hit the roof, scratch the windows. Calling the cat who remained hidden. Eventually I went back to bed.

The power came back on after an hour and a half. Welcome lamp light made the roar not so ominous. Still, the lake was completely dark and sounded angry. I toured the house again, turning on lights, checking, checking. Looking for the illusive cat.

Remembering cats of years ago I pulled out her food container, shook it and called her name as I wandered. Suddenly, out of the shadows, she raced toward me calling back loudly. Silly girl. She got a tidbit or two and then we both retreated to the warm bed, doors closed against the fury of the lake.

I fell asleep to the sound and feeling of nature running wild, still wearing my glasses, cat purring on my chest. We woke an hour later to find daylight beginning to reveal the lake in all it’s mesmerizing beauty. I ventured outside but it is impossible to catch the feeling of it in still photos, the winds so strong I could barely stand upright on the lower bluff, shielding the camera from the sandblast with my body.

As the morning progresses the light changes. The water turns turquoise and navy and brilliant white. The air is clear and the island at the horizon is visible.

Under dark clouds the air has been swept clean.  See the island?

Under dark clouds the air has been swept clean. See the island?

I glance out and see a bit of sun; careening down some of the 42 stairs to the beach I catch a brief moment when the sun slips from behind racing clouds and tips a few white caps with brilliant joy.

Fleeting light.

Fleeting light.

I don’t even care that I ran out without a coat, that the wind is bitter, the sound overwhelming, the moment brief.

I just know I am blessed to be here.

Turquoise.

Turquoise.


17 Comments

Cee’s black & white photo challenge: Walkways, hallways, elevators

A photo from our recent DC trip seems to fit Cee’s challenge. While we were there we walked in a lot of hallways. Many of them were highly polished with white marble floors and walls. But the hallways I found most interesting were those below the Senate buildings, those with the exposed pipes, original brick walls and polished concrete floors. The hallways not meant to impress.

Below the Senate.

Below the Senate.


These kinds of details make for an interesting black and white image. Thanks Cee for challenging us to explore aspects of photography we don’t use every day!


1 Comment

WordPress photo challenge: (Extra)ordinary

Here it is Thursday night. Tomorrow a new photo challenge will arrive. Time to get back in gear! Since I was in Washington DC this week and since I love the metro system there so much I will use it as an example of something ordinary that is extraordinary.

I love that you can see the people inside.

I love that you can see the people inside on this shot.

Everybody on the trains has a story, and most of them are interesting. Everyone I talked to while riding to and from meetings was engaging; they were all people I enjoyed talking to. There wasn’t a rude one in the bunch. In fact the metro was indicative of the way people were all over DC.

Red pants on escalator.

Red pants on escalator.

Even later at night, when there were fewer people around I found the stations underground to be beautiful. What the natives see as ordinary I found simply extraordinary.

You can go to the original post, up in the link above, and see what other ordinary things people found extraordinary.

Feet were made for walking.

Feet were made for walking.


4 Comments

Tales of the subway

Metro

Metro


My husband and I went to a lot of meetings today, talked to lots of people, even met a Senator when we gave him an award. And I’ll tell you about all that soon. But for now let me tell you about a few conversations we had today on the metro, DC’s subway system.

First, let me say I love the metro. Living in Michigan we don’t have anything like it. So for us it’s a treat to ride mass transit, figure out the map, people watch, even get lost and laugh about it. We feel so urban chic…like we’re city people, like we belong in the hustle that is DC. Though I think the natives can tell we don’t.

This morning the four of us, husband and me, my sister Beth and my brother Paul, were heading up to Capitol Hill for meetings with legislators. My sister was leaving town after her 11:00 meeting, and she was going to have to get back from the Hill, stop at the hotel to pick up her luggage, and then navigate the metro back out to the airport, all on her own. So as we’re heading down the long long escalator to the Roslyn metro platform all three of us are trying to explain to her which subway line she needs to take from the Hill back to the hotel and from the hotel out to the airport. She is getting confused and frustrated and ticked off.

We get on the train heading to our meetings and we’re still intensely discussing it. A woman sits quietly behind us reading something on her phone. We are arguing loudly now about which way she is supposed to go to get to the airport. The train stops and lets people off, people get on, and the train moves again. My brother notes that the station we are now leaving is the same station we’d go to if we were going to the Truck Safety Coalition office.

