365Whenever I feel like itin2010years to come

Humble Beginnings

2011-09-03T00:00:00.005-04:00

I was born, and haveever remained, in the most humble walks of life.

~Abraham Lincoln

It all started in Arco, Idaho in 2002. I was in the gift shop at Craters of the MoonNational Monument amassing a pile of postcards when I spotted it out of thecorner of my eye. Oh sure, I knew therewere national parks in the United States, but until I began to thumb throughthe pages of the spiral-bound Passport to Your National Parks, I really had noidea of how extensive our National Park Service was.

Yellowstone National Park was established as our nation’sfirst by an Act signed by President Ulysses S. Grant on March 1, 1872; the NPSwas created some 44 years later when President Woodrow Wilson signed another inAugust 1916. Today the NPS iscompromised of 395 units which cover more than 84 million acres in every state(except Delaware!), the District of Columbia, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Ricoand the Virgin Islands. They not onlypreserve the scenic areas of our country, but also share the stories of its peoplein national parks, monuments, battlefields, military parks, historical parksand sites, lakeshores, seashores, recreation areas, scenic rivers and trails,and the White House. Whew! Suddenly there were a lot more places I wantedto see.

With color-coded maps, pictures and descriptions of avariety of regions, the NPS Passport points me in the direction of its assortedsites. And, like an internationalpassport, it provides a place to collect cancellation stamps bearing the namesand dates of the places to which I’ve been. In addition to accomplishing things on my Bucket List while traveling, oneof my idiosyncrasies became a desire(obsession?) to obtain a stamp in my NPS Passport from whatever happened to bein the area I was visiting. Five suchsites can be found in Kentucky, two of which were in the vicinity of where we’dbe. Let’s roll!

The Abraham LincolnBirthplace National Historical Park was the first memorial built to honor our16th President. That’s right, Lincolnhailed from Kentucky. Even though heultimately wound up in Illinois, the Bluegrass State was home to his humblebeginnings. Compromised of two units,this park focuses on Lincoln’s life in the south. The Birthplace Unit features a symbolic cabinenshrined within a memorial building and the Boyhood Home Unit where Lincoln spenthis formative years. Since we weretraveling from the north, we actually stopped at the latter first, but for thesake of chronology I’ll detail the sites in reverse.

At the Visitor Centerat the Birthplace Unit we viewed a 15-minute film, Abraham Lincoln: The Kentucky Years, to discover where it all started.

In the fall of 1808, Thomas and Nancy (Hanks)Lincoln and their year-old daughter Sarah settled at Sinking Spring farm inwhat is today known as Hodgenville, Kentucky.

Two months later, on February 12, 1809, Nancy gave birth to theirsecond child in a one-room log cabin. Hewas named Abraham after his grandfather.

Due to an unstableland title, in 1811 the family moved 10 miles northeast and rented 30 acres ofthe Knob Creek farm. Lincoln’s earliestmemory was of this homestead and helping his father plant pumpkin seeds.

The reconstructed cabin at this site actuallybelonged to the Gollaher family.

Had itnot been for his childhood friend Austin Gollaher, who plucked Lincoln from aswollen stream following a flash flood, the great man’s story would have endedhere. But he and is family remained at KnobCreek for five more years until slavery issues and lawsuits over title to SinkingSpring farm led them to Indiana.

In 1905 RobertCollier purchased the farm where Lincoln was born. Together with Mark Twain,William Jennings Bryan, Samuel Gompers and others, he formed the Lincoln FarmAssociation to preserve the birthplace and establish a memorial to house a logcabin from the farm; they raised over $350,000 from 100,000 citizens. John Russell Pope, known for other famous structuressuch as the Jefferson Memorial in Washington, D.C., designed the Beaux-Artsneo-classical building at Lincoln’s birthplace. The cornerstone was laid by President Theodore Roosevelt in 1909 anddedicated by President William Howard Taft in 1911, almost 100 years after the Lincolnfamily moved from Sinking Spring farm.

Fifty-six granitesteps—one for each year of Lincoln’s life—lead to the log cabin inside thebuilding. While it is old and typical tothe area of that time, it is not the original Lincoln cabin. The memorial building also features 16windows, 16 rosettes on the ceiling, and 16 fence poles, all representative of Lincolnas our 16th President.

Having previouslytoured the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial in Indiana and the Lincoln HomeNational Historic Site in Illinois, I knew how Lincoln’s story ended. With our visit to the Abraham LincolnBirthplace National Historical Park, I finally learned how his story began. After I scored a stampfrom each site in my NPS Passport, it was time fordiscoveries of another kind …

The Kentucky State Capitol

2011-09-02T00:00:00.002-04:00

Being afforded many opportunities to travel, I’ve actually seenmore than the 20 states crossed off aforementioned list. But because I haven’t yet toured theirstatehouse, places like California, Nevada, South Dakota, Florida, New York andNew Jersey haven’t scored a checkmark. Mylist, my rules! Since that notion iswhat prompted a trip to the Bluegrass State, its Capitol was the site to whichwe first headed upon arriving there.

Completed in 1910, Kentucky’s current Capitol is the fourthpermanent statehouse constructed since the Commonwealth’s statehood in 1792. It was built to replace the earlier 1830capitol building, still standing in downtown Frankfort, which had becomeinadequate to accommodate the growing state government. Designed by Frank Mills Andrews, it is consideredto be one of the most beautiful capitols in the country. His Beaux Arts design is a pleasant departurefrom the many classical Greek and Roman structures I’ve seen in other capitalcities.

The exterior of the Capitol is faced in Indiana limestoneand Vermont granite. The pediment abovethe entrance was designed by Charles Henry Niehaus and carved by Australiansculptor Peter Rossack. The centralfigure represents Kentucky, with Progress, History, Plenty, Law, Art and Laboras her attendants. The animals symbolizeagriculture.

The building’s interior is open to visitors and guided toursare available on the hour. We instead grabbed a map and opted to explore on ourown.

The capitol rotunda features sculptures of prominentKentuckians, including Abraham Lincoln, Jefferson Davis, Henry Clay, EphraimMcDowell and Alben Berkley.

The dome rises more than seven stories in height (180 feet) andwas patterned after the dome of Napoleon’s tomb in Paris.

My favorite feature of any capitol building is the muralswhich depict its history. The fourhand-painted murals in the Capitol’s pendentives (the triangular areas beneaththe dome) did not disappoint. Though it tooknearly 100 years for their design to be realized, the story of how they came tobe is an interesting one.

Civitas: The Light of Progress

When the Capitol was originally built, plans were made formuralist Frank Millet—a former Harvard classmate of Kentucky’s then governorAugust E. William—to design and paint murals in the Capitol rotunda. Tragically, he died on the ill-fated maidenvoyage of the Titanic on April 14,1912 and the idea was put on hold.

Nature: The Bounty of the Land

When EverGreene Architectural Arts conducted a restorationof the State Reception Room in 1991, Capitol officials were presented with asketch of how the rotunda could look with painted pendentive murals. That, however, was tucked away in the atticand forgotten until serendipitously discovered again in 2005.

Culture: The Fruits of Knowledge

Planning and funding ensued over the next several years. It proved challenging until Marion Forcht, amember of the Historic Properties Advisory Commission, stepped forward tounderwrite the entire project. Herdonation is the largest in the history of the Capitol. Through her generosity, pendentive muralswere finally designed for the rotunda. They were completed in June 2010, aptly timed with the Capitol’scentennial.

Industry: The Strength of Commerce

The four themes represented in the murals are agriculture,industry, civilization and culture. Eachis representative of various history and landmarks found throughout theCommonwealth of Kentucky.

Andrews’ penchant for French design can also be seen in otherinterior features of the building. Themassive marble stairways in the Great Hall resemble those in the Paris Operaand the State Reception Room is a replica of Marie Antoinette’s drawing room atVersailles. The grand corridors feature36 columns of Vermont granite and art glass skylights.

Lunettes painted by Gilbert T. White are featured above eachstaircase and highlight the entrances to the legislative chambers. In the east wing above the House is arepresentation of Daniel Boone’s first view of the Bluegrass Region in 1769.

To the west above the Senate Boone and RichardHenderson conclude the Treaty of Watauga in 1775, which allowed for thepurchase of much of the land that is Kentucky from the Cherokee Indians.

With amazing architecture steeped in rich history, thisCapitol building was well worth the visit. A final photo outside the front doors proved we had actually seen theKentucky statehouse and made my 20th tour official!

The Bluegrass State

2011-09-01T00:00:00.104-04:00

When I was younger my uncle once told me, “The older youget, the faster time goes.” Back then Ithought he was nuts, but now believe he may very well have been onto something. No. 10 on my Bucket List reads “Tour thecapitol building of all 50 states.” Ihad been making great strides through the years since first formulating the planin 1999. Would you believe, though, thelast one I saw was in 2008? Yes, I’vecome to realize that time does indeed fly. Gotta work on that list! The opportunitypresented itself over Labor Day weekend. Grab a partner in crime, cash in points for a hotel stay and gas, go. Kentucky here we come!

I drove to Mark’s place the night before and we hit the roadearly the next morning. I admittedly wasneither bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed, but excited to be embarking upon another exploratoryadventure. Mapquest indicated it wasnearly a five-hour journey from Toledo to Kentucky’s capital city of Frankfort,but once on the road Morris A. Wellington (the GPS I received as a recentbirthday gift and named after a previous Iowan adventure) told us we’d be therein just four hours. Love it!

After we crossed the state line from Ohio, we stopped at theVisitor’s Center. We had been in the southwesterncorner of Kentucky when returning home from a visit to Little Rock and Memphis in2008, but our current trip was thrown together at the eleventh hour. Aside from a couple of must-sees on our agenda,we really had no idea of what there was in the north and south central regionsof the commonwealth.

Yep, you read that right. Kentucky is one of four states in the U.S. to use theterm “commonwealth.” (Massachusetts, Pennsylvaniaand Virginia are the others.) Acommonwealth is defined as a community of people acting in commoninterest. Though the term has no legal meaning,its use is traditional.

We ended up winging it for most of our trip. Since the mercury was pushing 103 thatweekend, we opted for air-conditioned comfort and did a lot of driving the backroads of the scenic central areas. The lovelyfield of wildflowers at the VC was the first clue as to what was in store.

This Kentuckian water tower also hinted at what was tocome. Love that Southern drawl!

The topography began to change from fast-paced interstates topassageways cut through limestone ridges leading to rolling farmland.

Unfamiliar yellow crops begged an exchange similarto one of my favorite Steve Martin-Bill Murray SNL skits:

“What the hell is THAT?”

“I don’t know WHAT the hell that is.”

“What in the HELL is that?”

“I don’t know. Whatthe hell IS that?”

“Oh, I know what that is …”

I finally figured out they were tobacco fields!

When Kentucky became the fifteenth state to join the Union in 1792, its economy flourished with the production of tobacco, the state’s main cash crop. Today it remains one of the biggest tobacco industries, as was evident by the fields and fields we saw during our travels.

Tobacco leaves are first harvested when they start to yellowand are then transferred for curing. Thelength and method of the process varies depending upon the desired endresult. Air-cured tobacco is allowed todry over a period of four to eight weeks. Low in sugar and high in nicotine, this produces cigars.

Fire-curing in tobacco barns results in pipe tobacco,chewing tobacco and snuff.

I found the whole tobaccothing fascinating. No, I wasn't smoking any of it. We’reYanks. We don’t grow this stuff backhome.

We noticed that most of the barns of Kentucky also sport quiltpatterns.

And hurray … while leisurely driving through the country, wefound a couple of Kentucky’s timbered tunnels. Covered bridges were first built across the state’s rivers and creeks inthe late 1700s, but didn’t become popular until after 1814. While there were once hundreds of thesearchitectural beauties, only 13 now remain. Many of them were destroyed during the Civil War.

Franklin County’s only covered bridge spans the north forkof Elkhorn Creek.

The Howe truss of theSwitzer Covered Bridge extends 120 feet and was built in 1855 by GeorgeHockensmith.

Each entrance has asawtooth edge and the lattice is pinned with wooden pegs called trunnels. This structure was closed to traffic in 1954.

Mt. Zion Covered Bridge, also called Beech Fork CoveredBridge because it crosses the Beech Fork Creek,

is the longest multi-span bridge in Kentucky at 211 feet.

The 1865bridge is built of yellow pine and features a Burr truss—an arch of wood sandwichedbetween two posts and named for Theodore Burr who patented the design in1804. This bridge is also closed totraffic.

After Kentucky became a state in 1792, five commissionerswere appointed to choose a location for its capital. A number of communities competed for thehonor, but Frankfort outbid them all. Persuadingfactors, according to early history, included the offer of Andrew Holmes’ loghouse as the capitol for seven years, a number of town lots, £50 worth of locksand hinges, 10 boxes of glass, 1500 pounds of nails, and $3,000 in gold! It has remained the capital city ever since.

Downtown Frankfort is nestled in a valley along the banks ofthe Kentucky River. The historicbuildings of the town are well preserved and house antique shops, coffee housesand restaurants;

the state capitol and executive mansion are across the waterway.

En route to a capitol tour (a more in-depth account willfollow in the next post), I made Mark pull over in one of the uptownneighborhoods. I know the work of FrankLloyd Wright when I see it!

Sure enough, the only structure of the great architect erectedin Kentucky is the Rev. Jesse R. Zeigler House. The design for the residence came about after a chance shipboard meetingof Zeigler with Wright in 1910; construction of the prairiehouse began later that year. Today it isprivately owned and not available to tour, but I’m glad we happened upon it.

The scenic drive from Frankfort to Lexington, Kentucky’ssecond largest city which is known as the Horse Capital of the world, is famous forits pastures.

This region is truly ahorse lover’s paradise with its sprawling breeding farms

and thoroughbredsgrazing on Kentucky bluegrass.

The grassfor which the state is named of course isn’t really blue; it’s green. In the spring, however, the blue-purple buds lenda bluish tint to the landscape when viewed from a distance.

We also visited a couple of Kentucky’s national parks (andscored stamps in my National Parks Passport!), but that too warrants its ownpost. More soon …

Though we did cover a lot of ground during our visit to theBluegrass State, as I write and relive this adventure I realize how much we didn’tsee. But you can’t do it all in just afew days and that sweltering heat had a way of beating us down. Our energy was zapped, we were a tad bit crabbyand ready to go home. Someday I will return to Kentucky to discover even more of its treasures, but for now I havesuccessfully checked off another item on my Bucket List.

20 states down; 30 to go!

It’s All Happening at the Zoo

2011-08-28T00:00:00.005-04:00

Someone told me

It’s all happening atthe zoo

I do believe it,

I do believe it’strue.

~Simon and Garfunkel

When was the last time I was at John Ball? I couldn’t even tell you. It’s not that I don’t like zoos, but in allhonesty I’ve never been impressed with our local park. But I do love my nieces and nephews, and itwould be a great place to spend the afternoon with them. Okay, I’m in.

The first clue of how much has changed from my last visit occurredthe moment I stepped out of the car.

“Aunt Lynn, will you ride the camel with me?” Kadenwondered.

Yes, “Ride a camel” is No. 9 on my Bucket List, but I wasthinking more along the lines of trekking through the Sahara with a Berberguide. A turn or two on a dromedary ledby zoo personnel wasn’t gonna cut it. Could I actually deny a four-year-old his adventurousspirit? We’ll see …

I’ve learned there are now far more things to do at the zoothan merely check out the animals. Ourfirst stop was at the Sky Trail Ropes Course. Towering four stories above the parking lot with two climbing levels, ittouts an opportunity to test your strength and your courage.

With my fear of heights I wasn’t going to do it;no way, no how. Besides, you have to be48” tall to participate and Kaden is such a peanut. Someone had to stay behind with him. Whew! Everyone else harnessed up and away they went.

Sarah found it a bit challenging,

but Zhakand Olivia easily maneuvered the second level. I swear they are part monkey!

“Aunt Lynn, can we ride the camel now?”

Nope. Zip line’snext. Zhak had no qualms about donninganother harness to join Miss Cherri in flying four stories above the zoo. You think he liked it?

“Aunt Lynn, can we ride the camel now?”

Sorry, Kaden. Lunchtime! We enjoyed a sammy break, though wecould have done without the flock of mangy chickens and loud cock-a-doodle-do’ingthat accompanied us on the café terrace.

“Aunt Lynn, can we ride the camel now?”

Kaden had been so patient and I’m a sucker for big brown pleadingeyes. How could I say no to that littlecutie?

