Rain in Michigan

This morning I woke to the raucous of chirping birds - seemingly delighted with yesterdays evening of rainfall.  I wonder if these tiny feathered species of natural life have an awareness of the delight they share with me?  The male cardinal seemed to be considering my presence as I stepped outside over the door hearth with coffee in hand.  Walking to a chair close to the birdfeeder, my bare feet delight in the moist grass.  Southern Michigan has been suffering a dry spell … how alive the wet result of the previous night mizzle has made my spirit. 

The cardinal immediately diverted his attention when the duller colored female alit on the branch next to him. Off they flew in a chase through the thicket of wet leaves.  Do they know each other?  Was she “his” female?  Lower to the ground, a Ruby-Throated hummingbird spiraled back and forth performing the U pattern mating dance for a female I could not see.  His wings buzzing a sound like the whirring of an electric motor.  Is she “his” female or will any female do?  Does his dance have to contain a certain specialness for her to respond? 

They are busy with propagation of their species.  Secretly, I question if there is a moment in their life when this work is done?  Am I alone a member of a life form that is gifted with years to reflect … time that does not include creating life?

Wine and Love

"Love lies in the soul alone,
     Not in the body, and like wine
Should stimulate our better self
    To welcome gifts of Love Divne." 
                                (Kahlil Gibran)

Island Musing

Last week, instead of racing around completing tasks, I was sitting at the picnic table aside some enormous pine trees,  fixed, stationary icons, a vision to me of calm strength, and a slow force next to my speeding but often ineffective energy. There was a breeze rustling the oak leaves, mixed amongst the pines and red cedars, into a muffled clapping.  As thousands of leaves crescendo in the wind, I imagine the leaves are signaling approval for my thoughts. Sun rays streak through the branches sheltering my summer property forming patterns of shadow and light on the ground cover of pine needles strewn with cones and knee high fern. The real beauty for me is the various hues of green displayed in the leaves and needles overhead as the light touches each surface.

The cottage is a bare bones operation … and I like that. As I packed for the trip, I evaluated and questioned myself; do I really need this or can I do without it?  I realize that this reflection on my daily needs is something that I do not consider, as I should, at my home in Howell, Michigan.  Living on the island makes me a better consumer - I consider the necessity of what I am taking with me. Everything has to come over on boat or by airplane, and as inconvenient as this may sound, I love how organized and resourceful I've become. I make a grocery list before calling Glen’s Market in Cheboygan, carefully reviewing what we will need, who will be visiting, and what amount of space I have to store. If I stay longer, Glen’s Market in Cheboygan will shop for me for $10.00 and deliver the groceries packed in banana boxes to Plaunt Transportation for the ferry. This is a joy; I have never enjoyed shopping, and to receive this service is a treat. I find that not going in to the store (even with the extra cost of transporting) cuts my summer grocery bill.

Throughout my stay in Pointe Aux Pins, I find that I pay better attention to the trash that I accumulate. Recently I spent the afternoon cutting milk cartons down, folding cardboard boxes, and actually determining if I could have another use for a jar or plastic container in the future rather than tossing the item in refuse. I know that many of you are way ahead of me and may be thinking, Where has this woman been? Of course, we recycle, but upon reflection, I admit that my life off the island is sometimes recklessly busy without taking the time to consider how much waste I personally create. A few weeks on the island and I feel challenged to observe and ask the questions, Should this item really exist in my life; Do I really need this? This information is empowering for me, and I am ashamed that I am so late in learning.

 Clothing is another topic for analysis. I have learned the joy of not worrying about what I look like or if my colors match. I have a pair of jeans that can serve quite nicely over a period. (At home, they would be in the wash daily.) I have come to understand what Henry David Thoreau meant about slipping into a pair of slacks that already hold the shape of my bending knees. I would not have been cognizant of how relaxing wearing the same pair of jeans for a week can be without my island experience. I find myself wondering, Do I really need to pull out another pair of shorts or will these serve another day?

Cleaning the cabin takes me all of thirty minutes; I have discovered that I can open the front door and sweep the dust out onto the pine needles if I choose. I have spent hours reading Sarah Susanka’s books (Not So Big House, for one) to help me make this little space not only functional but beautiful. I have learned the benefit of pine needles; they keep the dust down, there is no lawn to cut, and they are beautiful to look at as well as soft to walk on. I made the mistake of raking them up the first summer I owned my cottage and learned, after tracking in black, sandy soil on the cottage floor, the positive services that pine needles furnish. For me, this is peace; I do not want a lawn to mow. Friends who live in Lower Michigan often ask me what I do all summer. It is true there are no shopping malls, no movies, and no crazy highways to take me places to spend money. But … there is everything else, a campfire every night, dark skies filled with stars, a moon that can shines a clear path across Lake Huron to Cheboygan, outstanding wild flowers to observe, birds exhibiting their native tongue to listen to, boating, fishing, and swimming.

The forests are amazing, filled with moss, mushrooms, dragon flies, eagles, pileated woodpeckers and other wildlife.  I have put hours of travel on my Polaris Ranger exploring the island.  These explorations are not crazy, the speed limit is 25 on the island, and on the trails I go much slower than that. There are isolated beaches where I take my supplies for the day, and simply enjoy Huron in all of its ravishing blues.  Last week, picnicking on an isolated beach, there was not another human sound, only the breeze clattering the oak and maple leaves mixed amongst the pines. 

For the past nine years, I have spent considerable time living on the island, and I believe this communing with nature has changed me.   Remembering my quiet, secluded time on Bois Blanc Island has energized me to finish the work down state.  I will work hard so that I can soon hear the sounds of water, an echoing fog horn, and syncopated calls of natural life.  

Kahlil Gibran (The Prophet)

"Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.  For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts."
I have agreed to officiate a wedding ceremony.  The readings selected by the couple are taken from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet.  This hopeful commitment of two people in front of their family and friends is an event that I am looking forward to.

Coloring My Mental Walls

Our new place does not have internet as yet making posting include taking the time away from house remodeling projects and maintaining relationships to take a 20 minute trip to the free access point of McDonalds.  I have a lifetime of experience of purposely avoiding fast food and now I am looking forward to the time there.  The problem is that I like to start work after breakfast (painting is the task that I have the most experience with) and after a day of work, I am not functioning at optimum brain power. Without my morning ritual of reading and reflection, I notice a negative difference in my daily interactions.  The best I can do is to associate each stroke of the brush to thoughts of my father.  Painting was the trade that put food on the table for us before he died. (He was thirty-five at death and I was only six years-old.)  So little I know about him but I understand the work he did.  Although I cannot say that I enjoy painting, it is one method of making a connection with the first man I loved.