Shadow and Light: Patterns in Nature

I have long been fascinated with different patterns created by Mother Nature, sun, wind, water, and snow.  This post is a little different for me; no long story today!  Just a few images I have captured over the years - raw and unedited - of shadows and light.  Please enjoy them, and feel free to post any images you have of this theme in the comments section.

On a nice sunny day, a sudden storm front turned day into night. (Ludington State Park, MI)

Sunlight reflected on water (Clark Lake, MI)

Mud Wasp Nest.  Fifty Shades of Grey?

A foggy field in southern Michigan

September morn.

Some snow falls through the branches, some does not.

Polka dots!

Snow, with a few sparkles from the sun

Wind blown snow

More patterns made by the wind

Tree shadows, brought to you by the sun

The horizontal pattern made by the snow mimics the vertical pattern of the tree bark.

The Snow Day That Shouldn't Have Been

Yesterday was not a fun day.  Or it was.  It depends on how you look at it.

I started my day the same way I start every week day.  Up at 4:45am, prepare my hockey coach husband a cup of coffee to go, start his truck, send him off at 5:00am to hockey practice, then with a hot cup o' Joe for me, sit down at my laptop and have some fun.

I turned on the TV, because even though the most recent snowstorm had blown through on Saturday and I assumed that by Monday morning the roads would be clear and the kids would go to school, I never underestimate the power of the IIC (Idiots In Charge) to cancel school on a whim.  Hmmm…two school districts north of town had already announced closings.  No worries, they are rural areas, probably not plowed yet.  We will have school.  Definitely.

Scuba called me on his way to the rink, said the roads are clear, they will have school.  Definitely.

But the "others" on Facebook disagreed.

The "others" are the hockey moms who also get up long before the sun rises to make sure their hockey players leave on time for practice, then snuggle back into bed with cell phones and tablets to have lively interactions on Facebook.  I also throw my bff Debbie into the "others" category.  She doesn't have a hockey player, she just never sleeps.  One of the most interesting parts of my day is the early morning discussions on Facebook with the "others".

But yesterday, the "others" were being very vocal about wanting a snow day.  I am in the minority among moms who hate snow days.  God made schools for a reason, and kids should go there 5 days a week.  So with caution to push the limits without being offensive, I began a lively banter with the "others" about whether the kids should have a snow day.

A Road in the U.P.

They worry about their teenaged kids driving on slippery roads.  I worry that we are raising a generation of kids who will believe that, even though they live in one of the northern most states in America, a few inches of snow means everything stops.  The "others" wouldn't last a day in the U.P.!

At this point the TV has added a few new announcements at the bottom of the screen.  I started counting school delays and closings, because there are certain rules that the IIC is supposed to follow regarding snow days.  My kids go to Catholic Schools, and the general rule is that 4 other districts in our county have to have a delay or closing in order for us to follow suit.  At this point, the count was 2 closed, 2 delayed, but the city schools were still open, which means we have busses.  So we're still ok.

As the "others" and I continued our argument about whether our kids should go to school, one of the hockey moms posted a comment about something making noise outside her window.  Though Jo was mildly concerned, she did not want to get out of her warm bed to investigate.  I suggested it might be a bear, even though we have no bears this far south in Michigan.  That got her going!

Now another school has announced a closing, and one more delay.  But city schools are still open, and the count was at 3 closings and 3 delays, so we're good.  Surely, we would have school, right?

I offered to drive over to Jo's with my camera to capture her bear in the act, but mostly to prove that the roads in her neighborhood were fine.  She insisted the bus could not drive on her unplowed road.  Wimps.  But it was 1degree outside, and my car had 10 inches of snow piled on it, so I stayed put, eyes glued to the TV.

Our Road

By 6:15, no announcement had been made regarding our schools, so I prepared to wake Bean and get her ready for school.  5 minutes later, they cancelled school.  Really?  But the roads are not that bad.

I was incensed, and took it out on all the "others" who were waiting, wishing, hoping for a snow day.  Two minutes later, Bean sent me a text message from her bedroom asking if she could get up since she already knows school is cancelled.  My day just went down the toilet.

Bean and I went to the grocery store.  I drove her to another town 30 minutes away to play in the snow with a friend.  I ran errands.  The roads were clear, and there was absolutely no reason the kids should have a snow day.  This bothered me so much that I couldn't get past it all day.  Why aren't they in school?  Who makes this decision?  I want answers!