Which is in the opposite direction from Capitol Hill.

We are heading away from our meetings! The three of us, who have been confidently telling her to follow our directions, start laughing hysterically. Beth is even more confused. Then she starts laughing too, and the lady sitting quietly, not looking at us, begins to smile. By the time we get off at the next stop, the lady is grinning. We cross over the bridge above the tracks to the other side and head back to town. I’m pretty sure we made that lady’s day.

We told Beth to take a cab to the airport.

Once we were headed back in the right direction we boarded a crowded train, and stood for a stop or two. A very nice older gentleman offered my sister his seat, and she declined. He noticed that she was wearing a button with a picture of my dad on it and the man asked if dad was running for office. Beth said no, that he had died in a truck crash, and she was in DC to work on making trucks safer. The man got very sad and said he was sorry. He asked more questions and we explained more. Turned out he was an electrical engineer for the Federal Aviation Administration. Safety, he said, was very important. He wished us well in our project and said he was glad we were going to speak to members of Congress. Just before his stop he stood up, waiting by the door. My sister asked him to promise to be safe, and he said he promised. Then she hugged him and he hugged her back while I teared up over the compassion of a stranger.

Train pulls in.

Train pulls in.

Coming back from the Hill tonight I noticed a young man having trouble getting his card to let him enter the platform area. He was trying to use it on an entrance that was closed, so I explained how it worked and helped him get through the gate. Later, down on the platform I saw him trying to read a tiny metro map in the dim light, so I asked him where he was going. Turns out it was just a couple stops from where we were going, so I told him to stick with us. (But I didn’t tell him about us going in the wrong direction that morning!)

During our ride the three of us talked. He asked if we were local, we said no. He asked about the badges we were wearing that said “NO larger trucks!” and we explained why we were there, telling him about dad and our work with the Truck Safety Coalition. He was from Sweden, just visiting, and had spent the day in the Capitol gallery watching the House and Senate discuss and debate. He said he had been interested in American politics since he was a boy, and he was very excited that we had just come from seeing Senator Durbin. I was very interested that he had even heard of Senator Durbin! I ended up giving him my Truck Safety business card, and he wished us well and told us we were doing important work as he stepped off the train.

It’s so heartwarming when complete strangers take the time to talk about the thing we are so impassioned about. When they genuinely wish us well. When they thank us for doing the work. I wish we could have that one on one conversation with every American. Maybe then we’d get them all to join us to demand safer roads from those working on the Hill.

Wouldn’t that be something.

Long way up.

Long way up.


12 Comments

Night lights and hope

Arlington lights

Arlington lights

I’m here in the hotel room while my husband is walking to the grocery store. I should be working on the speeches I will be giving over the weekend, but I don’t want to. So I went out on the balcony and photographed the buildings all lit up around us.

That was pretty fun.

We haven’t gone into DC yet, we’re still out in Arlington at The Truck Safety Coalition office, checking awards, printing data sheets, stuffing folders, making calls, verifying participants, making appointments, rewriting speeches and discussing session outlines. There’s a lot to do.

This will be our biggest conference ever, the most participants and the most confirmed appointments with Members and agencies on the Hill. The very important bill we’re worried about (Transportation Reauthorization Bill) is being “marked up” (worked on) this Thursday in committee, so our timing turns out to be perfect. We will be talking to Congressional staff and committee members on Monday and Tuesday; our views should be up front and center in the minds of committee members as they work on the bill Thursday.

We’ll do the best we can to convince everyone that federal law allowing 33 foot double trailers should not overrun more than 20 states that currently prohibit the longer trailers. Everywhere I go here in DC Congressional staff tell me that issues I want resolved should be decided ‘at the state level.’ And now the American Trucking Association wants the federal government to grant them permission to run their longer trailers right over state laws. And worse, many members of Congress are quite willing to do that!

So. Tonight I am tired but optimistic. And to take a break from all this truck stuff I stand on my dark balcony pointing the camera at a dazzling quilt of light. My fervent hope is that the light will finally come on in Congressional and Agency heads and hearts and that they will make decisions based on safety rather than industry profits or campaign contributions.

This time please let safety win.

Daddy

Daddy