Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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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.

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

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?

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

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

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.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.


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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

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.


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The people of New York City

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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.

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Entering via Ellis

Ellis Island is waiting for you.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Freedom forever.


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Brooklyn!

I’ve seen first hand that more than one tree grows in Brooklyn. We’re here visiting friends and taking in a bit of city life.

Brooklyn after a storm.

Brooklyn after a storm.

During our first day we visited The New York City Transportation Museum here in Brooklyn. It has old buses and subway cars that kids can climb around and sit in.

Watch out world!  I'm driving the bus!

Watch out world! I’m driving the bus!

Oh yea. Adults can too.

We saw subway cars from as far back as 1912…

The seats had more padding in 1612!

The seats had more padding in 1612!

..up through 1961…

Mid-century modern.

Mid-century modern.

…and today. The today picture I took while riding on the actual subway out to Coney Island and back.

2016...last night.  But the museum had one from 2010 that looked just like this one.

2016…last night. But the museum had one from 2010 that looked just like this one.

After the museum we went for a walk along pretty tree lined streets, admiring the brownstones.

Beautiful old homes.

Beautiful old homes.

It’s fun to imagine what it’s like to live in one. But our friend made a good point. She said it was romantic to think about living in a house that old…but if she was going to spend that much money she’d want her new home to be brand new. These houses sell for millions each. Hard to fathom.

Someone suggested we see Coney Island. So that evening we hopped on a subway and went out to explore. Can’t beat a boardwalk along the Atlantic Ocean in July.

Fun stuff.

Fun stuff.

And the amusement park had some really cool rides. Oh, you ask…which ones did we ride?

Tempting...but crazy.

Tempting…but crazy.

Well..none actually. I’m pretty sure I’m at the age where anything remotely like this is going to make my sick. Well, not entirely sure, but sure enough to not want to risk it.

We walked out on the pier instead, watched people crabbing and fishing. And then we walked along the boardwalk for a long way.

Reflecting.

Reflecting.

It seemed like a perfect end to a very nice day. But boy did all that walking wear us out! Especially when we had to climb all these stairs at the Barkley Center to exit the subway on our way home!

Gotta get my flights of stairs in every day.  Sigh.

Gotta get my flights of stairs in every day. Sigh.

We were pretty tired. And sore. But will we take it easy tomorrow?

What do you think?

Peaceful evening along the Atlantic.

Peaceful evening along the Atlantic.


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Adventure – Day 5 – the long way home

I should have driven home on day 4; I was planning to go straight home after my two nights at Taquanamon Falls. I was out of food. The tent was wet. The holiday weekend, when campgrounds fill up and traffic gets crazy, was right around the corner.

But I was having too much fun.

So I searched for a State Forest campground to spend one more night, a campground that was sort of on the way. And I found one, situated along the Munuscong River near Pickford Michigan, still in the Upper Peninsula. After all the rain we’d had the river was wide and muddy.

The river mirrors the weather.

The river mirrors the weather.

There were several families settled into spots along the river. The mosquitoes were in residence there too, so I chose a large grassy site, further away from the river, which enjoyed a stiff breeze. In fact I didn’t slide my $13.00 payment into the secured payment pipe until I got the tent up because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that with the considerable wind. But it went up easily. I think it was glad for the opportunity to dry out.

Drying out in the evening sun.

Drying out.

I was glad myself. Everything got hung up and aired out. The site was huge and covered in grass. No mud. Towering pine trees. Perfect.

Even better, I was only two miles from an old barn. A photogenic old barn. So after camp was set up, on my way into town to find food, I stopped. Of course.

Maybe it's the barn.  Maybe it's the setting.  Maybe both.

Maybe it’s the barn. Maybe it’s the setting. Maybe both.

And the next day on my way home I lollygagged. Turns out there’s a lot of farm country between the Upper Peninsula and home. Lots of great barns. And that day there was a stunning sky filled with puffy white clouds that begged me to stop and attempt a capture.

Wheat field, clouds and a barn.

Wheat field, clouds and a barn.

So I did. In fact I stopped several times. Seems every exit I took there was something beautiful to enjoy.

Pretty spot on a pretty day.

Pretty spot on a pretty day.

Barns. Barns everywhere. Long, straight country roads crossing flat country with farms tucked in behind nearly every stand of trees.

Tucked way back there among the trees was a beautiful barn.

Tucked way back there among the trees was a beautiful barn.

Along one country road I met a couple of friends. They had come out of the woods and were walking down a lane.

This is OUR field lady!

This is OUR field lady!

They were not that excited to see me. After a long stare they turned and bounded back toward the woods.

Run!  She's got a CAMERA!

Run! She’s got a CAMERA!

Soon they were almost hidden from view.

I don't think she can see us now.

I don’t think she can see us now.

They made me smile.

But…back to barns.

Nice and square.  With hawk.

Nice and square. With hawk.

There were so many pretty places to stop.

Barns and clouds - winning combination.

Barns and clouds – winning combination.

I could have stayed out there all day. Wait. I did. What a gift retirement is! Time to play along the way home. Time to enjoy a beautiful sky and ripening wheat fields, meadows of wildflowers, soaring birds, bounding deer.

A fence can't contain the beauty.

A fence can’t contain the beauty.

And so ends this adventure. The camping gear is packed away. Katie the dog has forgiven me for leaving her behind. Husband has listened to the stories. The laundry is done, gardens weeded, groceries purchased, meals cooked. I’m going to visit Aunt V this afternoon.

Life has settled back into the familiar pattern. Adventures are, after all, only adventures if they are occasional. Sporadic.

Still…stay tuned.

Another pretty barn.

One last pretty barn.