Yep, we rode the hump. I was less than enthused; he loved it. ‘nuff said.

Adventures out of the way, we finally took time to see some ofthe critters.

After all was said and done, I was amazed to discover fivehours had passed. Who knew it was sohappening at the zoo?!?!?

K-k-k-k-k-Katmandu: A Visit to Kalkaska County

2011-08-27T00:00:00.070-04:00

Tourism beganaround the turn of the century as folks in the Midwest discovered the area as aplace to vacation in the great outdoors. Couple the Pere Marquette State Forest covering much of the county with over80 lakes and 275 miles of streams and rivers, Kalkaska is indeed asportsman’s paradise. It was also the idealplace to bid Bobby a final farewell.

After Mark’syounger brother passed away in June, his friend John graciously offered hisnorthern property for an ash scattering ceremony. You know you’re traveling to no man’s landwhen the directions are as simple as the site to which you are headed. “Cross river, pass Sportsmen’s Club, left on unmarkedgravel road, first green cabin.” Now I’ma city girl if there ever was one, but this place devoid of the hustle andbustle of urban life truly was spectacular. Serenity radiated from the natural beauty. Hmmmm … maybe men and their yearly open-air sojournsare onto something.

The hunting andfishing camp was a step above rustic. Afterall, as Lisa so profoundly noted, the outhouse was pretty pimped out!

Bobby's carpentry skills had been put to good use in helping to construct the sleeping loft. If only the walls could talk, I’m sure therewould be great stories to hear.

After other family and friends hadarrived, we gathered at his favorite fishing spot.

Most of us had neverscattered ashes before, but I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to doit. You just need to speak and feelfrom the heart. John’s wife read anespecially touching note, we released carnations and handfuls of Bobby’s ashesinto the flowing waters of the Boardman River,

and the voice of Bob Seger reverberated from aboom box:

I’m tired of lookingat the TV. news.

I’m tired of drivinghard and paying dues.
I figure, baby, I gotnothing to lose.
I’m tired of beingblue.

K-k-k-k-k-Katmandu,

I think that’s whereI’m going to.
If I ever get out ofhere,
I’m going to Katmandu.

We may have beenwinging it, but it was perfect. Bobby isnow peacefully swimming with the fishes.

Good Intentions

2011-08-21T00:00:00.016-04:00

On my way home from the east side of the state last weekendI passed the most gorgeous field of sunflowers near Brighton. I had my camera with me andwoulda/coulda/shoulda got off at the very next exit, backtracked and found theroad leading to those golden beauties. But I didn’t and have been kicking myself ever since. I’ve never really been awoulda/coulda/shoulda kind of girl. Ithought about hopping back on I-196 and again traveling eastbound, but I hopedinstead to find something a bit closer to home this time around. I remembered my friend Cherri telling me abouta field just north of town which she spotted last summer and zapped her a quickemail. I knew there was a chance itdidn’t exist this year since farmers often use sunflowers in crop rotation. Sure enough, she relayed she had just traveled that way and didn’t recallseeing it again. She did tell me,however, her co-worker had an acre of sunflowers in her front yard and wouldn’tmind if I stopped by to photograph them. Score!

I swung by my folks’ house to say hello on my way out oftown and discovered my sister and her boys visiting as well. When I mentioned I was off to take picturesof sunflowers, Zhak piped up:

“I have a camera. I wantto go, too!”

My Mom shot me one of those, “It’s not a good idea” kindof looks, but I thought I’d give my sister a break for a few hours and offeredto take him with me. What could gowrong? He did, after all, promise to beon his best behavior and follow the rules. Now I can just hear you laughing at the expectation I put in arambunctious seven-year-old, but hey … I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout raisin’ young ’uns.

Despite the absence of maternal instinct, I DO know thatkids have a short attention span. Amazingly,though, I only heard one query of “Are we there yet?” during our half-hourjourney. This isn’t going to be so bad,I thought … or was it due to the fact his nose was buried in Harry Potter during the drive?

When we arrived I thought I’d see carefully cultivated toweringstems, but instead found a field of wild dwarfs. Not exactly what I expected, but that’sokay. I had also been warned earlier inthe week that I needed to act quickly as the flowers were beginning to fade. I’m sure the torrential downpour we had theday before didn’t help. They WEREpast their prime and a bit droopy. Ahwell, we’d make it work and got out our cameras.

And then the dog appeared. He was on an electric collar so I knew he couldn’t get too close, butZhak’s all about ~~man’s~~ a boy’s best friend and ran up the driveway. I told him he could snap one picture from afar. Twelve photos and a whole lotta barkinglater, he was still pressing the shutter button. I had to remind him we were there to takepictures of flowers and not a dog. Hebegrudgingly returned his attention back to the field …

… until he saw all the bugs and was convinced he’d get stungby a bee. It’s kind of hard to take pictureswhen you have a frightened child wrapped around your neck.

He finally decided to wait in the car and,you guessed it, 2.7 seconds later loudly declared, “This is BORING!” Ah ha … there’s that short attention span Iwas talking about! Needless to say, thislittle venture rapidly came to an end. Ihad to stifle a giggle on the way home when Zhak announced he wasn’t going on anymore photoshoots with me. At least we agreedon that!

I do love spending time with my nephew and do know things don’talways go quite as planned when kids are involved. (It still baffles me how parents do it 24/7.) All things considered, I managed a few not sogreat photos and once again came away with a story to tell. Even so, I think next time we’ll stick with Chutesand Ladders.

Shoppin'

2011-07-11T00:00:00.004-04:00

You don’t take a photograph, you make it.

~Ansel Adams

To photoshop or not to photoshop? That is the question. Ask 100 photographers how they feel about post-processing and you’ll get 100 answers. Some will argue that the sign of a good photographer lies in the SOOC (straight out of camera) shot. Why rely on Photoshop when there are so many possibilities using only your camera? “Don’t do it!” they insist.

If someone can take museum quality photos with nary an edit, they are indeed a far better photographer than I. I agree that the art of photography should likely be accomplished in the camera using its compositional properties, but I also believe a little tweaking never hurts. It can make a good photo a great photo. Heck, even before the advent of modern technology, the masters were manipulating their shots both in and out of the darkroom. Of course it’s much easier to accomplish today. All it takes is the know-how as to which buttons to push. Plus, it’s just so darn fun to see what Photoshop can do!

My approach to purchasing editing software is akin to the type of camera I use. Why spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a high end DSLR when I can get the same effect from the manual settings on my glorified point and shoot? While I’d love Photoshop CS, the granddaddy of imaging editing software, I am really stingy about handing over a fist full of Benjamins for it. For about one-seventh of the cost, Photoshop Elements (PE) is a great substitute. Until I’m up to speed on how it works, I’m happy with the less expensive version for my photography experiments.

I initially was intimidated by all the bells and whistles of PE, but dove in anyway. Much of what I knew was self-taught and resulted from a little bit of trial and a whole lotta error. But I knew I was underutilizing its features and barely scratching the surface of what it has to offer.

Enter Kim Klassen dot com. I don’t even remember how I stumbled upon her website, but Kim has proven to be a godsend with her post-processing techniques. She’s one of those people who embody the spirit of encouraging and assisting fellow artists by unselfishly sharing her talent and knowledge. Through her online courses, one of which was FREE! (you remember how I feel about free, don’t you?), she introduced me to things in Photoshop I never quite understood and many of which I never even knew about.

Her Skinny Mini tutorial is an introduction to the software, which addresses either PE or the full-blown CS version. The ten-day course is self-paced, which means you can do it at your convenience from the comfort of your own home while wearing bunny slippers. Just sign up, receive a classroom password, review the videos, and go to town! She provides step-by-step instruction and the photos, and also offers a message board and Flickr group to which you can post comments and photos for feedback. It was nice to know that I’m not alone in my Photoshop ineptitude, and I found myself in the good company of some very eager-to-learn and creative people. I think I even picked up a blog follower! Woo hoo!

The course initially reviews the software desktop and menus, as well as basic functions like cropping and adding text.

Before

After

We then delved a bit deeper with layers (something which previously made my head swim) and textures.

Before

After

Words like opacity, dodging and burning suddenly began to make sense.

Before

After

And if you sign up for her mailing list, she’ll provide you with a new texture each week … uh huh, for FREE!

Before

After

I can't believe how much I learned in just ten days!

Have I mastered all the ins and outs of PE yet? Heck no! My post-processing skills will always be a work in progress, but I know where to turn to for guidance. Kim’s website is now my go-to for all PE questions. I realize post-processing isn’t for everyone, but if you’re a creative type like me and have jumped on the Photoshop bandwagon, be sure to visit Kim.

Point of Little Boats: A Visit to Huron County

2011-07-05T00:00:00.007-04:00

If you connect the dots of all the places we visited while criss-crossing the Thumb, our travel path would likely resemble a spider web. There was a lot to discover. Cute little towns planted in the rolling farmland, antique shops jammed with treasures, friendly locals, great eats, and miles and miles and miles of craggy coastline. You’re probably wondering if I’ll ever blog about anything other than lighthouses, but hey … this is Michigan. It’s a peninsula. With miles and miles and miles of lakeshore we’re gonna have lots and lots and lots of these coastal beauties. We ended our weekend tour the way we began.

There are differing opinions as to how Huron County was named. Most agree it was an altered form of the French word Hure, “head of a wild boar,” for the untamed appearance of a tribe of Native Americans. (Ironically, the tribe never adopted this name; they instead called themselves Wendat (Wyandotte), “dwellers on a peninsula”). The county, which is located at the tip of the Thumb, has over 90 miles of Lake Huron beaches and more shoreline parks than any other county. We were headed to one in particular.

Located in Lighthouse County Park, the Pointe aux Barques Light ranks among the ten oldest lighthouses in Michigan. Its name means “point of little boats” and characterizes the shoals and reefs that lurk beneath the shallow waters presenting a hazard to the watercraft that rounds the Thumb from Lake Huron into Saginaw Bay.

The U.S. Lighthouse Service built the first beacon on this site in 1847 after President Polk appropriated $5,000 for its construction; Peter Shook was its first light keeper. His wife Catherine took over after he drowned in 1849 and became Michigan’s first female light keeper (while simultaneously raising eight small children!). There were a total of ten different light keepers of the Pointe aux Barques Lighthouse.

In 1857 the lighthouse and dwelling were replaced with the present 89-foot tower and attached house. A brick assistant keeper’s house was added in 1908. When the last keeper retired in 1939, the Coast Guard converted the tower to an unmanned lighthouse.

By the time we arrived the winds were whipping and the ominous skies threatening to burst. But this type of weather is exactly why lighthouses were built. Bring it on! We poked around the keeper’s dwelling, which today houses a museum containing memorabilia of the lighthouse, its history and keepers, as well as many ship wrecks that lie under the local waters. You can also climb 103 steps to the top of the tower, but it was too late in the day for us to do so. That’s probably a good thing with my fear of heights. Though I would have (eventually) made the effort, I was just as happy to enjoy this one from the ground.

This stop proved to be a great end to a great weekend! Let’s see what else Michigan has to offer …

Carved in Time: A Visit to Sanilac County

2011-07-04T00:00:00.002-04:00

With the technology in today’s world, messages are created and relayed instantaneously. Hit the send key and you can zap an email, text or tweet across the miles in the blink of an eye. But communication wasn’t always this speedy. Think snail mail. When was the last time you actually sat down to handwrite a letter? What about the days before the ballpoint pen when all that was available was quill and ink that had to dry? Or let’s go wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy back centuries before when the first attempts at passing along information were carved in rock. Amazingly, an example of this earliest form of communication can be found in my own backyard.

Sanilac County was named for a Wyandot chief. Some say that Sanilac means “without lake” and it’s true that the county does not have one natural inland lake. But its unique and interesting site makes up for the lack of interior lakeshore. Sanilac Petroglyphs Historic State Park contains Michigan’s only known rock carvings attributable to Native American Indians. They date back 300 to 1,000 years to the Late Woodland Period and, after being discovered following a fire which ravaged the area in 1881, provide a glimpse into the lives of an ancient people who once occupied the area. With Mark’s background in archeology, we’ve been meaning to check this out for some time. We finally made it!

We initially zoomed right past the site’s unmarked parking area, but backtracked and finally located it. Turn left at the dead deer! From the parking lot it’s a quarter-mile walk to the petroglyphs along a crushed limestone trail lined with wild flowers.

The carvings were cut into a type of rock known as Marshall Sandstone. About 340 million years ago the area was a river delta. Sand, mud and lime deposited by the water hardened to form the sandstone. Outcrops of this formation are exposed because the glacial soils that cover much of the Lower Peninsula are very thin in this area.

The soft stone allowed an unknown Native American tribe to easily cut it. That, however, has proven problematic. Subsequent generations had found it just as easy to add their names and doodles; some of the carvings have even been removed! Graffiti and vandalism combined with natural weathering has made the actual petroglyphs difficult to see (and photograph!). Most of the carvings are not discernable at first glance.

I understand it’s best to view them on an overcast day with a flashlight to illuminate them from the side. But with a little bit of concentration and a lot of squinty eyes, the depictions began to emerge: Lines, hands, flying birds, animal tracks, spirals.

The 25 x 40-foot sandstone slab contains roughly 100 carvings.

There is concern that without protection and preservation efforts, the carvings may be lost. As a result, the state has made a series of improvements to the site. A large pavilion has been built over the rock and surrounded by a locked chain link fence to keep out the riff raff. The petroglyphs can typically be viewed during the summer Wednesday through Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. when staffed with interpreters.

The park also contains a 1.5-mile loop over the Little Cass River and through the woods past the remains of a 19th-century logging camp and historic Native American settlements. The trail is open 8 a.m. until 10 p.m. daily. It was hot during our visit so we didn’t check out this part of the park.

The petroglyphs, though? Very cool! What message do you think they send?

Outside the Box: A Visit to Tuscola County

2011-07-03T00:00:00.010-04:00

In addition to coastlines, much of the Thumb of Michigan is characterized by picturesque farmland. Tuscola County proves to be no exception. Its name appears to have been created by our friend Henry Schoolcraft, and is believed to be a combination of Native American words dusinagon, meaning “level,” and cola, meaning “lands.” Through most of the 19th century the county’s main industry was lumber. Unfortunately, in the late 1800s, fire destroyed the land and wiped out its profitable timber industry. The area rebounded by taking advantage of the newly-cleared terrain for farming. By the turn of the 20th century, Tuscola’s county seat and largest city of Caro was home to the second largest beet sugar factory in America. How’s that for a comeback? With all that farmland you know what that means, don’t you? Uh huh. There’s a barn or two in the neighborhood, one of which is really outstanding in its field. (Sorry ... I’m definitely my father’s daughter!)

We were antiquing first thing in the A.M. and struck up conversation with THE nicest people. Tuscola County is also known for its friendliness!

We asked what there was to see in the area and were told a visit to the former Purdy homestead was a must. When I heard the words “octagon barn” I was all over the idea. I had seen it on some website, but dismissed a stop since it was billed as an agricultural museum. Who wants to spend time looking at a bunch of rusty old farm equipment? *ahem* What in the heck do I know? Had the Tuscolans* not pointed us in the direction of the Purdys, we would have missed a true local gem and some major county history. Lesson learned! *(Disclaimer: I have no idea if this is what they are called; I just followed in ‘ole Henry’s footsteps and made it up!)

At the age of 21, James Purdy joined his father at the Bank of P.C. Purdy and Son in the village of Gagetown and soon became its President. Under his leadership the bank flourished and was one of only two in Michigan to remain solvent during the Great Depression. Post-Depression Americans had become leery of financial institutions, so Purdy met with other bankers in Lansing and formulated a plan to restore faith in the banking system. He felt the federal government should insure the investors’ money, and convinced Senator Arthur Vandenburg (from Grand Rapids!) to introduce a bill into the Senate. It gained the support of President FDR and led to the formation of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC). Score one for Purdy!

Through the years Purdy and his wife Cora purchased 520 acres of property at the intersection of Huron Line and Richie Road; their slice of the county pie was known as Mud Lake Estate.

In 1919 they hired local builders George and John Munro to construct their craftsman style bungalow.

The house featured 15 rooms, including three full bathrooms (which was very uncommon in rural Michigan at the time), 8 bedrooms, a fieldstone fireplace, a built-in kitchen icebox, a covered porch used for entertaining and dancing, and a five-room basement set up as living quarters for the hired help.