I became so agitated at the spineless, nameless person who is teaching our kids to be lazy and fearful, I finally had to find a way to seek some peace.  I grabbed my camera, and did what I do best; I went outside.

There is something special about being outside right after a snowstorm.  The air is so clear and crisp, everything is blanketed in white, and sounds are muted.  The quiet is complete and all senses are awake.  I walked, I took pictures, I breathed.  I listened, and filled myself with the clean scent, felt the cold air.  It made me feel so alive!  I needed my own snow day, a day to experience the elements of a Michigan winter and remember why I choose to live here.  It helped me to understand that maybe the kids need a snow day, too, not to sit in a stuffy classroom and stare out the window, but to bundle up and go outside to build a snowman, jump in a snowbank, run and play, and nurture a love for nature any time of year.  Bean was off with a friend, staying outside
and laughing, not like a teenager, but like a kid who delights in something as simple as snow.  I was a solitary soul embracing the woods, the wind, the cold, and I found my peace, painted white and waiting for me to leave my footprints in its virgin ground.  When you walk in the snow, you leave a message to Mother Nature that says "I was here".

Later, when I picked Bean up to bring her home, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright.  All the way home, I listened to her excited chatter about what she did outside all day, and she reminded me of…me.  It was a good snow day.

This morning on Facebook, Jo informed me that even though we got an additional inch of snow last night, the kids would have school and her bear did not make a return appearance.  All I had to do was plant the tiniest seed of thought, and I've got Jo snuggled in her bed listening for a bear that could not exist here.  Ain't life grand?

I hope that today, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, you find your moment of peace.  Just go outside, peace is waiting for you.

The Porcupine Mountain Series Part 2: Dr. Seuss Would Like It Here!

www.seussville.com

One of my favorite books is Dr. Seuss' "Oh, the Places You'll Go!"  I have been many places, both in body and in mind.  Some were great, some not so much.  But when I live in the tin can and go outside I am often reminded of this book, and have found that I do not need to travel far to find the best places.  For me, they are all in my home state, Michigan.

Once I have the tin can hooked up to my car, and Rooney in the back seat, and I am driving on the highway headed north, I think not just of the places I'll go, but the people I'll meet.  I always meet plenty of people on my tin can trips that are just like me.  They don't care who I am, or what I've done, or how much (or how little!) money I have; they are drawn to me, and I to them, by a common love
of living in the wilderness.  No one I meet on a hiking trail has ever asked me what I do for a living.  Often they don't even ask my name.  They are not concerned with who I am outside of the wilderness, only who I am in that moment.  We share stories of our adventures, talk about what we have seen that day out in nature, and form an instant bond born of our similar experiences.  I have met some amazing people!

I was nervous about going alone to the Porcupine Mountains, because the wilderness area is far removed from cell phones, gas stations, grocery stores, and hospitals.  Help, if I needed it, would be far away.  So it was that I experienced a moment of panic when I pulled the tin can into my camp site to discover one of the tires was completely shredded.  I asked a Ranger if he had any advice for how to get a new tire, and he gave me the number of a guy who lives 35 miles away who might be able to help.  I couldn't call him, though, because I didn't have a cell phone signal.  Fortunately, another camper overheard my conversation with the ranger, and said he and his buddy would help me.  They jacked up the trailer, took the wheel off, found the spare tire, and sadly told me the spare was the original one from 1970, and useless.  But they knew the area well, and sent me an hour away to a shop in Bessemer, with very good directions, where I met a life-long Yooper and really good guy.

Jim, from C & M Oil Company, took one look at my tire and said,

Google Images

"Oh ya, you don wanna be driving on that, eh?"  He pointed out that I really should have radial tires on my trailer, and proceeded to put a new, much better tire on the wheel.  When he brought it back out to me, I showed him the spare, and he put the same new tire on that as well.  Then he said,

"Ya, these here new tires are bigger than yer old ones, yer gone want ta put da spare on da other side, you betcha."

Alrighty, then.  I worried that eventually I would need the third tire for the spare, so we agreed that on the day I left the mountains, I would drive back to Bessemer and get a third tire put on the wheel.  That way, I would have two new tires on the tin can, and a spare, and they would all be the same tire.

Jim was really nice, and went out of his way to make sure I would be safe.  He only charged me for the tires, no labor.  And he agreed to meet me early at his shop later in the week, to get me back on the road at a decent time.

