Kevin Baird, proud owner of a boxer named Cassius, recently enjoyed a “doggie-portrait” session with me. Our goal was to capture some action shots of this bousterous boy in action and to, as Kevin stated, “get some of those proud Boxer poses.” We were successful.

On the return path

Proud to be a Boxer

Recently I met my aunt (who for much of my life remained a secret) for the first time a couple months ago. Her name is Donna and I love her. To look into her eyes is to see a long past, one that lives in a cloud of secrecy and imagination. She is a link to my biological father, the most tangible one to date. Genealogy is a trip.

Aunt Donna of the Clan Read.

The DNR (Department of Natural Resources) of Michigan set aside 49 acres of protected wilderness in the form of Hartwick Pines State Park. This is the largest selection of Old-Growth White Pine left in the lower peninsula. After nearly 10 million acres of pine was decimated in the 1800′s, the Salling, Hanson Logging Company stopped it’s operations in 1893. Most of the forest has been converted to 2nd growth hardwoods, but fortunately some of the giants still remain.

The rest are simply ghosts whispering in the wind…

2nd growth forest with “fetal stage” growth

The ghost of the White Pine!

Kiya investigates some whiteflowers

Hiding in her house.

The Chapel in the Woods.

Remnants of a White Pine, aged at around 300 yrs.

New habitat

Mom at ease.

Mowgli

Local Resident

Exit

Like some mythical journey, my return to the family farm after 17 years felt to me a hero’s welcome. Much has changed through the caring and focused hands of my grandparents. Additions to the old farm house. New berms and gardens. Updated architecture and structure.

Much has stayed exactly the same. Long walks in fresh cut grass. Rows and rows of corn. Raspberries so fresh and ripe one has only to place your hand under them, and with a gentle nudge they fall into your palm juicy and sweet.

Hay baler on hungry patrol

My heart gladdened by the site of warm sun on the faces of my sweet girls. The land seems happy to receive us. So different from city streets. In the concrete jungle, a world made of man’s intention to dominate and control, one feels connected with self only. Here, awareness expands to envelop the whole of the land. One can feel the lakes on either side, the rich fertility of the soil and the trees with their mighty crowns. And in return the land seems to reach to us and caress with soft yet powerful graces.

Early evening at the farm

Neighbors to the South

Stephy on a walk, twinkle in her eye.

Magic Wand

Seed Plugger

Grandma making jokes at dinner.

In the shade

Ten years since I’ve taken a real vacation. School, work, family, daily trials and the like have kept me from that precious week (or two if we are lucky) struggled for throughout the year. By conventional calculations this would suggest I have at least ten weeks coming to me, and perhaps I do. They must be laying around loose-leaf in a corporate filing cabinet somewhere waiting to be discovered during a move to another office. Who knows.

I digress. These first days of a short vacation have been filled to the brim with activities geared to relax. Some have been truly relaxing. Others have required higher energy and focus, more like normal everyday pacing. Regardless, none have even remotely resembled the monotonous, gluttonous march of the daily grind, and for this I am thankful.

The day we arrived in Michigan we had All-you-can-eat cod for $7 in a small town called Alden. This happens to be the town in which my grandparent’s love began; a fitting place for vacation to begin.

“All-you-can-eat Cod for $7!?! That’s Amazing!”

Superman and Kika get in a pre-dinner wrestling match.

Alden was a bustle with 4th-0f-July vacationers, or “fudgies” as the locals call them. Patriotic spirit was abound in this sweet little town. Truly one of those places that makes you wish you lived there, calling back to some forgotten cellular memory of pre-industrial America. Pre-information age anyway.

Flowerbed Flag

Quiet Corner for Sale

Local Weather

During dinner Kiya and Grandma Terri took a walk and came across “Alligator Alley,” a wondrous place for big imagination. In reality it is a small part of the Mill House grounds. Some time was spent here while tummies settled, riding horses and jumping on croc’s heads. Soon we were off to bed, the mad rush to leave the mad rush behind and left us exhausted. But first a short visit to a place where it ALL began.

Stephy at the “Mill House”

Grandma standing fearlessly in front of “Alligator Alley.”

Superman and Kiya discussing the finer points of husbandry.

Stephy directing symphonic discourse (or spotting a little bird).

“Jane” in her jungle garb mastering the gaping jaws of terrible alligators!

Where it began, the Alden tennis courts at a summer dance. Fifty-seven years of marriage and they still kiss.

Day one and much has already happened. I would post more now, but time is short, I’ve been here too-long looking at photos and the golden light of early evening beckons to me. More images will be posted soon. For know though, my path leads outside. Enjoy.