Needless to say, it was very elegant for its time, and the Purdys welcomed guests willingly and often. The family moved in on May 19, 1922 and resided there until 1942 before returning to Gagetown.

During a trip to Iowa in 1923, Purdy saw an octagonal barn and decided he needed one of his own.

At the time, state and federal agricultural departments were promoting round and octagonal barns as the buildings of the future; you gain more square footage of space from the same amount of material with this design than by building a typical rectangular box-type barn. Plus it looked way cooler! When he returned to Gagetown, Purdy again hired the Munro Brothers to construct a similar structure. It took about a year to complete.

The three-stage roof with dormers and 32 nine-light windows is unique to the Purdy barn; most octagonal barns have a gambrel roof without windows.

The spacious interior features a sophisticated ventilation system and a circular hay track. Okay, I'll admit it ... this was much more interesting than I thought it was going to be. I’ll even go so far as to say that the farm equipment was fascinating!

We also learned that most of the property Purdy had acquired was swampland. His goal was to build a peat-fired plant to generate power to Gagetown and neighboring Owendale. Unfortunately, he abandoned the idea after discovering he couldn’t get the peat hot enough to produce the amount of steam needed for the engine to drive the generator at a constant RPM. Commercial power was finally brought to the site in 1938, but the restored powerhouse still stands as testimony to Purdy’s ingenuity.

The farm had several owners after the Purdys and parcels of land were eventually sold off. In 1991 the DNR purchased 80 acres which had been deeded to the Pinney State Bank of Cass City (now Chemical Bank); this parcel connected two larger parcels already part of the Gagetown State Game Area. The DNR had no interest in the buildings that came with the property and considered demolishing them. The locals were horrified. Enter Friends of the Thumb Octagon Barn.

A group of concerned citizens banded together to save the barn and other structures. Working with the DNR, they obtained the right to use the land and restore the buildings. In exchange for providing liability insurance for the property and presenting a 25-year plan outlining their objectives for the site, they control 8.2 acres and have permission to hold events there. A win-win for all involved!

Once the original buildings at the site were secure from further deterioration, the Friends developed an Agricultural Museum for the Thumb Area. Volunteer caretakers greet visitors and offer a history of the site, as well as attend to the lawn and flowerbeds. Needless to say, ongoing restoration and maintenance cost big bucks. A nominal fee is charged for the 90-mintue tour of the barn and house, though I have no idea of what it is since Mark paid for it (read: he’s a great travel companion!).

If you ever find yourself in the middle of Tuscola County farm country, track down and see the Thumb Octagon Barn and Agricultural Museum. It’s worth the visit!

Blue Water: A Visit to St. Clair County

2011-07-02T00:00:00.045-04:00

On the eastern shore of Michigan lie nine quaint waterfront communities and 140 miles of coastline. Parks, boardwalks and beaches (and antique stores!) border Lake Huron and the St. Clair River. The waters in this area are cobalt and turquoise and sapphire. But would you expect any less from something called the Blue Water Area?

Due to travel plans which were altered at the eleventh hour for Memorial Weekend, we decided to resurrect our idea to tour the Thumb. Neither Mark nor I had ever visited this part of Michigan before and figured we could cover a lot of ground over the holiday weekend. St. Clair County is at the southern end of the Blue Water Area and where we began.

First stop St. Clair. What a charming little town! Palmer Park is a primo riverside public area earmarked for recreation and relaxation. The St. Clair River is one of the heaviest traveled rivers in the world, and connects the southern end of Lake Huron to the northern end of Lake St. Clair. As part of the world’s longest shipping canal—the 2,347-mile St. Lawrence Seaway—it’s not uncommon to see freighters passing up and down the river. And across the waterway? That’s Canada, eh!

A bit farther is the Blue Water Bridge. Opened in 1997, the international border crossing is a major trade and transportation link between Port Huron in the U.S. and Sarnia in Canada. Not sure if it’s an everyday occurrence or just a holiday thing, but on the day we were there it was lined with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

But my favorite part of the county, though I’m sure this comes as no surprise, is the Fort Gratiot Lighthouse. The oldest in Michigan, it was built in 1829 by Lucius Lyon who became one of Michigan’s first two U.S. Senators. The light marks the entrance to the St. Clair River from Lake Huron.

The grounds are an active Coast Guard facility, but recently became part of the Port Huron Museum.

It is closed to the public, as was evidenced by the barbed wire surrounding the property. We had to walk down to the beach from Lighthouse Park in order to get a photo-worthy perspective of the building. I was so intent on finding just the right angle that I didn’t watch where I was going. I tripped over a piece of downed fence and managed to spear a toe. Ouch! As well … not only have I managed to tour another Michigan county, but by bleeding into Lake Huron I left a part of me there as well!

A Bear to Climb

2011-05-30T00:00:00.026-04:00

I once dated this guy named Marc. Okay, maybe I went out with him twice. Three times tops. In any event, I was first attracted to him for his seemingly adventurous attitude. He had been scuba diving, swam with sharks, toured the country via motorcycle, and even had way more stamps in his National Parks Passport than I did. When comparing notes, however, I became disenchanted. His method was to roll up to a park, obtain its stamp and go. It seems he was much more interested in collecting ink than experiences. Kindred spirits? I think not!

Most national parks have a 20-minute or less orientation film that describes the site and the events surrounding its importance. This gives a quick history lesson on what makes the park unique. If the site isn’t your thing, at least you can say you understand the park and you’re not just running in and out. Honestly!

Enter Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Another great place to visit in Michigan and one I’ve been to many times. This site actually has more than one passport cancellation location: the main Visitor Center in Empire, the D.H. Day Store in Glen Haven, South Manitou Island and the Dune Center. To date, however, I only had stamps from Empire because, as you are well aware by now, I had not yet experienced the other locales. Today was the day, however, that I was going to literally forge ahead, uphill no less!

I’ve wanted to do the Dune Climb for as long as I can remember, but never had a willing partner in crime. Gotta love my niece. That girl will try just about anything once. After she agreed to tackle it with me, we were off.

Um, yeah. Did I happen to mention that Faith is nearly 40 years younger than I am? She sprinted right up that hill.

I call her Super Girl.

Me? Wonder Wimp. I thought … I was going … to die. Medic! Trust me; it’s a lot harder than it looks, and hell on the legs and lungs. And did I happen to mention that all the foul weather we had earlier in the weekend had finally dissipated? Today’s temps were more to akin to a typical Memorial Day as it was sunny and they soared near the mid 80s. It was hot, hot, hot on that dune. Bless my sister for insisting we wear sunscreen (and deodorant).

Climbing to the top was indeed strenuous (for me, at least), but very rewarding. We were afforded a stunning view of Glen Lake.

This photo, taken from the parking lot, gives a bit more perspective and shows how far we got.

At the top of the dune is a marked trail which leads to Lake Michigan. The whole trip is about 3.5 miles and can take hours. If we didn’t have people waiting on us and a bit more time (and lung endurance), we would have done it.

After 45 minutes we were ready to head back down. At least gravity was on my side for the return trip!

Cool experience and one which I believe deserved the Dune Center passport stamp!

Mission (Point) Accomplished: A Visit to Grand Traverse County

2011-05-29T00:00:00.034-04:00

Like its neighbor Leelanau County, Grand Traverse County is also located in the northwestern section of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. It features the East and West Bays, which are separated by Old Mission Peninsula. The peninsula is, in fact, from where the county name was derived. This area was traveled by French explorers in the late 1830s, who dubbed the walk across the peninsula La Grande Traverse, “a long distance.” At 16 miles in length, the finger-like projection into Grand Traverse Bay may be only half as long as the Leelanau peninsula, but it is just as unique and scenic.

Old Mission Peninsula is another of my favorite Michigan locales and I make it a point to visit the point every time I’m in the area. With wineries, B&Bs, farm markets and restaurants, there is never a shortage of things to see and do. This time around we were on a mission (pun intended!) to check out its antique stores and unearthed some great treasures at Walt & Susan’s Antique Shop. It was here that I discovered the peninsula also is home to a quilt barn trail. I grabbed a brochure and headed out to explore.

Quilts, of course, have been made for centuries. Pioneer woman of the day were very creative recyclers and crafted their coverlets from anything that could be sewn together. They concocted patterns with names like Flying Geese, Bear Paw and Trip Around the World. Quilting bees became a community project where they gathered to piece together their quilts … and gossip, I’ll bet!

The quilts of the Old Mission Peninsula are on barns. The designs are chosen and funded by the barn owners, and have historical and personal significance. I, of course, wanted to find all 14 of them, but Mark wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. This was not going to be another covered bridge undertaking! In the end, we comprised and located four.

The 1910 Feiger barn (pictured above), where the three-story antique shop is located, displays a tulip pattern. Civil War era quilts were typically crafted with dark red, green and white fabric.

The Chown barn was built in 1870 and is a landmark farm. Its design is a modified Bear Paw pattern, which was taken from a quilt made by the owner’s great-grandmother and her sister-in-law.

The quilt square on the Johnson salt-style barn has a windmill pattern displaying cherries in the middle, which is the farm’s prime crop. This barn was built in 1880.

Finally, the Myer’s barn was built in 1910 and has been restored. Its owner designed the quilt square for their “Bewitched Farm” since her birthday is on Halloween.

I loved finding these barns and learning of their histories. I think a return trip (perhaps when the peninsula is ablaze in autumn?) to see the remaining ten is definitely in order. But for now, there was one additional stop to be made on Old Mission Peninsula. Three guesses as to what we’ll see; first two don’t count!

The last time I was at Old Mission Point was in July 2009. This time I was surprised to see how much the shoreline had receded. It was just as rocky, but had a lot less water. And tons of mud! I lost my shoe several times while trying to photograph the Mission Point Lighthouse. The sacrifices I make for the sake of a good picture!

When the lighthouse was built in 1870, it was an exact replica of the Mama Juda Lighthouse (now destroyed), which was built on the Detroit River in 1866. Though this building is only 1.5 stories tall, it is perched on a sand bank and towers 14 feet above the lake.

The structure was decommissioned in 1933 and opened to the public in 2008. Self-guided tours, including access to the tower, are available for $4; we opted out this time around. The Hessler Log Cabin, a turn-of-the-century log cabin, is also located on the lighthouse grounds.

The lighthouse’s other claim to fame is that it stands at the 45th parallel north, which marks the halfway point between the North Pole and the Equator. Someday I’m going to have to dig out all the photos I have of this sign; there are many!

I learned, however, that this is just one of 29 places in the United States (six of which are in Michigan) where such signs are known to exist. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm … Okay, you’re right. It WOULD be fun to track them all down, but Lord knows I’ve got enough going on these days.

With my second county successfully visited, it’s on to discover other Michigan treasures.

Seeing the Light: A Visit to Leelanau County

2011-05-28T00:00:00.018-04:00

Leelanau County encompasses the entire 30-mile peninsula between Lake Michigan and Grand Traverse Bay. “Leelanau” is an Indian word meaning “Delight of Life.” The name was suggested by Michigan Indian agent Henry Schoolcraft during the mid 1800s and perfectly describes what you experience when traveling this little finger of our mitten state. In addition to dual coastlines are sweeping dunes, uninhabited islands, inland lakes and cherry orchards. And lighthouses!

As I previously mentioned, I’ve traversed Leelanau County many times, but I’ve never been to its northernmost point. What was I thinking? Who knew there was a lighthouse there? The more important question, however, is did you really expect this Michigan county tour to begin with something other than a lighthouse?

The Grand Traverse Lighthouse is located inside Leelanau State Park, eight miles north of Northport. Its website indicated it didn’t open until noon, so we were pleasantly surprised to discover that the restored structure, now a museum, was indeed available to tour when we arrived that morning. For $4 a pop, we were transported back in time to learn of its history and its keepers.

Sometimes called the Cat’s Head Point Light, or the Northport Light in honor of the nearby town, the present lighthouse was constructed in 1858 to guide freighters through the Manitou Passage. Built in a more visible location than its predecessor, it replaced the original 1852 Grand Traverse Light Station constructed by the U.S. Lighthouse Service. The fog signal building was added in 1899, and a year later the lighthouse converted to a two-family dwelling. The building was closed in 1972 when an automatic light tower was erected, but reopened to the public in 1986.

The lighthouse has been restored to resemble a keeper’s home of the 1920s and 1930s, and also houses exhibits on area lighthouses, foghorns, shipwrecks and local history.

Interestingly, if you’ve ever wanted to stay in a lighthouse, this is the place for you. The Keepers Program affords lighthouse lovers an opportunity to spend a week in the structure as its keeper! You get to live in the northern apartment of the lighthouse, greet visitors and provided them with historical information. How cool is that?

We also were able to climb the tower

and enjoy a bird’s eye view of the fog signal building and neighboring islands.

With my fear of heights I usually only manage to do this after freaking out for a good ten minutes, but this one had just a short staircase and ladder. Piece of cake!

There’s much, much more of Leelanau to experience, but I’d say this is a pretty good start to the county and the State of Michigan. One down, 82 to go!

Hello Summer; Hello Michigan!

2011-05-27T00:00:00.018-04:00

Even though summer, according to the calendar, doesn’t begin until June 21, I’ve always considered it to be whatever you can manage to sandwich between Memorial and Labor Days. I’m 25 days too early to be official, but I’m kickin’ ‘er off this weekend.

Mark and I originally made plans to tour the Thumb Area, but then got another offer. One of the attorneys for whom I do work has a family house on Grand Traverse Bay. They were headed to Denver and said we should use the place in their absence. Are we voting on this?!?!? He assured me there was plenty of room for lots o’ peeps, so we invited my sister and her family to join us.

Mark’s father hails from the Leelanau Peninsula and we’ve been there a gazillion times. In fact, it’s one of my favorite places in Michigan. Love the wineries, the lakeshore, the cute little harbor towns. There’s just something about being on the water, and Lake Michigan in particular, that gets to my core.

I don’t recall, however, ever poking around the northernmost tip on the bay side of the county. This would be new territory to explore.

Michigan may have some beautiful scenery, but it also has THE most unpredictable weather. During a weekend that was supposed to initiate summer, we actually had to turn up the thermostat and pop open an umbrella because of the storms rollin’ through.

But that’s okay. We aren’t really plop-your-butt-in-a-lawn-chair-and-sit-on-the-beach-for-a-weekend kind of folks. There are always places to go, things to do, and people to see.

Yummy eats in non-chain establishments were a must. Pancakes at the FlapJack Shack,

lake perch at Fischer’s Happy Hour Tavern (it’s not a trip to northern Michigan unless you indulge in the local catch), Boone’s Prime Time Pub for a juicy steak and celebratory glass of Michigan wine in honor of Karen’s 29th (again!) birthday, and breakfast (twice!) at the North End Eatery all fit the bill. The latter had just opened for biz in Northport. While they still have a few kinks to work out, we loved the hospitality and food that Pauli and Kristie provide.

There were fragrant blossoms everywhere and …

Oh look! A crumbly, old building!

But I found even cooler architecture. Can’t you just see me living here? Maybe in my next life …

We stopped to visit a few relatives, too.

And, despite the inclement weather, managed to catch a Lake Michigan sunset!

Isn’t it funny how you can tour your own backyard time and time again, yet never fully realize all that is there? This got me to thinkin’ … (yes, I know, that can be dangerous) so I did a Google search and formulated a plan. In addition to Leelanau, Michigan is comprised of 82 more counties, each with its own nooks and crannies. Now I know I already have wayyyyyyyyyyy more on my bucket list than I’ll probably ever have time for, but what’s another goal? No. 202 has been added and reads, “Visit all 83 counties in Michigan.” It will be fun to discover the treasures that our state, and each of its counties in particular, has to offer and should keep me out of (too much) trouble this summer and for years to come.

But what exactly constitutes a visit? I’ve crossed many states lines and spent many hours laying over in airports around the world. I’m of the opinion that simply “passing through” does not count. To get a feel for what's really going on, you’ve got to invest a bit more time and effort than a mere gas station potty break or souvie purchase in Terminal 1. Simply put, I want to explore, to discover, to do.

So do I shall. Stay tuned … the water may not be warm, but I’m jumping in!

White Haven

2011-05-02T00:00:00.028-04:00

I gave up all of the property owned by General Grant: some in Chicago … in Philadelphia, and last, though not least, the dear old homestead in Missouri, White Haven. When I signed this last deed, it well-nigh broke my heart.