Google Images

When I left Bessemer, I stopped at a Michigan Roadside Area.  In the U.P., there are no Rest Areas like downstate, where there is a big parking lot and nice bathrooms with flush toilets and electric lights.  U.P. Rest Stops consist of pulling on the shoulder of the road to park, and using an outhouse.  I will, however, say that Michigan outhouses are very clean, always have toilet paper, and many use composting to keep the odor and fill line low.

I stopped there to let Rooney out of the car for a walk and a potty break.  We wandered behind the outhouse to a narrow trail in the woods, when we heard a low growl.  The hair on the back of my neck stood up, Rooney immediately went into defensive stance, and my hand went to my gun.  A rustling in the branches produced an old geezer, complete with white beard to his belly, flannel shirt, and a missing tooth.  I laughed and told Rooney to relax.  The growl had come from the old man's sled dog team, tied up in the woods.

Google Images

He had been driving and camping for three weeks in an old, beat-up VW van with his sled dog team.  He's from Alaska, where he has lived for the last three years in a small cabin with no utilities.  He chops his wood for heat and cooking, grows his own food, hunts for meat, and is completely self-sustained.  I asked where he was headed, and he told me he hadn't seen his wife and family in three years, so he was going home to southern Michigan for a visit.  His life-long dream had been to live in Alaska, but his wife did not want to go with him.  She stayed behind to run his business.  I naturally asked what kind of business he has, and he casually replied,

"Oh I've made millions.  About 50 years ago, I got the idea to sell deer urine to hunters.  Now we manufacture the stuff and sell to all the outdoor stores, all over the world."

Huh.  Millions, eh?  I guess the money really doesn't matter to him.  But if the Discovery Channel ever decides to produce a reality show about him, I think they should call it Piss Posh.

I thoroughly enjoyed talking to the old man, he had to have been at least 85.  He patiently answered all my questions about living off the grid in Alaska and told some great stories.  I wished him well and went on my way, but I will never forget him.

Back at the campground, my new friends returned to help me put the wheel on, and I was good to go.  I may have lost a day of hiking, but it was worth it to experience the friendly help of strangers and meet the old man.

Google Images

That night, a storm blew in.  As it approached I took Rooney for a quick walk, and passed by a campsite with 2 tents and 4 guys.  I stopped and asked if one of them had been playing "Amazing Grace"  on a harmonica the night before.  One of the guys raised his hand, and I let him know how much I appreciated hearing the mournful notes drift on the wind to my campsite.  The 4 Guys had anticipated the storm, and they were the only campers to have a massive tarp hung over their campsite and a fire going.  As the rain started, I ended up sitting by their fire with them and hearing their story.

The 4 Guys had been destined to be friends since birth.  They grew up together, married each other's sisters, and are now raising families of their own together.  The bond the 4 Guys shared was deep and strong, and I found myself longing for that kind of closeness and companionship.  They made a pot of coffee over the fire and shared it with me, and told me how the raccoons had gotten their cooler and they had little left to eat.  Long time outdoorsmen making a Rookie mistake like leaving the cooler out made them that much more real.

We compared notes about hiking trails, told funny camping stories, and waited out the storm.  When I went to bed that night, I was grateful to have been given the gift of their friendship, if just for a moment in time.

Everyone I meet in my travels to the wilderness is of a special nature.
They all prefer to be outside, away from society, and all appreciate the miracle and wonder of the balance of nature.  Living simply, for whatever time they can get, and loving all of life is what these people share.  I think Dr. Seuss would have liked it in the wilderness, and if he had written a book about my travels, it might have gone something like this:

Oh, the people you'll meet
when into the wilderness you go
Some are tall, some are short
Or small, or big, some "just so"

You will meet ones who are rich, and ones who are poor
But none of that matters, who cares?
They have no need of money or things
When getting lost in the middle of nowhere

Oh, the people you'll meet in the wilderness
When you hike on the shore and the trails
They all have the same smile, as they walk and they see
Through the sun, rain, snow and gales

They are young, they are old
and everywhere in between
They all know so much of the world they are in
They all know what it means

The people who come to the wilds each day
Are all seeking the same thing
The people you meet deep in the woods
Have hearts that know how to sing!

Oh, the people you'll meet at the end of the day
When you're tired and achy and weary
Some will be smart, some will be not
But each loves the wilds so dearly

They will tell you their stories
Which sound just like yours
When you live in the wilderness
There are no walls and no doors

Oh, the people you'll meet who know how to be free
In the wild where space is a given
The calm ones, the excited ones, all of them know
Being in the wilderness is livin'!

