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. 

Roll Outs or Climb Up .... That is the Question.

This entry is an update:  Poison Ivy is under control.  House remodeling has begun ... two days ago a crowbar, hammer and sawsall were put to use in bringing down (literally SMASH)  a closet and a wall.  I was on the clean-up crew - the skill that I could contribute..  My observation on home remodeling is that whatever we do, we cannot expect a real estate return.  Labor and cost of materials has not gone down.  Crazy that we are in a recession ... house prices have plummetted but the cost to remodel has not.  At some point, we have to evaluate where to draw the line in the sand on spending.  Under the counter LED lights were immediately cut.  I question if I really need every shelf in the cabinetry to roll out - an upgrade.  What about the "pots and pan" drawer?  It cost more ... why?  I have been told that I will "love" it.  Can I really be reduced to loving a pots and pan drawer?  Well, you get my drift ... I look forward to commenting on the beauty of the woods that surrounds the house.  Could we be happier if we built a tree fort instead?  There would be no room for granite or swing out cabinet inserts; these luxuries would be replaced by the sound of birds, the splash of morning sunlight, and a display of stars at night.  Well, we would need mosquito netting, internet access, AND ... ah, I am lucky to have so many choices and I know this.

The Princess and the Ivy

Finally, went to the doctor after another sleepless night of itchy poison ivy.  I have tried hydrochloride cream, calamine lotion (pretty pink) and benadryl ... notta, the bright red dots persist to ITCH.  So, I cannot not pee in a cup at any athletic event cuz the cure for poison ivy according to my doctor is to take steroids, two pills over the next four days.  Darn, I was going to run a full marathon event this weekend; I'll have to postpone my athletic endeavor.  (Kidding of course; about the marathon not this Ivy.) 

There was a fairy tale I enjoyed as a little girl entitled "The Princess and the Pea".  Legend says that a girl was accused of not being royal but she proved her bloodline because her delicate royal blood birthed her with skin so sensitive that she could feel a pea under several layers of mattress'.  She could not sleep because of a tiny pea.
So hey, maybe I'm of royal blood? 
What? 
Poison Ivy doesn't count? 
Are you telling me that I suffer the aliment of the massess????   Drats, that is just not right.

Have Patience With Me : )

I have moved to a beautiful piece of property BUT the house needs a lot of remodeling.  Reflecting on Spain has been postponed.  (Writing about the trip will happen; there is so much that I learned . )The sweet memory of Spain has been clouded for a short period  by dirt under my finger nails, wallpaper removal, paint in my hair and recently a nasty case of poison ivy from pulling weeds.  I have turned all of my creative juices to this project ... a home with a soul that reflects my partner and me.  Hopefully, you will feel calm and inspired if you happen to drop by.  Oh, by the way, we are using lawn chairs for furniture so please bring a chair.  : )

Magic Carpet Ride ... Anyone?

I have recently had the most exotic shopping experience in Morocco at the open-air market place called souq or souk in Tangier.  I was mentally prepared that I would have to bargain but the intense energy (both emotionally and intellectually) of bartering was not what I expected.  This event was more of a wooing, a tempting really, expertly orchestrated by the seller to lure me into a sale. 

Desire is the defining word … for my part; I wanted to own a tajine (also called tagine) which is the name of Berber dishes prepared in a special type of cookware. (The Berber people are the native Moroccans who settled before Arabs and Islam came to Northern Africa.)  Moroccan merchants are the best in the world at recognizing yearning and the man I encountered was no exception.  
  

http://www.theworldinlight.com/

My traveling partner had past experience haggling over price in Morocco and discussed market strategy with me before we headed to the bustling souk area, ultimately advising me to establish a mental price before entering into dialogue. This was sage advice because, as it turned out, the vendor was a marketing genius.  Upon lingering at a colorful display of tagines, a smiling face approached, complimenting me on my choice. It is at this point that my ownership of the conical shaped clay pot became his entire point of being.   He began by appealing to my vanity.  I’ll bet you did not know that I am a special woman?  If you took the time (as he did) to study the lines in my palm you would know this.  Shamefully, this ploy did work … how astute of him to notice … my inner self inflated.  Negotiations began … he was nonstop verbally with a humming of words that laced around me and the pot. 

The price he offered was too high; I humbly lowered my eyes and expressed embarrassment with my inability to pay that amount although I did acknowledge that I was sure the exquisite yet functional piece was worth every dirham he requested.   

No, no, no Miss.  All prices will be considered.  What will you pay? 

Respectfully, I countered with another very low price.   It was then that I realized:  separating me from owning the unique piece of pottery was a highly trained professional enticer.  His job is to close the gap between the product and price so that I do not walk out of the booth empty handed.   The brilliant, psychological dance continued for several minutes.  Did you know that I have an amazing inner soul?  That he knew the minute I walked up to this pile of pots that I was different?   Well, it is true, I thought as I purchased two pots (instead of one).  Getting ready to leave (oh silly me), he implored me to enjoy a "free" panoramic look at the city.  Why upstairs in his shop there is a rooftop where I could take a picture of Tangier … absolutely a stunning view.  I paused … big mistake:)  Why not take a minute to go upstairs and see?  By this time, my friend was laughing at me but graciously followed me upstairs.  Leading the way, my merchant continued to wrap me in flattery as I climbed each step. 

Surprise! On the way to the photogenic vista there just happened to be three floors (or more? … we never saw the rooftop) stacked to the ceiling with hand-woven carpets.  My head was spinning with the glow of how perceptive I am - almost paranormal - this compliment offered in between presentation after presentation of carpet and color.  Rug after rug were unrolled before my adoring eyes.  Forget the mental price; this is Morocco!

Did you know that a carpet can be folded neatly, compressed tightly with twine compacting it to a tidy carry-on fit for plane travel?  Well, this is true.    After an hour of being treated like a princess, and spending like one too, I have a couple of magic carpets I can show you.  Oh yes, and the tajines, I think they were simply part of a carefully set tapestry snare.  I've learned a lot.  By the way, stop by and I'll cook you a delicious meal of lamb and prunes and afterward, you can go upstairs and take a picture of my backyard view.  You said you needed a carpet, didn't you?