~Julia Dent Grant

With fam and festivities in our rearview mirror, the car was pointed north and headed for home. We were only an hour south of St. Louis and had tossed around the idea of stopping at the Gateway to the West. “Ride the tram to the top of the Gateway Arch” is No. 168 on my life list, a task which I officially completed in 1999 during a prior trip to St. Louis and again while there in 2008. The Arch is like no other attraction and, to truly appreciate it, a ride to the top is definitely in order. From that vantage point, the panoramic view of the St. Louis area is stunning … though the journey to get there is rather harrowing. Prone to a fear of heights, I opted out this time and instead suggested a site I had previously missed.

White Haven was originally acquired by Colonel Frederick Dent as a summer home in 1820 and eventually became his family’s primary residence. Invited by his former West Point roommate Fred Dent, it was here Ulysses S. Grant first met his future wife Julia. When he asked her father for permission to marry her, he was instead offered her younger sister Ellen! He proposed to Julia in 1844, but their marriage was delayed until 1848 due to his service in the war with Mexico.

The White Haven property was a focal point in the Grants’ lives for four decades. They lived here off and on during the 1850s. Although the family moved to Galena, Illinois, in 1860, they continued to think of White Haven as their home. By the time Grant became President, he owned nearly 650 acres of the White Haven farm and began readying the property for a relaxing retirement. Although he had to abandon those plans when his life detoured to Washington, he retained ownership of the property until a few months before his death in 1885. White Haven was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1986.

Our first stop was at the Visitor Center’s theater to view a 16-minute introductory film, A Place Called White Haven. Over the years and through my visits to various national parks, I’ve learned many things about Ulysses S. Grant and the mark he made on our nation. What I discovered this time around, and something I found most fascinating given his renowned reputation as the savior of the Union and a two-term president, was that he never wanted to run for public office, but did so because he believed it to be his civic duty!

A free guided tour of the house was offered following the film, but we instead did our own exploration of the site. In addition to the main house, exhibits on the grounds tell about the property and its people in the 19th century. Several outbuildings have been restored to their 1875 appearance, including an ice house and a chicken house. An interpretive museum is also located in the historic stable, which places the Grants within the context of 19th century American history and details the important role Ulysses Grant played in our nation’s past.

We could have spent much more time than we did at this site, but antique stores were calling our name. I did, however, score another stamp in my National Parks Passport (well, actually two since there was a special stamp for the Passport’s 25th anniversary!) and learned a bit more about one of America’s most iconic Presidents and his family. White Haven was more than just a house; it was a home. Well worth the visit!

Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal

2011-05-01T00:00:00.025-04:00

Okay. I lied ... which, I suppose in the context of this post, is not a good thing. But there IS something really amazing to see in the thriving metropolis of Perryville, Missouri and we had a chance to check it out during that “what in the heck are we going to do between the wedding ceremony and the reception?” window of time.

When we were wondering how we were going to kill a couple of hours, Mark’s sisters (who had been in town for the entire weekend) told us about a shrine that they were told was worth visiting. I love churches the way I love barns … and lighthouses … and covered bridges. Must be an architectural thing, huh? We’re game; count us in! The five of us headed just a few blocks north.

Saint Mary’s of the Barrens Church is modeled after the chapel at Monte Citorio, the Vincentian motherhouse in Rome. Construction of St. Mary’s began in 1827. The original architecture of the church was Tuscan Renaissance, but renovations altered it to the Romanesque style. The freestanding Angeles bell tower dates to 1980 and matches the 1913 refurbished façade.

When we walked inside, it literally took our breath away. We poked around for several minutes before one of the parishioners offered us a guided tour. I really wish I had written down her name; she was so lovely and her tour informative. Like the churches I saw in Italy, this too was like a mini museum and has its own story to tell.

Above the back wall altar in the large sanctuary is an exact copy of Murillo’s Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which was imported from Germany.

The sanctuary’s dome painting features the Ascension. This is the spot where hundreds of priests were ordained, many of whom have influenced the early history of the church in America.

On the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the nave is a painting of Saint Vincent de Paul.

He is pictured with angels in heaven and with the men and women of the two communities he founded in the 1600’s: the Congregation of the Mission (the Vincentian priests and brothers) and the Daughters of Charity (the sisters community).

In the back of the church is the Rose Window, Raphael’s Madonna of the Chair, which was added in the 1913-1920 renovations. The present organ was bought used, rebuilt, and placed in 1972. It has 11.5 ranks and over 700 hundred pipes, 122 of which are from the original tracker organ formerly located in the sanctuary choir loft.

The church also has eight side chapels with amazing sculptures and paintings which commemorate various Catholic devotions and saints. The Little Flower Chapel,

the Saint Louise de Marillac Chapel, the Saint Joseph Chapel, the Sacred Heart Chapel, the Passion Chapel, the Saint Vincent de Paul Chapel, and the Saint John Gabriel Perboyre Chapel.

The most breathtaking chapel, however, is the National Shrine to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal. For those of you not up to speed on your Catholicism, a Marian apparition is an event in which the Blessed Virgin Mary is believed to have supernaturally appeared to one or more people. The vision of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal is said to have appeared to Saint Catherine Labouré in 1830 in the convent of Rue du Bac, Paris. She reported that one night in the chapel, Mary appeared to her and asked that a medallion be made to a design that she dictated. She added that, “All who wear this medal will receive great graces.” After spending two years examining St. Catherine’s claims, her priest eventually took the information to his archbishop. The medal eventually produced became known as the Miraculous Medal.

The shrine was added to the church in 1929-1930 by promoters of the Association of the Miraculous Medal and replaced an older shrine of Mary which had originally been built. The chapel ceiling has a copy of a painting found at the Mother House of the Daughters of Charity in Paris. The top of the painting shows Mary as she appears on the medal and below Saint Catherine distributing medals to the people of Paris.

Stained glass windows above the altar depict the first and second apparitions of Mary and Saint Catherine, and the third is portrayed in a painting where Mary reveals the design of the medal.

The statue above the altar and the words in the archway, “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee,” detail the front of the medal. The back of the medal is depicted in the base of the altar with the large “M” surmounted by a cross, the twelve stars symbolizing the apostles, who are the foundation stones of the Church, and the stars of heaven (Mary is Queen of Heaven). We each were offered a Miraculous Medal and I readily accepted. It is said to provide extraordinary graces for those who wear it and I need all the help I can get!

The remaining sites of the Saint Mary’s of the Barrens Historic District, including a grotto and the Vincentian Community Cemetery, were located outside. Unfortunately, it had started to rain and we were out of time. I don’t know if or when I’ll ever be back in Perryville, Missouri, but this unexpected pleasure during our stay there was absolutely stunning and a most welcomed discovery. If you ever find yourself in the area, it definitely is well worth the visit!

National Shrine of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal

1811 West Saint Joseph Street

Perryville, Missouri

I Do ... Again!

2011-04-30T00:00:00.023-04:00

Perryville, Missouri. Quintessential small town America. Estimated population 8,172. Other than being the seat of Perry County and boasting a handful of wineries, the 7.7 square acres that encompass the city have no real claim to fame. But when it is home to one particular young man to whom your niece is about to marry—this time in the presence of family and friends—you have no qualms about jumping in the car and heading south to lands unknown and undistinguished.

Jeremy and Jessica have your traditional boy-meets-girl love story, with a twist. A chance encounter during spring break evolved from a budding romance into full-fledged adoration and plans to wed. When Jess enlisted in the Coast Guard, however, a quickie civil ceremony was in order, as was the promise of a more formal celebration down the road. That day had finally arrived and we were Perryville bound to join family for the festivities.

It’s a good thing Catholic Masses last (way) longer than ten minutes. Since we were utilizing hotel points for freebie stays during this road trip, and because Perryville is home to neither Marriott nor Hilton properties, we spent the night across the river in Cardondale, Illinois. We figured we could easily make the one-hour commute the next day. Unfortunately, floodwaters covered our route into Missouri and dictated more detours. We slid into the back pew ten minutes after the ceremony had begun.

It was lovely, with Jeremy’s uncle—and godfather!—officiating.

Kelli, another niece, was Maid of Honor.

Also in attendance were four of Mark’s sisters

Debbie, Teresa, Julie, Amy

and five of his other nieces … and a token nephew!

Kelli, Christina, Lisa, Jessica, Copeland, Alison, Stephanie

I look at them and wonder … when in the heck did they all grow up??? Our goddaughter, Christina, was born on the day Mark proposed to me.

Now? She and many of her cousins are married with children of their own, two of whom were THE cutest flower girls evah!

Bailey and Kaelyn

Things of course got turned up a notch once we were at the reception and the alcohol was freely flowing. We managed to get Mark onto the dance floor for a spin with the lovely bride

and for the last dance of the night. Who knew Stairway to Heaven was such a long song?!?!? He he he ... (One of THE greatest songs of all time and one which we played at OUR wedding nearly 25 years ago! Rock on!)

It was great to catch up with Mark’s family and I’m so glad we had a chance to celebrate with them.

Congrats, Jessica and Jeremy! Blessings and love!

Carlsbad of America

2011-04-29T00:00:00.191-04:00

When homeward bound in 2008 after a trip to Little Rock and Memphis, we found ourselves in Southern Indiana. We had plans to tour the Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial and I also wanted to visit historic Vincennes, site of the George Rogers Clark National Historic Park. My mission, of course, was to score stamps in my national park passport. In Evansville, however, we happened upon Angel Mounds, site of a palisaded Middle Mississippi Indian village occupied circa 1500 A.D. There was no need to vote. With Mark’s background in archeology, we stopped there instead. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not always about me.

On our current-day trip to Missouri, I was determined to see Vincennes, the Clark Memorial and several more covered bridges … until our waitress at dinner told us about a must-see in West Baden. She relayed details of a grand hotel with a domed atrium. I’m all about swanky accommodations and was intrigued. As she talked, I realized I had heard about this place before. I swear it was Mark who had sent me the internet link, but he didn’t remember doing so. Now that I think about it, though, it may have been post divorce rebound boyfriend. So many men to keep track of … In any event, Mark was quick to decide: “Let’s do it; I’ve seen enough bridges!” (Hmmm … you think he’s still harboring a grudge from being hauled around Madison County?) Vincennes would yet again have to wait since detour we did. It turned out to be a fabulous decision and a stop well worth our altered plan.

Through a guided tour for a mere $10, Indiana Landmarks offered us an opportunity to immerse in the story of turn-of-the-century West Baden Springs Hotel. We had initially made reservations for the 2 p.m. tour, but were running a tad bit behind schedule. When you walk into an antique store in BF Indiana and discover you’ve landed in Russel Wright heaven, you become sidetracked.

But more about this great find in another post. A quick call to the hotel assured us we could be accommodated in the 4 p.m. tour instead. We were to meet in the gift shop ten minutes before the appointed time.

It’s a bit difficult to appreciate the hotel from its exterior as it’s hidden amongst the trees, but approaching the structure through arches and along a winding drive offers the first clue as to what is in store.

Ditto for the Ladies Room. Mark said the Men’s Room wasn’t as glamorous and he was right … I checked!

But it wasn’t until our tour began and we stepped into the 200-foot-diameter atrium that we discovered what a breathtaking monument it truly is.

The intriguing history of West Baden Springs Hotel dates back to 1778 when George Rogers Clark discovered the area’s mineral springs and salt licks. The supposed restorative waters, coupled with the tranquil landscape of Southern Indiana, have been a draw throughout the years to people searching for respite from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

The region’s reputation as a mineral springs resort area began with the building of the French Lick Springs Hotel in 1832. Another hotel followed in the nearby town of Mile Lick—later renamed West Baden after the famous mineral springs in Wiesbaden, Germany—in 1855.

By the late 19th century, as many as 14 daily trains carried health seekers to and from to the valley for relaxation and rejuvenation.

Lee W. Sinclair transformed the hotel into a sophisticated resort when he assumed ownership in 1888. He added an opera house, a golf course, a casino advertised as the Carlsbad of America, and a double-decker pony and bicycle track. A lighted baseball diamond in the center of the track became the spring training grounds for several major league teams, including the Cincinnati Reds, Chicago White Sox, Chicago Cubs and Pittsburgh Pirates.

Unfortunately, fire ravaged and destroyed the hotel in less than two hours in 1901. Fortunately all guests were unharmed.

Sinclair used the opportunity to build the hotel of his dreams: a circular building modeled after the grandest spas of Europe, topped with the world’s largest free-spanning dome.

Unlike contemporaries who argued it couldn’t be done, 35-year-old architect Harrison Albright of West Virginia accepted the challenge to complete the grandiose building with a budget of $414,000 and a one-year timeline. With a 500-man crew working six days a week in 10-hour shifts, the structure was completed before the first anniversary of the fire in just 270 days!

Dubbed the Eighth Wonder of the World, the hotel was a haven for celebrities and political figures back in the day. Al Capone and Diamond Jim Brady were frequent guests, as were Chicago’s Mayor “Big Bill” Thompson and New York Governor and presidential candidate Alfred E. Smith. Some early advertisements claimed over 700 rooms, but sources today cite only about 500. Of course, the hotel rooms back then were small by today’s standards; most had one or two twin beds and no private bathroom. Today’s reconfigured space contains 243 rooms and suites, fewer than half of the total in the original structure.

After Sinclair died in 1916, his daughter and her husband took over the hotel’s operation and completed the massive renovation effort begun in 1913.

Overextended by the restoration, Lillian Sinclair sold the hotel to Ed Ballard in 1923 for $1 million. Ballard began his career with the hotel as a bowling alley worker and made his fortune by operating a flourishing—albeit illegal—gambling business in the area. Following the stock market crash of 1929, he sold the hotel in 1934 to the Jesuits for $1. They eliminated many of the property’s elegant appointments and operated it as a seminary college for 30 years. They also established a cemetery and interred 39 of the seminary’s priests over the years. When the Jesuits sold the facility, they retained ownership of that small parcel of land, which the Catholic Church in French Lick agreed to maintain.

Although the property was listed as a National Historic Landmark in 1974, it was closed to the public in 1989 for safety reasons. In January 1991 a buildup of ice and water on the roof and in drain pipes caused the collapse of a portion of the exterior wall. The collapse affected less than 10% of the exterior masonry ring that surrounds the dome and the dome itself remained structurally sound.

Through an anonymous contribution, the Historic Landmark Foundation of Indiana purchased West Baden Springs Hotel in 1996 for $250,000. That same year, Bill and Gayle Cook and their Bloomington, Indiana-based company Cook Group Inc. contributed to stabilization and partial restoration of the hotel and its grounds. Initially committed to spending $12-14 million on the property, their expenditures eventually tallied a whopping $30 million on the Phase I restoration (1996-early 1999) and an additional $5 million in maintenance (1999-2004).

After an extensive search for owners to complete the restoration, CGC Incorporated, a Cook Group company, purchased both West Baden Springs and French Lick Springs Hotels in 2005. Its $500 million historic restoration project also included the development of Indiana’s 11th casino.

The tour was very informative with all of its behind-the-scenes facts and I’m glad we decided to discover the hotel that way. Because of all the flooding in the area, much of the grounds were under water and not included in the tour. When it was said and done, however, we were encouraged to explore on our own. Even though we couldn't get very far, we did just that.

The West Baden Springs Hotel is absolutely stunning and proved to be a very worthwhile deviation from our original touring plans. I love when that happens! As for Vincennes? I’ll catch it the next time I’m in the area; I don’t think it will be too far in the future. As we headed back through that archway, Mark and I looked at each other and declared, “We’re going to come back and stay here!”

Indiana Bridges and Barns

2011-04-28T00:00:00.000-04:00

I was having dinner with Tracey and relayed upcoming plans for roadtrippin’ through the Midwest en route to a family wedding. Antiquing was of course on the agenda, but I questioned what else there was to see and do.

“Did you know there are covered bridges near Indianapolis?” she wondered.

Really? Oh, Mark’s gonna love this!

Tracey and I worked together back in 2006 when he and I did an impromptu holiday weekend through Iowa. She well remembered my stories of how we bounced down the gravel back roads of Madison County so I could photograph all six of its covered bridges. Let’s just say Mark was an incredible sport. I had no idea there were similar structures in Indiana, let alone along the very path we would be taking to Missouri. I jumped on line to see what I could discover (what did we used to do before Google?) and found an entire website dedicated to the covered bridges of the Hoosier State (http://www.countyhistory.com/index.html). Comparing the location of the 91 standing covered bridges to our travel route, we could see another half dozen or so. Major score! And as an added bonus, I found out there were a whole lotta round barns in the area as well. You already know how I feel about barns …

Fast forward to travel day. Our first stop was along the banks of the Mississinewa River. The Matthews Covered Bridge, which is also known as the Cumberland Covered Bridge, crosses the waters on the east edge of Matthews in Grant County. You know you’re in rural America when the thoroughfare you’re looking for is called County Road South 990! With ever-dependable Bernice Garmin narrating the way, we found the bridge without incident.

