I found these cutouts last week while walking around downtown. All they needed were two faces to fill the holes. So, with the help of a couple of my favorite cards: my niece Amanda and her friend, Kim, I'm sending you a little holiday greeting. I hope you take some time to have fun wandering about exploring the season, too.
And so it begins...the first snowfall of winter. Luckily it didn't stick to the sidewalks; by late morning it had melted off of the cars. I guess this means I should dig out the snow shovels before we get a real snow storm. The snow's pretty now, but it won't be long before it's whining time again.
I watched a little neighborhood drama unfold while I ate my breakfast yesterday. One of the chipmunks who live under my deck, poked his head out his front door, perhaps to see if it was a good time for him to gather his breakfast. A red squirrel also noticed him and decided to investigate. The chipmunk must have said something rude, because the squirrel didn't stick around too long. After the squirrel left, the chipmunk came out again, sniffed the rock by his front door, and with an indignant, "harrumph" went back to collecting his breakfast.
For the last week I've been working on a photo project involving prime numbers, specifically the numbers 17 and 19. I've been borrowing sports jerseys from neighbors, making a nuisance of myself in the aisles of Home Depot and taking my camera with me to bowling. Basically, I'm participating in a weird numerical scavenger hunt. It took an even stranger turn when I located a stash of hockey bobble heads. Luckily for me there was a #17--Brett Hull and a #19--Steve Yzerman. The craziness began while trying to decide where to photograph them. It seemed to me the only place to photograph hockey players was on the ice. Since the only ice I could find was in the freezer, you'll understand why Brett is eyeing a giant stack of ice cube trays and Stevie is next to a tower of frozen bacon.
I went hiking this weekend, in the hopes of finding a bit of local fall color, although it was pretty late in the season. It seems like all of the leaves in my neighborhood have fallen, except for the ones on the trees in my yard. I think they are waiting until after the city has finished their final leaf pick-up for the year and the snow plows are out on the roads. There's nothing like shoveling freshly fallen snow and leaves at the same time.
I was having trouble deciding what to write about today, so decided to take care of a few chores first. While moving the vehicles out of the driveway, I found my inspiration---the car I was driving filled up with smoke and flames started shooting out from under the hood! I called 911, then spent the next hour photographing today's story.
I've always loved history. Even as a kid I knew history wasn't about memorizing dates and dusty old facts---it was about stories! Grand Portage National Monument near the Minnesota-Canadian border is a great place to hear the stories of our past. Not only will you hear them, you'll get a chance to taste, smell, touch, grow and wear them.
I traveled up and down Highway 61 exploring Minnesota's Lake Superior shore. Along the highway was a series of state parks: Gooseberry Falls, Split Rock, Tettegouche, Temperance River and Judge C. R. Magney, all in a row, dangling like gems on the shiny chain of Superior's shore. Each was unique, but all shared a common theme of wild beauty; presenting and protecting forests full of life, steep and rugged cliffs with their frigid rivers, canyons, bridges and waterfalls and the ever present power and majesty of the lake.
After stopping in Grand Marais, MN to buy gas and groceries, I decided to explore the town. I wandered around the marina, then checked out the little shops and stores. If you're ever in town you might want to visit The World's Best Donuts shop before you go across the street to the Beaver House where they sell tackle and bait, including live leeches.
I continued clockwise, along the Superior shoreline, and entered Wisconsin where I stopped for lunch at a convenient roadside park in Ashland, overlooking the town's tidy little marina. The view of the marina, water, hills and sky beyond seemed to be all primary colors; like a child's drawing on white paper. While she had used her red and green crayons here and there, it was obvious her favorite color, blue, must have been worn down to a nub.
The last time I camped at the Presque Isle campground, in the Porcupine Mountains was in early November. The leaves on the trees were a toasty golden brown, falling as the temperatures fell and the nights grew long. I was the only one in the campground and I hiked the trails admiring the quiet, wild beauty.
I had passed the Canyon Falls rest stop many times driving to and from the Keweenaw, but for some reason had never stopped. This time I did, walking down the trail to the river and canyon with its dark slick rocks and cold, rushing waters. I sat on a welcoming ledge, feet dangling in the river, eyes closed, listening to the canyon and feeling the cool spray against my face. The canyon was peaceful and calming, but it wasn't until my walk back that I felt the real spirit of the place. 
