Visiting Home-In the U.P.

The Upper Peninsula suits me fine, this time of year. I love the cool weather, the windy days. Any time I want to, I can look up at formation after formation of grayish-white clouds in the sky.

Today I played the child’s game of finding pictures in clouds. I saw a fuzzy bear. I watched an old woman turn into a young child. I even saw a kite floating in the wind, disappearing in seconds. The game should be for grown-ups. It makes a person let go. The pictures keep changing so there’s no predicting. No expectations. No stress of any kind. I suppose it could be used as an inkblot test of some sort.

I’m spending time with my mom. Pretending I’m the Handy-Woman. I do like to figure out how to make things easier to manage. It comes with having to do things for myself.

I spent two hours coming up with an easier way for Mom to lift her yard hose up, when she’s done with it. I found a pulley in the basement, some pretty-colored rope in the shed, and went to it. I had a bit of trouble remembering the basics of why a pulley makes the job easier. I knew I’d have to use my expertise in tying a bowline knot. I ended up putting a metal ring around the end, where Mom could pull on the rope to get the hose up. She’s done quite of lot of sailing in her life, so a half-hitch wasn’t going to be a problem when she's done.

Bowline

Half-Hitch

I did some trimming of trees, picking of weeds, planting of flowers and helping with the spring "stuff” to help Mom. I get quite distracted after a few hours. Every hour or so, I’d work on a little house, in the garden, for fairies to have shelter. When I’d find bits of glass or shards of cups or plates, in the garden, I’d add them to my little fairy house.

Mom even entertained my plans to create two places for fairies to live, by spending time in aisle four, at Home Depot, with me. I was looking for small tiles to make little walkways to the shelters.

My sister, Mary, came down, from Iron Mountain, to join us for a few days. The next-door neighbor, Adam, took our picture when it was time for Mary to leave. When he was done he handed me the camera. "I took two pictures, so if you wanted you could delete one,” he said. He’s only in kindergarten and knows what delete means. He didn’t hesitate, like many adults do, to take pictures with my camera when I ask.

Me-Mary-Mom
(I'm hiding because I'm still in my pajamas)

The Five Year Old Photographer
(Love his Ninja Turtle shirt!)

I enjoyed singing at Josie’s, a local Mexican restaurant in St. Ignace, overlooking Lake Huron. The first weekend I was singing outside on the deck. By the next weekend the midges were swarming so thick, I was singing inside.

Mom and I go for long walks and this day we got as far as the Marina and decided to head into the wind. (The man who took the picture was sitting at a picnic table, making out postcards. He said he was from Grosse Point) I took this picture and you can see the specks of midges in the foreground. The midges were so bad Mom swallowed one when she opened her mouth. (Anyone who has lived here, has done it!!)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midge

I Shouldn't Have Opened My Mouth-GROSS!
(I eventually put the blue scarf over my mouth)

Dredging Going on at the Marina
(You can see the bugs)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_GJse-anfk
(This is a great video showing the Yankees getting swarmed by midges)

I’m sure my cousin, Cro-Jo and her husband Frank, are missing their home in St. Ignace, right now. They’re at the hospital getting some needed surgery done on Frank. Cro-Jo wrote, "It’s pretty warm down here" (Detroit). I hope they get home soon, it will be good medicine for both of them.

My daugher, Heidi, got a tatoo recently. I laugh how ten years ago I would have worried. I probably would have said, "Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” But, now? I don’t question either of my kids’ decisions. They’re theirs. I’m just happy they feel comfortable with themselves and don’t have to wonder what I’ll think. They know I approve of them and trust their judgements. More than I approve of my own, when I look back at the stupid things I’ve done.

Elizabeth, my oldest daughter, is traveling to Turkey, soon. She'll be there, researching, for the summer. I don't worry about her, either. She's fluent in Turkish (she corrects me when I say that-she qualifies it). She knows people in several countries. She is a spit-fire when she needs to be and as sweet as the smell of apple blossoms, when needed.

I have to admit, I do worry about something. I worry they may hestitate to call when they need to vent. I worry they won't want to bother me with their feelings or something they need to say out loud about the world, about people or about themselves. I was young (long ago), and I know how hard it is to admit vulnerability. Or, even harder, imperfection.

As I finish up this post, I think, "Mom probably worries about the same thing!" She'll probably laugh when she reads this.