The first bridge in Matthews was an open structure built in 1863 by William Parks. In 1878 the Smith Bridge Company built an uncovered structure at the same location for $722; a local contractor finished the roof and siding in 1879. This single-span Howe Truss structure has a length of 175 feet, or 183 feet if you include the 4-foot overhang at each end. A flood floated it a half mile downstream in 1913 before it was returned to its foundation by rollers and horsepower. Though no historical marker is present, the Matthews Covered Bridge was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978. After many years of use, this structure was restored in 1999 and can still be traversed today.

By the time we reached Bartholomew County, we were seriously running against the clock and rapidly losing daylight. Worst case scenario was that if it was too dark by the time we found Mill Race Park where the New Brownsville Bridge crosses the edge of a pond, we’d double-back and check it out in the morning. But it was not meant to be. We were double-whammied by the torrential downpours which plagued the area earlier in week. Major flooding had occurred and the roads in the park were closed. We were disappointed, but filed away a visit for the next time we are in the area. Columbus, Indiana looks like a great place to explore.

Strikes 2 and 3 occurred the next morning while at the Jackson Country Visitor Center. We learned the Bell Ford Covered Bridge had collapsed into the White River back in 2006 and existed no more. Boo! Flood waters had run rampant here as well and also rendered the Medora Covered Bridge inaccessible. Boo! But despite its near-flood conditions,

we were able to see the Shieldstown Covered Bridge. Hurray!

Located near Brownstown on … yes, you guessed it … County Road 200 North, the Shieldstown Covered Bridge was the fourth and last of such structures to be constructed in Jackson County. Built by JJ Daniels at a cost of $13,600, the two-span bridge was completed on November 17, 1876. The 355-foot long structure spans the east fork of the White River and looks similar to the Matthews Covered Bridge. This one, however, utilizes the Burr Arch truss system. It was closed to traffic in the 1980s.

Jackson County is also home to two round barns. The Stuckwish Barn is located on County Road 460 West (do we see a theme here?) in Driftwood Township. Completed in 1911 by Daryl Carter for George Stuckwish, it was patterned after the nearby Mahan round barn.

It’s 60 feet in diameter with a self-supporting two-pitch gambrel roof and was constructed of locally milled beech wood. The Mahan barn was purchased by Mr. Stuckwish in 1913, but destroyed by fire in 1983.

The Hall Barn? Strike 4! When built in 1910 by Louis Geyer, the well-equipped barn boasted a roomy drive and an apartment for a veterinarian. Unfortunately, it was also located in the now-flooded Medora area on what appeared to be a private farm. Now I have no qualms about trespassing to obtain good photos (shhhhh … my motto has always been that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission), but Mark assured me his Traverse was not capable of swimming. That winding road was well underwater and we were only able to admire the structure from afar …

and through a zoom lens!

At least the weeds were flourishing in all that water.

Time to get the heck out of Jackson County!

We always come up with a loose game plan as to what we want to see and do while exploring. No sense in showing up someplace without a clue as to what it has to offer, right? Yet we are more than flexible and willing to switch from Plan A to Plan B if a change of plans is warranted. This time around we did just that. To make a long story short (more details in my next post), we turned left and headed south instead of traveling west to Vincennes. The George Rogers Clark National Historic Park and several more covered bridges would have to wait.

Couple the wrath of the weather gods with an impromptu detour and in actuality we only ended up seeing two bridges and a barn and a half. Ah well, better those than none at all, huh? We’ll take what we can get!

Smile!

2011-04-27T00:00:00.001-04:00

Is a smile a question? Or is it the answer?
~ Lee Smith

A Frog

2011-04-13T00:00:00.066-04:00

During our visit to the Frederik Meijer Gardens, Aunt Cecile and I also had an opportunity to check out Jim Dine: Sculpture. Dine is an American artist whose work emerged in the late 1950s and early 1960s during the Pop Art movement. He and contemporaries such as Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstien challenged the art world by asserting that an artist’s use of modern materials, popular imagery and absurd contrast could stand side by side with traditional works.

Dine was admired for his paintings and graphic work, but his effort as a sculptor is less known. The retrospective exhibition at the Gardens is the first of its kind and traces the origins of his sculpture from rarely seen early work to his more current endeavors. Recurring iconic themes range from tools to Venus to the heart and, most recently, to Pinocchio.

Indeed, while we perused the exhibit, we noticed that Dine produced his pop art with items from everyday life: Hammers, hay, scrap metal, shoes, wood, and even an electric toothbrush! I love modern art, but this was some funky stuff. Quite frankly, we didn’t really get it and wondered what in the heck he had been thinking … or smoking!

“He’s not Chihuly,” I remarked, which led to our more in-depth analysis. Some works of art speak to us while others don’t. You’ve got to kiss some frogs before you find a prince! Nevertheless, while we won’t love or necessarily understand everything in the art world, we certainly can appreciate it.

Photography, of course, was not allowed in the sculpture gallery. I am, however, able to share the works of Dine which were displayed on the neighboring terrace and in the conservatory.

The Technicolor Heart (The Big One), 2004

Venus in Five Colors, 2007

But don’t let just these two pieces and comments from the peanut gallery sway your opinion one way or the other. The exhibit runs through May 8. Visit the Gardens and decide for yourself if Dine is a prince or a frog.

Butterflies Are Blooming!

2011-04-12T00:00:00.066-04:00

I received an email from my Aunt Cecile wondering, “Are you available for lunch? It has been a while .…” We usually try to get together every other month or so, but gosh … I think the last time we did that was before the holidays. We were definitely overdue.

I picked her up at the appointed time and asked where we were headed. “I have an idea,” she told me. Now you have to realize that when we become partners in crime, anything can happen. Like last September when we headed to Grand Haven for lunch. Six hours later we not only had dined, but also accomplished thrifting, an art walk and a lighthouse photo shoot as well. (I’ve really got to get caught up on those last few posts from 2010; that was a fabulous day!) This time her proposed adventure kept us closer to home, but nonetheless was another wonderful idea.

She has a Frederik Meijer Gardens membership. We could lunch at the Taste of Gardens Café and then check out both Jim Dine’s sculptures in the gallery and the Butterflies Are Blooming exhibition in the conservatory. Perfect!

She treated me to lunch (many thanks!) of a Caprese Salad reminiscent of those I enjoyed while touring Italy and Six Onion Soup, the latter of which was accompanied by my warning that she probably shouldn’t walk downwind of me for the rest of the afternoon. Let’s just say that I love onion soup, but it doesn’t always love me. ‘nuff said. The food was delish and lunch afforded us an opportunity to catch up. Aunt Cecile and Uncle Norm have just returned from six weeks of vacationing that took them to Florida, through the Panama Canal, to the City of Angels, back to the Sunshine State and home again. Me? Homebound, boring and insanely jealous!

I’ll save my take on Dine for the next post, but allow me to gush on and on about the butterflies. Love, love, love ‘em! The annual exhibit is in its 16th year and again features hundreds of tropical butterflies in various stages of the lifecycle, including adults freely flying among their guests. While we certainly didn’t have the conservatory to ourselves, it was mid-afternoon mid-week and not overly crowded. And it was sun, sun, sunny … which means the butterflies were soaring! We couldn’t have picked a better day.

They are beautiful and fascinating at the same time. Here are some interesting lifecycle facts that were detailed in the Gardens’ brochure:

In her short lifetime of two to four weeks, a female butterfly can lay hundreds of tiny eggs—about the size of the head of a pin. Some species lay eggs in clusters of a dozen or more while others lay them singly. Though hundreds may be laid, typically only one or two will complete the lifecycle to adulthood.

Caterpillars may be best described as “picky eating machines” (kind of like kids, huh?) as over the next two to three weeks they spend most of their time eating specifically from a host plant. Their rapid growth requires them to shed their skin five times. If only my weight loss efforts could be so easy!

Inside the chrysalis a caterpillar changes into an adult butterfly. This typically takes about two weeks to occur. If you carefully examine chrysalides, you can see wings, heads and even eyes of developing butterflies.

After an adult butterfly takes it first flight, it feeds on flower nectar, finds a mate and lays eggs. Monarch butterflies from the Midwest and Canada make an incredible journey in the fall, flying more than 1,900 miles to the mountains in central Mexico where they spend the winter. What a life!

There were butterflies—and people with cameras!—everywhere. Most of the Lepidopteron were difficult to photograph since they just wouldn’t stand still. They weren’t flying, they were flitting! But we were content to grab a bench and watch them with wonder. So darn cool!

Thanks to Aunt Cecile for sharing another great afternoon. Good times! If you haven’t yet seen Butterflies Are Blooming, go! The exhibit runs until April 30.

The Road Less Traveled

2011-04-04T00:00:00.002-04:00

I took the road less traveled by,

And it has made all the difference.

~Robert Frost

The shortest distance between two points is a line segment connecting Point A to Point B. But why does it have to be a straight shot?

After driving back and forth to Ohio on a nearly monthly basis for the past year, the route has become a bit ho-hum. I often get home and realize I’ve driven on auto pilot. You know what I mean. You arrive at your destination, but don’t really recall how you got there. I wanted to shake it up a bit this weekend, and decided to bypass the interstate and instead wander the back roads.

Yes I was traveling through Ohio, Indiana and Michigan in early spring, which translates into flat, brown scenery. And yes the skies were overcast and sporadically spitting. But this diversion forced me to open my eyes to take in everything around me. Those cloudy skies, the spotted cows, the cornfields and quintessential Midwestern small towns. And barns, of course.

It may have taken me all day to get from Point A to Point B, but the time seemed to go twice as fast. And it was a trip I’ll definitely remember.

A Smile in the Storm

2011-04-03T00:00:00.005-04:00

And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain there would be no rainbows.

~G.K. Chesterton

Icy Beauty

2011-03-23T00:00:00.004-04:00

Look! the massy trunks

Are cased in the purecrystal; each light spray,

Nodding and tinklingin the breath of heaven,

Is studded with itstrembling water-drops,

That stream withrainbow radiance as they move.

~William Cullen Bryant, AWinter Piece (I.66)

Spring may have sprung on March 20 according to thecalendar, but somehow I think the weather gods missed the memo on thatone.

It was cold, it was icy and it wasdefinitely still winter.

TypicalMichigan weather, eh?

But this time around I didn’t seem to mind so much. It sparkled, it glittered, it glistened. It was beautiful!

I take back all those nasty things I said about Old ManWinter ... but I definitely still have spring fever!

Honoring Those Who Died

2011-03-13T00:00:00.004-05:00

In 1972 my 13-year-old world was centered on hair and makeup and fashion and boys. (Hmmmmm … not much has changed in nearly 40 years, has it?) I really wasn’t focused on world events and, particularly, what was happening across the pond at the time. Fortunately, our National Park Service not only preserves the scenic areas of our country, but also shares the stories of its people.

Mark and I were road tripping to Cleveland for the weekend. Armed with a list of 20+ antique stores in the area, we’d definitely be busy for two days. But we can get “fantigued” after hours of serious shopping. A diversion was in order since we discovered many of the shops didn’t open until noon on Sunday and, more importantly, exploring is not only about finding great bargains. I hit the National Park Service website to see if the neighborhood had anything to offer and was pleased to discover I could score another stamp in my passport.

David Berger graduated from Shaker Heights (Ohio) High School, Tulane University, and received a law degree and an MBA from Columbia University. He emigrated to Israel in 1970 and was among the first in that country to teach sports, including weightlifting, to the disabled. David also continued to participate in weightlifting competitions and made the 1972 Israeli Olympic team. As a dual citizen raised in the U.S. and representing Israel, he had no expectations of winning any medals; simply walking in the opening ceremonies in Munich made his Olympic dream come true—a dream which unfortunately ended in tragedy.

Shortly before dawn on September 5, 1972, a group of heavily-armed Arab men stormed the dormitory at Olympic Village where the Israeli delegation was sleeping. A coach and an athlete were killed in the attack and another nine taken hostage by the terrorists who declared their intent to murder them unless Israel released Arab prisoners from its jails. When the Israeli government refused to negotiate, the terrorists demanded that arrangements be made to fly them and the hostages to another country. At a nearby airport, the rest of the Israeli athletes, as well as five of their attackers, died in a botched rescue attempt by German authorities.

The national memorial located on the grounds of the Mandel Jewish Community Center honors the memory of David Berger and ten other athletes. Originally installed in Cleveland Heights in 1975, the sculpture was moved to Beachwood in the summer of 2006 when the Mayfield Jewish Community was demolished. It is the only memorial in the United States commemorating the 1972 Olympic terrorism.

The black steel sculpture was constructed by Romanian-born David E. Davis. It depicts the five Olympic rings broken in half, which symbolizes the interruption and cancellation of the Munich games by the tragic events; the 11 segments on which the rings rest represent each athlete whose life was taken. One of the segments is slightly different from the rest to symbolize the unique events in David’s life that led him to the Israel Olympic Team and his death. An upward motion in the broken rings suggests the peaceful intent of the Olympics, a search for understanding, and hope for the future.

I’m glad we had time to visit this site. It commemorates a story worth hearing and a story worth sharing.

The Wright Stuff

2011-02-27T00:00:00.060-05:00

If you foolishly ignore beauty, you'll soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverished. But if you wisely invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life.

~Frank Lloyd Wright

If you could spend 24 hours with any person, whether they are still alive or have passed before us, who would you choose? Several people come to my mind, but there’s one in particular I would love to corral for a day.

I don’t know why I find him so fascinating, but it's probably because he definitely was not the average 2.5 children, dog and station wagon kind of guy. He’s been labeled as radical, eccentric and pretentious. But the man was also a gifted visionary who literally thought outside the box and was not the least bit phased by contradicting the mob. It’s that rebel thing. Unfortunately, he died in April 1959, just months before I made my appearance in this world. I may not have been able to personally lend an ear to his take on life and love and architecture, but the 500+ completed works of Frank Lloyd Wright provide me with insight as to what made him tick.

In my travels over the years I’ve had the pleasure of touring many of his buildings. Taliesin in Spring Green, Wisconsin; the Dana Thomas House in Springfield, Illinois; the Burton Wescott Residence in Springfield, Ohio; his infamous Fallingwater in Bear Run, Pennsylvania; the Gregor S. Affleck and Melvyn Maxwell Smith residences in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan; the Gordon House in Silverton, Oregon; and the Guggenheim Museum in the Big Apple. But I really don’t need to journey any further than my own backyard to experience one of his most well-preserved architectural gems.

I first toured the Meyer May House while conducting research for a community college project in 2000. It’s amazing how quickly an entire decade flies by! Since my niece is fascinated by all things history, I had been telling her about the house for some time. When I asked Faith what she knew of Frank Lloyd Wright, she replied, “He built cool houses.” It was definitely time for me to revisit with a partner in crime in tow.

We arrived at 450 Madison Avenue and first headed to the Visitor Center. Before touring we viewed a short presentation on the history of the May family and the efforts to preserve their amazing residence.

Clothier Meyer May and his wife Sophie contracted with Frank Lloyd Wright to design their home in 1908 for $10,000. It was Wright’s first large commission in Michigan and one of only two residential structures (other than summer homes) from his Prairie style period.

The Mays had two children before Sophie succumbed to influenza in 1917 at the age of 38. Several years later when May remarried, Rae Stern and her two children moved in, and an addition was added to the house to accommodate the newly enlarged family. The Mays divorced in the late 1920s and Meyer May eventually died in 1936. The house remained empty for the next six years before it was purchased and rezoned as multi-family housing. Needless to say, many modifications were made to it over the next 40 years.

After Steelcase acquired the house in 1985, extensive research was done to determine its original design. Bit by bit, Wright’s 1909 vision was revealed. With an unlimited budget—which was exceeded! (the actual figure is top secret, but rumored to be between $4 and $10 million)—the restoration took two years and included demolition of the addition, as well as painstaking attention to hundreds of exterior and interior details. The Meyer May House opened for visitors in 1987.

Our docent, Sue, led us on our tour of what is touted to be the most completely and beautifully restored of all Wright’s Prairie houses. In addition to free admission, one the best parts is that photography—even with a flash—was permitted inside the house.

