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

When asked where I was headed for my first vacation in ten years people were always shocked that I said Michigan. “Why not Mexico? Or the Caribbean?” Great destinations to be sure. But I think what people don’t understand is that Michigan (outside of Detroit) is truly God’s country. Driving from the airport in Manistee, more a strip than anything, I was struck by the intensity of color blasting through the windows. Inspired to play, stretch and bend photographic rules. Behold.

Farm…this ain’t Kansas

Push, Pull, Pan

Forest Weave

While scrummaging for spare parts I came upon this scene. I love how the yellow of the buses play against the solid red of the cars behind them. That, and how small they look. How often is a school bus dwarfed? Pretty cool.