Some will come happy, some will come not
Some will be angry or tired or sad
But once in the wilderness none of that stays
They will forget the life that they've had

Oh, the people you'll meet when you walk in the wild
All put one foot in front of the other
They are never alone, no matter their troubles
In the wilderness we walk with each other!

On my last night in the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness Park, I took Rooney along the Lake Superior shoreline to climb and jump the rocks and watch the sun set.  Coming up over a steep rock, I was startled to find a man, sitting in a camp chair on top of the rock, beer in hand, quietly watching the waves.  Not wanting to interrupt his reverie, I apologized and tried to move on, but he invited me to share the sunset with him.  Rooney and I sat on the big slab of rock, and the man and I told each other about our time in the Porkies.  We had seen many of the same things that week, but had not crossed paths until now.  I found a sense of peace sharing a sunset with a total stranger who understood me better than any of my friends at home.  We fell silent, and as the sun hit the distant horizon with a sizzle and the waves lapped at the rocks, I was content.  Oh, the People I've Met! who have enriched my life for mere seconds.  They all have a place in my heart.

New Places, New Faces, Same Story…Awesome!

I am one of those annoying people who watched a movie a few years ago, jumped on the bandwagon, and wrote my own Bucket List.  It's a long one, with the top two lines reading "Alaska in the Tin Can",  and "Write A Story".  Further down the list is "Camp One Night in Each of Michigan's State Park Campgrounds".  To that end, I spent last weekend at Port Crescent State Park, at the tip of the thumb in Michigan, along the Great Lakes Bay Region.  I've never before gone east to camp in my great state, so I was apprehensive, mostly about the reported snake population that thrives in the reedy, marshy waters of Lake Huron's shoreline.

The day I left home was my favorite kind of summer day; hot, windy, sunny, but with storms threatening in the evening hours.  The iPod was on shuffle, the tin can was clean and packed, and Rooney was in the back seat looking out the window, with what I swear was a smile on his face.  Newfies are known for their solemn faces, but Rooney looked so happy.  Google Maps re-routed me away from the construction zone on M-25 to take me on a delightful, meandering voyage through farmland and wind turbine fields.  Stretched out in front of me were no less than 100 wind turbines, possibly more.  The majestic towers spun lazily in the breeze, waving to me and sending me along my way.  It was rather awesome.

I came upon a roadside rest stop, and discovered the first site of a natural disaster responded to by the Red Cross.  I then continued along M-25 to catch glimpses of Lake Huron, and storm clouds building in the sky far away over the cold water.  When I pulled into Port Crescent State Park, I knew I still had plenty of time to set up camp before the storms, yet I felt rushed to complete my camp so I could watch the storm approach while sitting on the beach.

The tin can was ready to be inhabited with 20 minutes to spare.  I walked Rooney while we could still stay dry, then settled into my camp chair under the awning and felt the wind shift as electricity filled the air.  I could actually smell the rain coming, and with the first distant rumble of thunder, I felt my surroundings change as the storm came upon me.

It was a lovely storm; not dangerous from where I was sitting, just a brilliant display of light and sound reminding me of how powerless we are to stop nature, and how lucky we are to experience it.

The storms came and went all weekend, but it didn't stop Rooney and me from exploring the park and meeting other campers.  I have always
found that each state park in Michigan attracts a certain "type" of camper, and at Port Crescent I found the best kind of people.  Every camper I met didn't care what the weather was doing, they had come to enjoy the peace of camping along the shoreline of a Great Lake, get outside to walk slowly and take in their surroundings, and share their stories over a fire.  They were a friendly bunch who respected each other's privacy.  And, of course, they all fell in love with Rooney.

Speaking of Rooney, he once again has a brown tail, instead of his usual black and white.  He really must learn not to back up to the bonfire.  While I appreciate torch light, the smell of burnt hair that still lingers in the tin can is unpleasant, at best, and downright sickening when a rainy day turns the odor to wet, burnt hair.  As with the other times, his hair is so thick he never even knew he was on fire until I tackled him to the ground at beat him with a blanket.  I assure you, his expression quickly reverted to the Newfie "sad look".