The two-story, T-shaped construction of pale brick with flat roofs is purposefully different from the architecture typically found in the Heritage Hill. The other homes in the neighborhood are overwhelmingly vertical, but the Meyer May house emphasizes the horizontal line. Its broad overhanging eaves draw the eye outward rather than upward.

Wright purposely sited the house on the property line of the corner lot where it resides to take full advantage of the southern exposure and to create a spacious yard for the perennial gardens. A feature unique to the May house is Wright’s use of copper grillwork which accents the living room windows.

As is typical in Wright’s Prairie design, the May house has a hidden entrance. It enhances privacy by deterring uninvited passers-by. You can’t simply walk up and knock on the front door if you don’t know where it is!

Generous banks of art glass windows and skylights allow sunlight to pour into the living room. They were stunning, but it unfortunately was gloomy and overcast on this February day; photographing them was difficult. Thank goodness for Photoshop!

Interior materials were chosen for their natural beauty and also emphasized the horizontal. Iridescent strips of gold art glass were placed in the grout lines of the central fireplace which anchors the house. Wood was rarely painted, stone was left unpolished, and furniture was built in wherever possible.

Neidecken’s pastel hollyhock mural wraps around a dividing wall between the living room and dining room. Painted over during years of alterations, it was carefully recovered from beneath six layers of paint.

Formal high-backed chairs and a four-postered dining room table with attached light fixtures create a room within a room. To the amusement of her children, Mrs. May put fish bowls under each light!

On the second floor one child’s bedroom opens onto an upper balcony, while another faces the gardens. Wright-designed furniture is supplemented by Arts and Crafts pieces of the same period.

One of the twin beds in the master bedroom is a Wright-designed original; the other is a reproduction. On the north wall is a smaller but similar version of the living room fireplace. An adjoining morning room is used for dressing, reading and relaxing.

The house is just as spectacular as I remembered it being in 2000 and, even better, as it was when the Mays lived there in the early 1900s. After touring, I asked Faith what she had learned about Frank Lloyd Wright. Her reply?

“He built REALLY cool houses! It was like stepping back into time.”

Indeed, the path of the great architect may not have literally crossed with mine, but this house definitely speaks to me. When you’re in the neighborhood, you should also discover what Frank Lloyd Wright had to say.

Meyer May House

450 Madison Avenue, N.E.

Grand Rapids, Michigan

Open to the public year-long

Tuesday and Thursday 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Sunday 1 to 5 p.m.

Free admission!

Love: II

2011-02-15T00:00:00.003-05:00

Flowers are love’s truest language.
~Park Benjamin

Candy is dandy, but these were a much better Valentine's Day surprise. They look lovely, smell wonderul and are noncaloric!

Love

2011-02-14T00:00:00.003-05:00

Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.
~Author Unknown

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Are You My Mother?

2011-02-11T00:00:00.013-05:00

A hundred years from now it will not matter what kind of house I lived in, how much money I had, nor what my clothes were like. But the world may be a little better because I was important in the life of a child.

~Dr. Forest E. Witcraft

I am not a kitten.

I am not a hen.

I am not a dog.

I am not a cow.

I am not a boat or a plane or a SNORT!

I am not a bird and, contrary to the rest of the story, I am not a mother.

I never got in line when they were handing out maternal genes. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head or the patience of Job; my stomach gets really queasy when it comes to bloody knees, poopy diapers and projectile vomiting (I actually once witnessed the latter; it wasn’t pretty); and I possess little to no tolerance for whining and temper tantrums. I admire parents who can handle all this and much, much more 24/7 with a mere shrug. It’s one job I know I couldn’t do with confidence.

But do I love being an aunt! That role allows me to bypass most kid unpleasantness and dive directly into the groovy … like being a mystery reader for Sarah and Olivia’s class.

Since I had no idea of what I should read (for some reason I didn’t think Lady Chatterly’s Lover would be a good choice), I had their Mom do a bit of investigative work and learned one of their favorite books is P.D. Eastman’s Are You My Mother? Turns out most of their classmates were on the same page (pun intended!). Who knew that all it took to get six- and seven-year-olds to sit still on the edge of ~~their seats~~ the carpet was Dr. Seuss? Too much fun!

(Note to self: Work on better posture!)

A big thanks to Sarah, Olivia and Mrs. Underwood and her first grade class for letting me be a part of their school day and lives!

Early Spring?!?!??

2011-02-03T00:00:00.049-05:00

Each of us is a being in himself and a being in society, each of us needs to understand himself and understand others, take care of others and be taken care of himself.

~Haniel Long

Just as he’s been doing every February 2 since 1887, Punxsutawney Phil once again poked his head out to calculate the end of winter. This time, as he has done only 15 times in his 124-year history of predicting, he didn’t see his shadow and signaled that spring is right around the corner. Either Mother Nature didn’t get that memo or was attempting a last hurrah.

Call it Snowmageddon, Snowpocalypse or simply Blizzard 2011. Regardless of moniker, it amounted to a whole lotta snow. I distinctly remember the storm of 1978 to which this one was compared. Back then my sibs and I enjoyed a snow day in the winter wonderland. (Note to Mom: See if you can find those pictures!) This time around, however, I opted to spend my day off in the comfort of a warm, cozy house. Isn’t that why picture windows were invented? As a blogger and wanna-be photographer, I probably should have more purposefully documented the monumental event with a gazillion photos, but decided not to go overboard with the camera for two reasons. First, I don’t think pictures really do it justice. You don’t realize how much 18” of snow amounts to until you open the garage door and are confronted with a wall of knee-deep accumulation. Second, and more importantly, I was kinda enjoying aforementioned warm coziness inside and really wasn’t in the mood to trudge through all that cold fluffiness outside. You know how I feel about winter … even without a whole lotta snow.

By early afternoon, though, it had finally quit tumbling from the sky. My neighbors were out in full force clearing the aftermath. I figured I should probably follow suit and make an effort since my snowplow guy hadn’t shown his face or truck. In the time it took me to snap (count ’em) one picture and clear a mere shovel-wide path down the sidewalk from the porch, I was done. The snow wasn’t particularly heavy, but did I happen to mention there was a whole lotta it? And I was still recovering from the sledding incident. At the rate I was going, it would likely take me until June to reach the street. What’s a girl to do?

I’m a pretty independent woman and usually do things myself. Fortunately, I’m also a pretty smart cookie and know when to cry, “Uncle!” (read: “Help!!!”). This was one of those instances. When my neighbor John pulled up on his ATV accessorized with a plowing blade and offered his assistance, I didn’t think twice. It took him a good half hour, and wasn’t exactly neat and pretty when all was said and done, but at least my driveway was cleared and I was no longer snowbound. He refused my offer of gas money and said with a shrug, “That’s what neighbors are for.” Great guy!

The next morning my street still had not been plowed. You guessed it … I managed to get stuck at the end of my driveway. After a bit of drive-reverse-drive-reverse-drive-reverse-drive action (and a whole lotta swearing), I finally managed to position my car in the two-track leading out of my subdivision. I prayed I wouldn’t lose a muffler or other vital component as I listened to the snow scrape the underbelly of my car all the way to the main thoroughfare. Fortunately, after that it was smooth sailing to the office. (In hindsight, not the best time of year to take on a temporary assignment.)

A quick call to other neighbors that afternoon confirmed our street had finally been plowed around 4 p.m. I wouldn’t be home until late evening and dreaded having to tackle what surely was now another mound of snow at the end of my driveway. Though I didn't really want to, I inquired if Don (a/k/a my lawn boy) would be able to clear it for me. Barb didn’t hesitate for a minute and told me it would only take him a few minutes. Needless to say, I was elated to arrive home that night and cruise right into the garage. More great people!

So what’s the point of this post? That I’m not fond of winter? That there’s a whole lotta snow during a blizzard? That I really need to hire a different snowplow service next year? Nope. What I’ll take away from Blizzard 2011 is that I live in a great neighborhood with wonderful people who don’t hesitate to pitch in, and that every now and then it’s okay to be taken care of. Now the plan is to pay it forward … and realize I don’t have to wait for a crisis situation to do so.

Honesty

2011-01-30T00:00:00.010-05:00

Honesty is like an icicle; if once it melts that is the end of it.

~American proverb

On the Shores of White Lake

2011-01-22T00:00:00.011-05:00

Mark had meetings in Grand Rapids and decided to stay in the neighborhood for the weekend. You know what that means don’t you? A day of fun and exploration! The last time we were out and about was during Thanksgiving weekend. We were overdue and decided to head north along the lakeshore.

Mark hails from Muskegon and is quite familiar with the environs just north of his old stomping grounds. I had only made a brief visit to the Whitehall-Montague area once during our Lake Michigan circle tour back in the fall of 2009. Today it was finally going to get the poking around attention it deserved.

When we left home fat fluffy flakes (try saying that three times really fast!) were just beginning to tumble from the sky. As we got closer to Lake Michigan and headed north on US 31, the roads become more snow covered and visibility had greatly diminished.

It wasn’t until we returned home later that evening that we learned the area had received 10.7 inches of snow that day. Hmmmmmmm … maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Ah well, we were already on our way. What’s a few flurries?

We arrived at the sister communities on the opposite shores of White Lake late morning. Having done a bit a research prior to commencing our trip, we learned there were about half a dozen antique shops in the area. Sure enough, as soon as we hit downtown Whitehall, we saw a sign for “Art and Antiques.” Our first stop was at the Colby Street Shops. The art gallery of the shop was actually in the bathroom! Too fun! Mark scored a couple pieces of enameled dinnerware here.

On the north shore of White Lake is the world’s largest weather vane. Measuring 48 feet high and 14 feet long, and weighing in at a whopping 4,300 pounds, it features the White Lake lumber schooner Ella Ellenwood, which was built in 1869 and wrecked in 1901. The weather vane is dedicated in commemoration of the spirit of the Great Lakes sailors who opened this part of the country to the advancement of civilization.

But rather than stand outside in the frostiness to admire Montague’s claim to fame, we decided to check out more of its quaint shops.

One of our faves turned out to be Wildflower II. It is a spinoff of Wildflower Furniture Refinishers we’d see later that afternoon and was tended by the most charming of characters. Art may have been a bit hard of hearing, but his quick wit was amusing. I just love a man who can banter! Mark found a black McCoy pitcher and antique sifter that had to go home with him, especially after Art offered him a 20% discount. And no calculator for this guy … he did all of his mathematical computations the old fashioned way with pencil and paper. Who said that the long division we learned in school way back when would never come in handy?

Even if we wouldn’t have made any purchases, this place was definitely worth a stop. Art told us to be sure to visit his daughter’s furniture showroom, and we promised to do just that after checking out the other stores and grabbing lunch.

(Wildflower II; 4575 Dowling; Montague; 231.903.8705)

Abiding by our preference to avoid chain restaurants and instead rub elbows with the locals, we went with the suggestion of Pekadill’s. With a menu featuring soup and sandwiches, as well as a toasty fireplace, it was the perfect place to take a break from antiquing and the winter weather.

The Canadian cheese soup was delish … though I had to apologize to Mark in advance. I LOVE cheese soup, but it doesn’t always love me, if ya know what I mean. We’d likely have to crack the windows open on the way home!

(Pekadill’s; 503 S. Mears; Whitehall; 231.894.955)

Our last stop in the area was Wildflower Furniture Refinishers and Antique Shop. This big, warehouse-type facility offers antiques in the front, but it’s real claim to fame is its furniture business out back. While I admittedly didn’t have high hopes for this place, it turned out to be my favorite of the day. That was due in large part to owner Sharon Fisk (Art’s daughter) and her welcoming demeanor. As soon as we entered the building she poked her head out, told us to take our time looking around, and to c’mon on back when we were done.

She was in the middle of restoring a beautiful wooden door (I apologize for the fuzzy photo), but took the time to show us around and tell us about her business. What an amazing place! With 33 years in the furniture repairing and refinishing biz, her workmanship and experience were evident in what she showed us. She gave us a tour of the stripping room (furniture, not lap dancing … get your mind out of the gutter!) and the spraying room while she explained her clientele.

Most of her work caters to those looking to restore family heirlooms. Unfortunately the beautiful game table and chairs I had immediately spotted after stepping into the back room belonged to one such client and wasn’t up for grabs. I hate when that happens.

Sharon told us, though, that she also purchases estates and refurbishes the pieces for resale in her antique store. Interestingly, she lost everything to an electrical fire in 1999, but has obviously successfully rebuilt from the ground up. As a girl whose taste tends to lean toward the contemporary, who knew this kind of beauty could be found in old furniture? And, as luck would have it, while we were chatting back in the antique showroom, I spotted two hanging metallic snowflake sconces that had my name written all over them. With a wink Sharon said she must have forgotten to pack them with her other Christmas merchandise and offered them to me for only $4 each. Sold! After we exchanged contact info and I promised to blog about her shop (Hi Sharon!), we headed for home.

I love exploring little towns and discovering what they offer. Time and time again, though, I realize that the best finds are their people. Whether it’s during full-fledged tourist season in the summer months or smack dab in the middle of blustery January, the Whitehall-Montague area is definitely worth a visit. When you’re there, make sure to stop by and see Sharon. She’s one of their greatest treasures!

(Wildflower Furniture Refinishers; 875 Industrial Park Drive; Whitehall; 231.894.9016)

s(No)w Fun

2011-01-16T00:00:00.009-05:00

It’s on January days like this that I again have to ask myself the question.

“Why in the heck don’t I live in a more temperate climate where the mercury only moves a mere five degrees in either direction?”

And then I remember that the beauty of changing seasons is one of the things I love most about West Michigan.

Thunderstorms that generate colorful arcs through the clouds and huge puddles to dance in, as well as the promise that dreary and gray will soon be transformed with spring’s multihued rebirth.

Frolicking sandy shorelines while waves tickle the toes, indulging in ballpark frankfurters and s’mores, playing tag with fireflies, and gazing with wonder at a gazillion twinkling stars in the summer sky.

Brisk autumn winds swirling a blaze of fallen foliage, munching on juicy Honeycrips, and carving smiling pumpkin faces.

But you already know how I feel about Jack Frost’s iciness and brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I would honestly be happy with just three seasons. Can we vote on this? Okay, okay. Even though I’m not fond of it, winter too is part of my territory. I can either take a cue from the northern members of the family Ursidae who hibernate for months on end or I can get out there and enjoy it. As tempting as that former idea may be, the latter is probably far more practical. But I’m not doing this alone. Deni, the boys and I, as well as friends Tom and Jean and their grandchildren, conspired to an afternoon of sledding.

It’s been a while since I last played in winter’s wonderland and I have long since outgrown a warm fur-trimmed snowsuit.

I did remember, though, what I needed to do to brave the elements; layering was the key. Microfiber tights, wool socks, leggings, and stretch pants on the bottom; a cami, long-sleeved tee, turtleneck, wool sweater and down parka on the top. Add a pair of boots, mittens and earmuffs and I was good to go. Which, as I waddled toward the door bundled up snug as a bug in a rug, is exactly what I realized I needed to do! Definitely reminiscent of my childhood days … and again probably TMI. I guess some things never change, huh?

Soccer bowl by summer and ultimate sledding hill when the snow flies, Charlie’s Dump (as it’s known by the locals), was where my posse would convene. I found them positioned near the Porta-John. Coincidence? The hill appeared to be the happenin’ place as it teemed with people and sleds of all shapes and sizes. Everyone was having a great time.

Grab a kid; let’s go!

I shoved off for my first ride with Kaden and all the way down screamed like, well, a girl. Whoa! I don’t remember the hills being THAT fast or the sleds so hard to control. When was my trusty wooden Flexible Flyer on metal runners that you could actually steer replaced with these faster-than-lightening plastic things that take you nowhere near where you intend to go? Add one light-as-a-feather four-year-old to the front of such a sled (that would be Kaden) with all the weight in the rear (that would literally AND figuratively be me!), and you’ll eventually find yourself zooming down the slope backward … and taking out an unsuspecting fellow sledder on your way. Since I don’t have eyes in the back of my head (I’m not a mom, remember?), I didn’t even know what I had hit until I saw him somersault over me. Welcome back to the fine sport of sledding! Since the rules have obviously changed, I wonder … do I get points for all the bodies I bowl over? Fortunately, both he and I emerged unscathed. Unfortunately, I would not be so lucky on Take 2.