It took me two years to find the Crisp Point Light and what I found there was more than I expected. If you want to visit Crisp Point you have to realize it's not on the way to anywhere. To find it you have to travel on poorly marked tiny, curvy, seasonal and at times two-track roads that may or may not end up in the backyard of a remote hunter's cabin, or on a dead end road blocked by a fallen tree. So why did I want to find Crisp Point? Because once the Detroit Free Press described the lighthouse as "the loneliness place in America" and that's reason enough for me.
I left the Les Cheneaux Islands and drove to Rudyard to visit my Aunt Doris, stopping along the way to buy some fresh Michigan peaches and blueberries. We visited for a while, watching the hummingbirds fly outside her front window, then drove up to Sault Ste Marie for lunch. Aunt Doris treated me to lunch at the casino, then we both treated ourselves to a little gambling. I won fifty dollars playing video poker, so the next time we go out to lunch it'll be my turn to pay.
After a week or so of creeping north along Lake Huron's shoreline, I finally crossed the Mackinac Bridge and entered the Upper Peninsula. I turned east towards the Les Cheneaux Islands and my campsite for the night at De Tour State Forest Campground. I rarely turn right at the bridge, usually heading north to visit family, but I soon learned that this side trip was well worth it and hopefully, I'll be returning to this area again and again. The campground was quiet and peaceful, just the way I like, and will go on my "stay here again list". What impressed me the most though, was the shoreline along Highway 134. The line between the sky and Lake Huron seemed to disappear, giving the islands the appearance of floating in the sky. Then, with little warning, a thunderstorm built in the west, giving the sky a marvelous deep blue glow.
I left my marshy wonderland and headed to town. I was thinking about what I should have for lunch when I pulled up to a red light. And, tah-dah, there on my left was a Subway restaurant. I parked at the first available spot, ordered my favorite BLT sandwich and, as I was walking back to Van, I noticed where I had parked. I was next to one of the most amazing and unusual city parks I had ever seen! It was Ottawa Park, developed to focus on Public Art. Today the park was full of dogs of all colors and shapes. Going To The Dogs is a community art installation by the Cheboygan Area Schools. At the far end of the park was also, a giant, mosaic tile fish from a previous installation.
Look for me in the marsh...that's where you'll find me at Michigan's Cheboygan State Park. I wandered out into the marsh the other evening around sunset just to stretch my legs. Because the sky was overcast and gray, I didn't bring my camera...silly me. Tiny frogs were everywhere, hopping out of my way as I walked deeper into the marsh. Just as I reached a tiny spit of sand jutting out into Lake Huron, at the far edge of the marsh, the sun burst out from behind the clouds. The golden rays of the sun caused the marsh grasses to glow with a warm amber hue and the sky behind to turn a deep royal blue. I was thinking that I'd never seen a more beautiful sight when suddenly, a magnificent rainbow filled the sky. Every color was bright and distinct and it was a full 180 degrees, touching the ground at both ends. Of course, by then I was kicking myself for not having my camera with me. Resigned, I decided since I couldn't take pictures I would just enjoy the moment. As if as a reward for my decision, a second larger rainbow immediately surrounded the first rainbow. Never have I seen a more amazing sight! 
When my kids were young, we used to camp most every summer at Hoeft State Park, near Rogers City, Michigan. I decided it would be fun to spend a night there to remember "old times". I wandered up and down the beach examining rocks and watching freighters traveling out on Lake Huron. On the way back to camp, I picked enough sand cherries to cook into a syrup which I poured on my oatmeal the next morning. After breakfast, I met a new "little buddy"---in the shower. It was a tiny little Western Chorus Frog. At least I think it was. As a frog surveyor I'm trained to identify frogs by their calls. And this one wasn't saying anything. I wrapped myself up in my towel then, gently picked him up and set him outside under a bush, where hopefully he stayed hidden and away from trouble.
I rose early, before the sun, so I'd be there to welcome it. Seagulls and other water birds were on the beach and perching on rocks in the water, also facing the pink glowing sky, as if they had the same thought in mind. The sun arrived slowly, the eastern sky becoming more and more saturated with color, changing from pink to rose to orange. A tiny sliver of gold shone above the horizon as the waiting birds preened their feathers and grew restless in anticipation. Suddenly, the tiny sliver of gold changed to a glowing ball of light. The birds greeted the sun and one another with their calls, then we all headed out into the newborn day.