All in all, Port Crescent gave me exactly what I needed for this trip.  Sunny days, stormy nights, and wonderful campground hosts who were knowledgable about the area and gave good suggestions for things to do.  The campground is quite secluded, miles from the nearest town of Port Austin, and make sure you fill your gas tank in Caseville before you arrive.  Though the black flies were biting, and there are no trails within the campground, and dogs can't go anywhere near the beach without a DNR officer appearing out of nowhere, the campground was clean and my site was on the beach.  The sunsets were stunning, the driftwood was spectacular, and the staff, hosts, and campers were a friendly group, making my stay rather enjoyable.  For a quiet weekend, I would return there to regain peace and perspective in a busy life.  As a side note, I am most pleased to report that I didn't see a single snake.  They must not have known I was coming.

Game On

I used to hate Winter.  Living where I do, that was a bad thing.  As soon as the temperatures dropped below 50 I began preparing for my winter hibernation.  Once we were firmly in the 30's and the snow was starting to fly, I was done with everything for the next five months.  I stayed home.  I ate junk food.  I gained weight.  I was tired all the time, and had no interest in anything.

Then a few years ago, a friend who grew weary of listening to me complain about Winter suggested I get out in it.  She encouraged me to take a walk each day, and as I became accustomed to the weather, she challenged me to embrace the cold outdoors.

I really didn't want to, but I'm a competitive person, so once she told me how great she was at finding ways to be outdoors during the Winter, it was game on.  If she could do it, so could I.

I began by becoming the rink maid.  My husband had built an ice hockey rink - a rather elaborate affair - in our woods, but I rarely ventured down there when my son and his teammates were playing hockey.  I learned how to resurface the ice, and made it my habit to carry the water hose across our property, down a steep hill, hook it up to the water pump, connect the manual Zamboni, and drag it back and forth, back and forth, over the entire rink.  I did this at 9:00 pm, 10:00 pm, 11:00 pm, and sometimes even later.

The Rink at Night

We had the best ice that year, and for several years after.  My work produced a thick glassy surface on which the boys loved to skate.  I was the Rink Maid, and it didn't kill me.

Backyard Ski Jump

Then I added to my game by becoming the official backyard photographer on Snow Days.  All the kids came to our house to snowmobile, build jumps to ski and board off, skate, and play in the snow.  I stayed outside all day, and into the night,  capturing these youthful images for my kids to forever remember.

The following year, I made a vow to add a walk in the woods daily.  We have a neighbor who owns several acres of woods with two ponds, he allows the people who live in the area to walk the paths he keeps clear.  On one of my walks, I discovered a fireplace and majestic chimney, standing alone among the trees.  There was once a cabin that went with the chimney, but it had burned down.  I was captivated with the chimney, and walked down there frequently to sit on its hearth and watch the creatures in the woods.  I still do that.

Chimney in the Woods

My Snowy Backyard

 



As much as I hated to admit it, I found that my friend was right.  The more I made myself go outside during Winter, the more I came to enjoy the special surprises of this cold season.  Walking on the ice at midnight brings an unworldly kind of silence and peace.  If the temperature drops below zero, the ice cracks and pops, and the echoes of it can be heard all the way up to our house.  When it snows, I can hear each flake hitting the ground in the woods.  The air feels cleaner, colors are sharper, and I feel good.

Drummond Island Ledges

Last year, I planned to take my game to a whole new level.  I researched a trip to Drummond Island, in Lake Huron.  The possibilities were endless!  Fossil ledges accessible only by snowshoeing, a snowmobile trail across frozen Lake Huron to Canada, the icy tundra of the rare Alvar region on the island all beckoned me to challenge myself and fully experience Winter.  The unusually warm Winter of 2012 put a damper on my plans, but I went to Drummond Island anyway.  While the weather was mild and there was little snow, it still ended up being a wonderful trip because of the people and places there.  I fell in love with the island, and plan to return.

Drummond Island Alvar Region

But this year, I am going a step further in the game.  Next week, I will travel north to the shores of Lake Superior, where I will join a group of strangers to climb the icy cliffs of the Pictured Rocks.  The last several days at home we have been hit with an arctic blast of cold air, and I have forced myself to go outside each day to acclimate my body to the frigid temperatures.  The weather prediction for up north is cold, which is good, because I really don't want to trust my life to a giant icicle when it is 40 degrees outside.  I am so excited to push myself physically on this challenging quest, embrace Winter, and meet other people whose sanity is as questionable as mine.

Courtesy Google Images

As for my friend who got me started on this with a dare, I am grateful to Donna for pushing me to be a Winter person; however,  I'm pretty sure she has never been ice climbing.  Game on, indeed.