I figured I’d better do the next run alone, folded myself into a saucer and was off. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee! It picked up a lot more speed and even went airborne when I hit a bump. I felt like Aladdin soaring through billows on his magic carpet. Actually, it would have been nice to have a genie grant me three wishes. My first would have been for a safe landing.

As gravity would have it, I did indeed make contact with the ground again … and took the full force of the impact in my lower back. In a word: !@#$%^&*! (Read: Ouch! This is a PG-rated blog; I can’t post what I really said!) My remaining two wishes? (1) please don’t let me pass out; and (2) please don’t let me throw up. I lay there for what must surely have been an hour before Deni, Zhak and Kaden gracefully slid in next to me and she wondered if I was okay. I could barely grunt, “No. I hurt my back.” Sister Nurse to the rescue.

She told me to lie on her sled and she’d pull me. Though I was able to assume the same position that Kaden had mastered for his return trips up the hill,

it’s much easier to tow one light-as-a-feather four-year-old than it is a ~~slightly~~ majorly lumpy middle-aged woman in pain. Tom even came down to help, but they only managed to get me half way up the hill. I TOLD you I’ve put on extra weight these past few months! By the time I crawled my way to the top I thought for sure I was going to die. A hot shower, heating pad and handfuls of anti-inflammatories were in order. After only two fateful rides, I called the sledding thing quits.

You never realize how much your back comes into play until you strain it and feel every twist and turn in those muscles. Like when you have to get into a car and drive home. Or like when you try to bend over to blow dry your hair or brush your teeth. How about rolling over or even just getting out of bed? Fuh’get about it. And going to the bathroom? I’ll spare you from all those details, but let’s just say it was much easier to accomplish when encased in aforementioned layers of clothing.

I’ll be hobbling around in my tennies for the next week or four (no stilettos for this girl), but I think I’m going to live. I’m also seriously considering removing No. 15 (learn to downhill ski) from my Bucket List. In the meantime, I trust you’ll understand if Old Woman Lynn opts to endure the remainder of Old Man Winter inside instead of outside.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Google “places to live that never get snow and, hence, have no sledding hills.”

It's a Lovely Day in the Neighborhood!

2011-01-08T00:00:00.005-05:00

True to the form of my crazy schedule these days, I worked (way too) hard this week. It would have been REALLY easy to stay home and do absolutely nothing. But that notion would have been in direct conflict with my desire to get back into the photography and blogging swing of things. Besides, the temps may have only been pushing the mid 20s, but it was sun, sun, sunny and absolutely GOR-geous. I decided bum-like would have to wait, grabbed my camera and headed out the door.

If you’ll recall, my subdivision is smack dab in the middle of cow country. Cows live on farms, and where there are farms there are barns. Old barns. In my book, they rank right up there with lighthouses. Never saw one that didn’t speak to me. But there’s something about their fading crimson wood adorned with freshly fallen snow against an amazing azure sky that makes them even more alluring.

So I turned right at the “Pavement Ends” sign to see what I could discover.

I bounced down the gravel back roads and pulled over whenever I spotted a camera-worthy subject.

These country byways did not disappoint.

There were old barns around every bend.

I just hope no one wants to know exactly where these rural beauties are. After roaming around for an hour or so, I’m not sure I could ever find them again.

Nonetheless, it was a lovely day in my neighborhood!

She’s Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

2011-01-01T00:00:00.002-05:00

Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.

~Hal Borland

So, um, yeah. My blog. As I recently relayed to a friend in holiday e-correspondence, I had good intentions. Honest I did. But in the words and infinite wisdom of John Lennon, “life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans.” I almost made it through the end of August and actually have about another 1-1.5 months of photos and adventures to post. But things got crazy. Really crazy. And busy. Really busy. With everything that was going on, it became difficult to write in “real time” (as it happened) and I somehow slipped into a routine of work, eat, sleep, repeat. And, if truth be told, until I recently backed up my laptop (another one of those important things I’d been meaning to get to), I hadn't realized that I really haven’t taken any photos since the end of October. Bad blogger!

Know what? I miss it. I love writing and I love taking pictures and I love sharing my perspective of the world with whoever wants to stop by for a gander. All work and no play have indeed made me a very, very, very dull girl. I’ve had to remind myself once again about what’s really important. Like taking the time to live and laugh and love … and pee (that last part was probably TMI, wasn’t it?). That being said, and while I won’t promise it will be every single day, I’m back at it. I’m picking up my camera, dusting off the keyboard and giving it another whirl.

And, even though I fear that the spirit of the moment has been lost, I saw some really remarkable things with some really remarkable people in those last several months of the past decade. While I’m forging ahead instead of trying to play catch up, I do intend to ~~take~~ make the time to write about those experiences as well. I’ll post links back to the entries in case you’re curious (read: really bored).

Life? Even at the risk of sounding way too cliché, it goes on and is indeed only what we make it. I still may not be ready for what it throws in my path, but the upside is that I’ll definitely have something to photograph and blog about!

I’m ~~hoping~~ thinking 2011 is going to be my best yet …

Happy New Year!

Keep A-Pluggin' Away

2010-08-22T00:00:00.011-04:00

The Wright Brothers are not the only iconic sons of Ohio’s Miami Valley. I remember seeing his face on a postage stamp in 1975, but never really knew all the details of his interesting and inspirational life. I only recently discovered his home is part of the Dayton Aviation Heritage National Historic Park, which meant I could learn more about the famous poet AND score another stamp in my National Parks Passport. Sign me up for the tour!

Paul Laurence Dunbar was born in 1872 in Dayton to former slaves. His parents instilled in him a love of learning, and he began reading and writing poetry as early as age 6. He was nicknamed “Deacon” for the solemn manner in which he recited.

Paul was the only African-American at Dayton’s Central High School, which he attended with classmate Orville Wright. Though he often had difficulty finding employment because of his race, he actively participated in school as a member of the debating society, editor of the school newspaper, and president of the school’s literary society. He also published a newspaper for the African-American community, the Dayton Tattler, which the Wrights printed for him. After graduation, however, Paul faced the realities of racism.

Paul worked as an elevator operator in the Callahan Building and wrote on the job between calls. His break came when he was asked to address the Western Association of Writers when the organization met in Dayton. A poet in the audience was impressed by Paul and penned a newspaper article about him. It was read by James Whitcomb Riley, the “Hoosier Poet.” Both he and Paul wrote in Standard English and dialect. With encouragement from Riley, Paul’s first book of poems, Oak and Ivy, was published in 1892. He continued to work as an elevator operator to help pay his debt to the publisher and until he could establish himself nationally as a writer. He sold his book for a dollar to elevator passengers. As more people came in contact with his work, his reputation spread.

His second book, Majors and Minors (1895) garnered him the support of literary critic William Dean Howells. Howells ultimately wrote the introduction for Lyrics of Lowly Life, a publication which combined Paul’s first two books. Paul’s essays and poems were soon widely published in the leading journals of the day.

After Paul returned from a literary tour in London, he married writer Alice Moore in 1898 and took a job at the Library of Congress. In 1900, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis and moved to Colorado with his wife on the advice of his doctor. Paul and Alice separated in 1902 but never divorced. He returned to Dayton to be with his mother and, in 1903, purchased a home for her. They resided there together until he succumbed to his illness in 1906; Matilda maintained the residence until she passed in 1934. The house at 219 North Summit Street (now Paul Laurence Dunbar Street) would become the first public memorial to honor an African American.

In 1936 the Ohio Legislature dedicated the house to commemorate Paul Laurence Dunbar and delegated its care to the Ohio Historical Society. Two years later, it was opened to the public. In 1962 it was declared a national historic landmark and became part of the Dayton Aviation Heritage National Historic Park in 1992. A major renovation in 2003 restored the house to the way it appeared when Paul lived there with his mother.

The Italianate turn-of-the-century structure exhibits Paul’s literary treasures, personal items and family furnishings. Among items on display are his bicycle built by the Wright brothers, the desk and chair where the poet composed much of his work, his collection of Native American art, and a ceremonial sword presented to him by President Theodore Roosevelt.

Paul authored four collected volumes of short stories, five novels, three published plays, lyrics for 13 songs, 14 books of poetry, 400 published poems, and uncounted essays on social and racial topics over a 13-year period. Although he only lived to be 33 years old, he became the first African-American writer to gain national recognition and international acclaim.

As a wannabe writer, I was moved by the story of Paul Laurence Dunbar and inspired by his works. The following especially spoke to me. Literary history. Good stuff!

KEEP A-PLUGGIN’ AWAY

I’ve a humble little motto

That is homely, though it’s true,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

It’s a thing when I’ve an object

That I always try to do,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

When you’ve rising storms to quell,

When opposing waters swell,

It will never fail to tell,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

If the hills are high before

And the paths are hard to climb,

Keep a-pluggin away.

And remember that successes

Come to him who bides his time,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

From the greatest to the least,

None are from the rule released.

Be thou toiler, poet, priest,

Keep a-pluggin away.

Delve away beneath the surface,

There is treasure farther down,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

Let the rain come down in torrents,

Let the threat’ning heavens frown,

Keep a-pluggin away.

When the clouds have rolled away,

There will come a brighter day

All your labor to repay,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

There’ll be lots of sneers to swallow,

There’ll be lots of pain to bear,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

If you’ve got your eye on heaven,

Some bright day you’ll wake up there,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

Perseverance still is king;

Time its sure reward will bring;

Work and wait unwearying,—

Keep a-pluggin away.

Look! It's a Bird! No ... it's an airplane!!!!

2010-08-21T00:00:00.026-04:00

When I said we were getting up at the crack of dawn to road trip I wasn’t kidding. Dayton was our destination of choice and a 2.5-hour drive from the Toledo area. Add to that an hour of morning primping and the desire to arrive at the Aviation Heritage National Historic Park when it opened at 8:30 a.m. I’m calculator dependent; you do the math. Let’s just say I was neither bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed when we hit the road at o’dark thirty. True to form (and without harboring even an iota of guilt in shirking my navigator responsibilities with trusty Bernice Garmin leading the way), I snoozed for most of the drive down. When we arrived I was ready to soar through the birthplace of aviation.

The Dayton Aviation Heritage National Historic Park was established to commemorate the lives and legacies of three exceptional Daytonians: Wilbur Wright, Orville Wright and Paul Laurence Dunbar. The park consists of four sites: The Wright Cycle Company Complex, Huffman Prairie Flying Field, the John W. Berry, Sr. Wright Brothers Aviation Center and the Dunbar House. I’ll save the latter for the next post and stick to the brothers Wright and their flying machine.

Wilbur and Orville were the third and sixth children, respectively, of Milton and Susan Koener Wright. The family often moved due to their father’s ministry in the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, but they eventually settled in at 7 Hawthorne Street in Dayton where they stayed for 30 years. The Wright brothers’ interest in aviation was first piqued in 1878 when Milton gave them a toy helicopter after one of his trips out west.

From childhood the Wright brothers tinkered, built and displayed an entrepreneurial spirit. In 1889 they formed a business partnership and opened a printing shop. They moved their business to the second floor corner suite of offices in the Hoover Block of West Dayton when it opened in 1890 and continued to operate there until 1895. This historic building is now the location of the main visitor center for the park.

In 1892 they responded to the bicycle craze sweeping the nation and also opened a repair and sales shop. Business boomed and soon overtook their print shop to become their primary livelihood. They began manufacturing and selling bicycles of their own design, the Van Cleve and St. Claire, named after their ancestors. This became the first step on their path to the invention of the airplane. The building at 22 South William Street was the fourth bicycle shop operated by the Wrights and is the only building remaining as testament to their bicycle business. It was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1990.

The news of German experimenter Otto Lillenthal’s death in a gliding accident in 1896 rekindled the Wrights’ interest in solving the problem of flight. Recognizing parallels between controlling a bicycle and an aircraft, they ultimately adapted bicycle technology to aeronautical design. Wilbur wrote to the Smithsonian Institute to discover what was already known on the subject of human flight. As soon as they received a reply, their work began. Their airplane was born in the back of their cycle shop.

On December 17, 1903, at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Wilbur and Orville became the first in the world to make a controlled flight in a powered, heavier-than-air machine. This, however, was only the beginning. They would have to begin the long, laborious process of building a machine that could make lengthy, routine flights and safely land. This second phase in the invention of the airplane may not have been as well known as their first flight, but it was just as important. The Wright brothers decided to continue their flight experiments closer to home. Local banker Torrence Huffman offered them a cow pasture eight miles northeast of Dayton.

The first attempts in 1904 were less than impressive, but Wilbur and Orville worked on perfecting their airplane. To take off by engine power alone in Dayton’s light winds, the Wright brothers had to lay out as much as 240 feet of wooden rails. If the breeze shifted, the track had to be moved and pegged down again to face the new wind direction. But after they built a catapult, they could launch their flyer with only 60 feet of rail. A team of horses pulled a 1600-pound counterweight to the top of a wooden derrick. When the weight fell 16 feet, it added enough speed to get their flying machine airborne, regardless of wind direction and strength. They flew their first circle in September 1904 and had been airborne for five minutes by December.

The brothers were big on secrecy in the competitive race for aviation claim to fame. They even went so far as to paint their airplane components silver to lend the impression that the aircraft was constructed of metal instead of wood. They had originally built a hangar at the far end of the field in 1904 to keep their progress under wraps, but dissembled it at the end of the season. The following year they constructed a new hangar to store essential tools and house the invention that would change the world.

When spring arrived in 1905, the Wright brothers were at the flying field every day. Their hard work finally paid off in mid October when Wilbur amazed a small crowd with a 40-minute, 24-mile flight. He only landed because he ran out of gas. Although not the first to build and fly experimental aircraft, they had mastered the principals of controlled, powered flight and had perfected their machine into the world’s first practical airplane. They were ready to stop test flying, secure a patent and start marketing their invention.

Wilbur and Orville launched the Wright Company in Dayton in 1909 where they began making airplanes and training pilots a year later. Sadly, in 1912 Wilbur contracted typhoid fever while on a trip to Boston in early May and ultimately passed at the end of the month. He was 45 years old. Orville made his last flight as a pilot in 1918. In 1920 he was appointed to the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, a federal agency devoted to research and development for the nation’s aircraft industry. He remained on the NACA’s board for 28 years.

The Wright Memorial in Dayton, Ohio, a stone obelisk of pink granite from North Carolina, was erected by Daytonians in 1940 to honor the Wright brothers’ achievements. Orville attended the dedication of the monument on his 69th birthday, which overlooks the Huffman Prairie Flying Field.

The John W. Berry, Sr. Wright Brothers Aviation Center at Carillon Historical Park houses the original 1905 Wright Flyer III; it is the first airplane designated as a National Historic Landmark. In 1948 Orville assisted with the planning of Wright Hall. He wanted to show the plane below ground level so visitors could see it from above to understand how the controls operated.

Shortly thereafter, flags throughout the U.S. flew at half-staff after the nation learned he had succumbed to a heart attack. He was 75 years old.

Wilbur and Orville Wright never graduated from high school. Neither married. They were not wealthy nor were their experiments funded. They withdrew from the world and devoted themselves to their work. People thought they had taken leave of their senses. Yet, as inventors, builders and flyers, they further developed the airplane, taught man to fly and opened the era of aviation. Not bad for two brothers from Dayton, huh?

Taste of Maumee

2010-08-20T00:00:00.003-04:00

You know I try to avoid chain restaurants like the plague, but I’m game if it’s done with a bit of a twist. The City of Maumee definitely knows how to shake things up a bit.

Maumee is located directly across the river from Perrysburg. Mark admittedly had forgotten all about its Summer Fair until we were en route back to his place and noticed signs. Kicking off the weekend was the Taste of Maumee. Nearly two dozen local restaurants (some of which were chain) were not only competing for the best decorated booth, but also tempted us with food and drink. We took a vote. Our growling stomachs won.

Things were in full swing by the time we parked the car and followed our noses. There were many mouth-watering delicacies to choose from, but we ultimately settled on ribs from Smokey Bones. You also know how I feel about ribs. In a word: Yum!

And we had arrived just in time for the lot party. Classic rock band After Midnight was on stage that evening. Since we were getting up at the crack of dawn for road trippin’ the next morning, we didn’t need to indulge in the beer fest. We saved ourselves the $5 cover fee and instead sat in the family area near the stage. It was the perfect place to people watch and jam to our favorite hits from the 70s before calling it a night.

Totally unplanned, great fun. I love when that happens!

Luna Pier

2010-08-19T00:00:00.004-04:00

I was once again off to Ohio for the weekend, but the first thing on our agenda was ironically back in Michigan.

In his travels for work Mark had stumbled upon an antique store in LaSalle, but only had time then for a quick look-see. When I arrived in Perrysburg, we turned around and traveled north to the American Heritage Antique Mall. After poking around for an hour or so, we both were successful in walking away with unique treasures. For just a few bucks I scored two tall, uniquely-shaped bottles to use as vases. Turns out they were made in Italy and used to house Galliano. Can you say Harvey Wallbanger? Oh the stories I could tell … if only I could remember them! But I have once again seriously digressed, haven’t I?

On our way back to Ohio, we detoured to Luna Pier. Located just this side of the state line along the coast of Lake Erie, it was one of the places Mark has briefly considered for his new home. Back in the day Lakewood, as Luna Pier was known in 1926, was considered the best spot for dancing under the stars. The lakefront community could be reached by regular street car service from downtown Toledo. It thrived during the Roaring 20s and remained a mecca for dancers through much of the Depression.

Though it initially functioned as a resort, the sleepy little town is now home to many year-round residences. Its most prominent feature is a large crescent-shaped pier which juts into Lake Erie. As much as we would have liked to check it out, the waves were dancing there today; we would have been drenched. But the sun bounced off the boogieing waters and we were treated to a series of mini rainbows. A bit difficult to capture in photograph, but lovely nonetheless.

We instead strolled down the walkway which parallels the beach. Beautiful scenery and small town atmosphere.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh … doesn't matter if it’s on the west side or the east side of the state. I just love Michigan’s coastline!

Sing Your Own Song

2010-08-18T00:00:00.000-04:00

Use what talents you possess ... the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.

~Author unknown

A Grand Reflection

2010-08-17T00:00:00.002-04:00

Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world.

~ Hans Margolius

Ambitious

2010-08-16T00:00:00.001-04:00

The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

~ William Shakespeare

The Grand Spanner

2010-08-15T00:00:00.002-04:00

The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn.

~David Russell

A piece of Grand Rapids history:

The Massillon Bridge Company of Ohio built the $31,000, four-span Sixth Street Bridge for Grand Rapids in 1886. The rust-resistant wrought iron used in its Pratt trusses accounts for its durability. In 1975 the bridge was slated for demolition, but concerned citizens convinced authorities to save it. This structure is the longest, oldest remaining metal bridge in Michigan, and was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1976.

Portal to Another World

2010-08-14T00:00:00.002-04:00

There are things known and there are things unknown and in between are the Doors.

~ Jim Morrison

I see a red door and I want it painted black

2010-08-13T00:00:00.027-04:00

When I saw this door and the rest of the interesting architectural detail of a south side church I frequently pass, I knew I had to photograph it in some, way, shape or form. Though it wasn't my intent to paint it black, I had post-processing software at my fingertips and wanted to try something different. That’s part of what this blog is about, after all.

Shadows and highlights still baffle me when it comes to photography, and I don’t particularly care for the way the sun washed out the ends of the alcoves. Next time I’ll have to get up at the crack of dawn to rectify the light situation.

Yeah, you’re right. Like that’s gonna happen ...

Ah well, what’s a little trial and error in the spirit of experimentation? The saving grace is that I am totally in love with the sepia tone. You know, I do believe Mick Jager did say it best …

You can’t always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just mind find

You get what you need

(read: Photoshop is a beautiful thing!)

A New Leaf

2010-08-12T00:00:00.000-04:00

You will turn over many a futile new leaf till you learn we must all write on scratched-out pages.

~ Mignon McLaughlin

On the Fence?

2010-08-11T00:00:00.002-04:00

Throw your heart over the fence and the rest will follow.

~ Norman Vincent Peale

Things are Looking Up!

2010-08-10T00:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes life has a way of putting us on our backs to force us to look up.

~ Charles L. Allen

Waiting for Love

2010-08-09T00:00:00.000-04:00

It is at the edge of a petal that love waits.

~ William Carlos Williams

Color My World

2010-08-08T00:00:00.002-04:00

Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the eight-color boxes, but what you’re really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I’ve got a few missing. It’s okay though, because I’ve got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the eight-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean, there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation. So when I meet someone who’s an eight-color type I’m like, “Hey girl, magenta!” and she’s like, “Oh, you mean purple!” and she goes off on her purple thing, and I’m like, “No, I want magenta!”

~John Mayer

Indulgence

2010-08-07T00:00:00.004-04:00

Since, as a single girl, it’s just me in this wacky world of unpredictability, I’ve learned not to squander my hard earned pennies and to keep an eye on my checkbook balance. Even though I’ve found ways to cut corners and save a few bucks, every now and then this girly girl must splurge to do what she has to do. Yes, it may require eating macaroni and cheese for a week, but in my humble opinion the expense is well worth it.

Pedicures are my self-indulgence. I love the pampering: flipping through fashion magazines while succumbing to the vibrating chair, a foot massage and a fresh coat of OPI Red.

And wouldn’t you agree that it’s a much lovelier shade than the purple hue I’m yet again sporting on my little toe after going mano y mano with a wall this week? Ouch! Did I happen to mention I also dropped a file cabinet drawer on the same foot last night? Just call me Grace. Fortunately, while the floor may have chipped, my polish did not!

Not to worry. I’m healing and slowly but surely returning to the ranks of the stiletto clad. Hobbling around in flip flops does nothing for a girly girl’s image, after all.

Old Barns and Old People

2010-08-06T00:00:00.002-04:00

Old Barns and Old People

Author Unknown

A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking.

He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway.

I told him right off he was crazy.

He was a city type; you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands and the way he talked.

He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale.

I told him he had a funny idea of beauty.

Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there’s been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind.

The summer sun’s beat down on that old barn ‘til all the paint’s gone and the wood has turned silver gray.

Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired.

Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn.

The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he’s building down the road.

He said you couldn’t get paint that beautiful.

Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We’re a lot like that, you and I.

Only it’s on the inside that the beauty grows with us.

Sure we turn silver gray too .... and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap ...

But the Good Lord knows what He’s doing.

And as the years pass He’s busy using the hard weather of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce ...

And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man’s house.

And I reckon someday you and I’ll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.

And I suspect we’ll be more beautiful then for the seasons we’ve been through here ... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father’s house.

May there be peace within you today. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

And I do sincerely thank God for my wonderful friends and family who care about me even though I show signs of weathering!

On the Right Track

2010-08-05T00:00:00.000-04:00

Neither a wise nor a brave man lies down on the tracks of history to wait for the train of the future to run over him.

~Dwight D. Eisenhower

Life

2010-08-04T00:00:00.001-04:00

Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

~Hans Christian Anderson

Out of the Hand/Foot/Mouth of Babes

2010-08-03T00:00:00.009-04:00

It had finally arrived. It was the day we were going to visit the Toledo Zoo, the destination which had spawned the idea for kid weekend in Toledo. Zhak and Kaden (and Faith, too!) just love zoos and were excited to see what is touted as one of the country’s finest. Unfortunately, it was touch and go as to whether we’d even make it there.

Zhak had been telling us for the past few days that his mouth hurt. When he woke up this A.M. with hands covered in a rash, Deni knew something was awry. A detour to the local med center was definitely in order, but her insurance company first needed approval from her pediatrician back home. While awaiting a return call from the doc, we telephoned our other sister Karen. Over the past decade plus she’s been through every childhood disease you can imagine and is a walking medical encyclopedia of kid ailments of all kinds. In less time than it took us to even say hand, foot and mouth disease, she had suspected Zhak’s problem was the common viral illness of infants and children. Sure enough, when Deni finally spoke with Zhak’s doctor, he confirmed Karen’s diagnosis. Since no specific treatment is really available, a trip to the med center would not be necessary. While the affliction is contagious, it is most often contracted by young children. Once they are exposed to it, they likely will not become infected again. Since we all had been in close contact for the past several days, if anything was going to result from this it had already been put in motion. Good hygiene was stepped up a notch, and sharing food and/or utensils kyboshed. Other than that, he assured us we were good to go. So go we did!

The Toledo Zoo began in 1900 with a single woodchuck donated to Walbridge Park. After organization of the Toledo Zoo Society between 1905 and 1910, it grew from there. Many of the original buildings were built by the Works Progress Administration and are still in use today.

Because the zoo is on the reciprocal list of our John Ball Park Zoo at home, Deni’s family membership afforded them, Faith and one guest free admission. Mark and I split the cost of the other adult ticket and we were on our way.

Africa was our first stop

mainly because it featured a Safari Railway and Kaden is obsessed (to put to mildly) with all things train. Had we not ridden at the onset, we would have likely heard, “I want to ride the train!” every ten minutes.

So we hopped aboard to check out zebras, giraffes and wildebeest.

We then followed the pedestrian walkway over SR 25 to the main exhibits.

It was not only Sunday, but Fisher-Price Play Weekend as well. The place was crowded and, well, a zoo! It was also hot, hot, hot. Many of the animals had sought refuge in the shade and were hard to locate. But we saw rhinos

And elephants

And camels, oh my!

Under his circumstances, Zhak was not in the best of spirits. Oy vey! While he took a time-out with Deni, the rest of us ventured on. At least Kaden was happy!

We saw hippopotami at the Hippoquarium, an underwater viewing exhibit which was the first of its kind in the world.

In the Reptile House we saw a neat Panther Chameleon

a sinister-looking alligator

and “Look Mommy! That turtle is climbing on top of the other turtle!”

Um, yeah. Apologies to all you voyeurs … no photo of that one.

My favorite place was the aquarium.

Housing 253 different species with 2,800 actual animals in the exhibit, it was one of the most diverse collections of zoo-aquarium in the United States. And it was air conditioned!

Before heading home we stopped to see Siku, the only polar bear cub in a U.S. zoo, who was under careful watch of his mom. Polar bears are so cool!

In all honesty, I wasn’t really impressed. I admittedly have little to no patience when you combine mobs of people, oppressive heat and six-year-old meltdowns. The kids had a great time, though, which was our main objective. Mission accomplished!

Rapido Grandes

2010-08-02T00:00:00.007-04:00

I hail from the thriving metropolis of Grand Rapids, Michigan and knew there was a Grand Rapids, Minnesota as well. Until I started making frequent jaunts to the Buckeye State, however, I had no idea there was also a Grand Rapids, Ohio.

Then I got to wonderin’ … how many other locales shared the name? So I jumped online (what did we used to do before the internet?), conducted a few searches, and discovered there are actually six cities/towns/villages in North America called Grand Rapids. In addition to Ohio, Michigan and Minnesota, they are also found in Wisconsin, North Dakota and Manitoba. Of course, all derive their name from the waterways on which they are located … though the rapids of the northern-most port of steamboat travel on the Mighty Mississippi were eradicated when a local paper mill damned the river.

How cool would it be to make a Grand Rapids pilgrimage through all six locales, starting in Ohio and ending on the northwestern shore of Lake Winnipeg? Because I was already searching the worldwide web (and, simply, because I could!), I took my curiosity a step further. Such a roadtrip would take 32 hours and 49 minutes and cover an incredible 1,861.79 miles. I’ve filed that idea away for someday when I’ve got nothing else to do … and don’t have children in tow who inquire of me every ten minutes, “Are we there yet?!?!?” This time around I was content to explore the Ohioan village nestled along the southern bank of the Maumee River.

Located just southwest of Toledo and adjacent to Providence Metropark, the restored canal town of Grand Rapids, Ohio had been a major river crossing for centuries. Before there were bridges, ferries resembling flat barges carried horse-drawn wagons and passengers across the Maumee. Amusingly, village lore relays this mode of transportation was unreliable since the ferryman weren’t always on duty thanks to their love of strong drink. Cheers!

The village was platted in 1833 as Gilead, but overshadowed by rival Providence during the canal era. In 1868 the name Grand Rapids was adopted and the town prospered with the arrival of the railroad in 1877. As I mentioned in my previous post, this actually led to the demise of the canal system.

Noteworthy sites in town include the Howard Cemetery, where members of the Howard family are buried. They were the first white settlers of this area in 1820. Also interred here is Tee-Na-Beek, believed to be the last Ottawa Indian left in the Maumee Valley. After his land was lost to the White Man, his widow had no place to bury him, and his friend Dresden Howard allowed his body to be placed among Howard relatives; Tee-Na-Beek’s grave is located outside the iron fence.

Unfortunately, spring floods have been and continue to be a threat to the village. A marker in the downtown area tracks flood records. Check out the water level in 1904 … keeping in mind that Mark stands at 6’3”!

In addition, as is the case with most turn-of-the-century villages, fires ravished Grand Rapids in the late 1890s. Major renovation of the shopping district began in 1975, and it again underwent an overhaul in 2002. The downtown area and its surrounding residences today are amazing restorations of the Victorian architecture of days gone by with fancy brickwork, elaborate moldings and transom windows. Many of them have been placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Of special interest was a gorgeous Italianate residence located at 24055 Front Street. Built in 1883 by Richard Housely, the first president of the Grand Rapids Banking Company, he constructed the home for his second wife, a southern belle from Savannah. It served as a private residence until the 1950s when it was converted into apartments.

In 1987 the property was purchased by Don and Audry Entenman and lavishly refurbished. After they decided to simplify, the home was sold to current owners Don and Teresa Marie Williams, who converted it to a quaint B&B. As I was roaming the grounds and taking pictures, I ran into Teresa Marie.

As much as I would have loved to sit on her porch and chat all day, remember I was keeping company with young’uns. We went on to lunch at LaRoe’s restaurant and tavern and headed to City Park.

Once home to commercial establishments such as general and hardware stores, the buildings were eventually destroyed and the land presented to the town for a park. It was the perfect place to entertain kids … and kids at heart!

The Town Hall adjacent to City Park was built in 1898 to house government offices, a jail and an opera house. In fact, the Grand Rapids structure became known as one of the finest facilities on the theatrical circuit.

Though we didn’t have time to properly tour all the amazing residences or peruse the quaint shops, we enjoyed our afternoon in Grand Rapids. A return trip the next time I’m in the area—sans tired children, of course—is definitely in order!

The Canal Experience

2010-08-01T00:00:00.002-04:00

Providence Metropark is located in what was once the canal town of Providence, Ohio. Since the park now has one of the greatest concentrations of canal era features in the country, I thought it would be a fun place to check out during kid weekend in Toledo. Have a little fun, learn a little history.

Back in 1876, life along the Miami and Erie Canal moved at the pace of plodding mules. Today aboard The Volunteer it is no different. The 60-foot boat is a reproduction of a barge-style vessel commonly known as a “government” or “state packet” boat. Unfortunately, they sit rather low and it was nearly impossible to see out the windows … let alone take pictures. Nonetheless, during our hour-long journey on a restored stretch of the waterway, we learned what canal life was like as a two-mule team pulled the boat from the towpath.

In the 19th century, canal boats carrying freight and passengers traveled the 249 miles between Toledo and Cincinnati via the Miami and Ohio Canal. Built between 1825 and 1845, the waterway linked Lake Erie and the Ohio River. The Providence Dam was constructed in 1833 to maintain water levels in the canal from Providence to Toledo and still does so today. Most of the labor on the canal was provided by German, Irish and French immigrants who were paid 31 cents a day and a jigger of whiskey. Many of them settled in the small towns that sprang up next to the canal they helped build.

The peak year for the canal operations was 1851, with revenues in excess of $350,000 and approximately 400 boats in operation. Passenger fees were 2 to 3 cents per mile, with the hauling of freight netting 2 cents per mile per ton and decreasing to 1.5 cents on trips over 100 miles. The boats traveled at a whopping 4 to 5 miles per hour. In the 1860s when the railroads came through, the commercial value of the canals was greatly reduced.

Providence Metropark is the only place in Ohio where visitors are able to completely travel through a functioning limestone lock. The highlight of our trip was definitely passing through Lock 44 as the crew handled the ropes, and opened and closed the massive gates to adjust water levels.

This Metropark is also home to the Isaac Ludwig Mill, a working water-powered saw and gristmill. It houses a collection of equipment from the late 19th to early 20th centuries. Listed on the National Registry of Historic Places, it is the last of more than 100 mills that once dotted the Ohio landscape. Stone-ground products and other unique gifts can be purchased in the General Store.

It was a neat experience, but admittedly a bit underwhelming. Faith is fascinated by all things historical, but only a four-year-old could be so brutally honest:

“Kaden, did you like the boat ride?”

“No. It was boring.”

Ah well. I tried!