LOVE

I don't know what street this is on, but it pretty well represents my time in NYC on the weekend with Lesley, Bootsie (Ginnie) and Donica. The point being that most of the time I had no idea where I was, but I was happily loving the ones I was with, and being loved by them! Thanks for snapping this one, Donica! (I feel sorry for that woman whose head I'm sitting on. And Bootsie must have been spying another photo op. :)

Lesley at Rockefeller Center

Happy Birthday to my darling daughter! You're surrounded by love! Woe is me, I didn't want to leave you today.

Showing us her office building

Carry on, my sisters, and look well after our little NY girl the rest of the week.

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magic space

Two weekends ago Don and I drove up to northwest Michigan. For a while Sunday, we walked and drove around some old stomping grounds of mine.

For several years, my family spent two weeks a summer at this cottage at Crystal Lake, built by my great great uncle (my mom's great uncle). I was six years old the last summer we went there in 1963, the year my parents got their own cottage much closer to our home town.

I remember walking barefoot across the road to the Crystal Lake beach, and the heat of the blacktop scalding my feet. The sand cool on the other side. I think these are the same stones as the ones we left in 1963. I fell asleep one summer and got the burn of my life. I wonder if that was the source of my melanoma almost 30 years later?

Every day I would walk with some of my siblings a mile away from Crystal Lake to Lake Michigan.

~ ~ ~

We'd walk past the Gwen Frostic house, "Melody in F."

Climb up the little dune and cross over to the big lake beach.The smell of the fine, soft sand is identical today, and it brings all the memories back.

I don't understand how it happened, but this space, this sand, these stones, this house, these smells, this sun in these birch trees, got into my very flesh, mind and heart as a little one, and it's still here.

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Risch farm auction

Our farm community was deeply hurt when Harold Risch, 76, was trampled and killed by one of his bulls last fall. On Saturday at least 1,000 farmers gathered for the auction of his farm equipment and cattle.

That's Don in the burgundy jacket with grey hoody.

It was a frigid spring day, the snow and wind cut through the crowd like a cold blade. But the warmth of the people shone through for Harold and his well loved farm tools and animals.

Don wanted this hay wagon, but we left the auction to warm up our cold faces, toes and fingers, and when he went back later, it had been sold.

I don’t think he could have afforded it. Other hay wagons went for over $500. You have to build bottom and sides to carry the load. Our load would have been people on farm day for a hay ride. Hay rides are something I grew up with in my rural hometown. Load the wagon with hay, then load the hay with young people, and you have a riot of fun . . . and lots and lots of hay stuck down the necks of shirts!

When you want to bid at auction, of course, whether it’s Sotheby’s or Risch’s farm, you have to first register and get a number.

I wonder if this farmer was getting a phone bid?

What’s this?

Most of the farmers wore Carhartt coveralls, lined with quilted flannel. But the man in the second photo below wore a snowmobile suit. Whatever we wore, it had to be WARM.

Harold had a beautiful herd of British white cattle. Each cow went for $1,000-1,500. Our emotions were mixed looking silently at these sweet, powerful animals, which sometimes cause terrible accidents.

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Creativity in Frankfurt

Don and I went up north for the weekend and Sunday wandered from Manistee to Charlevoix. Thanks to my sister Nancy, we stayed in her condo on Portage Lake in Onekama and didn't have far to drive to see the quaint small towns in northwest Michigan.

In Frankfurt, near where my family spent two weeks in the summer when I was little, we found two centers of creativity. These shoe totem sculptures were growing up next to a sidewalk going into town.

The other was a place called Monumental Finds where someone builds these little play houses from found remnants.

I can see us building one of these out behind our barn, by the little woods around the pond. It would be fun for Farm Day, and just for sitting out there on a Sunday morning with coffee, or on a Saturday evening with friends.

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Jackson's Michigan Theater

I drove 35 minutes yesterday to snap pictures in Jackson. Would you believe I've never been to Jackson that I can recall?

I just walked Michigan Avenue a few blocks. It was cold.

As I was walking by the Michigan Theater on Mechanic St., a nice man stepped out and invited me to come in and take pictures inside. They were setting up for the play "Issues" last evening. I didn't get good photos of the setup because of poor lighting. But I sure enjoyed seeing this 75-year-old theater that's being refurbished.

As this web site says, "The Michigan Theatre, the last and largest theatre built in downtown Jackson, opened April 30, 1930. It was built for the mainstream popular entertainment of the day -- vaudeville and movies. For just pennies, the public was treated like royalty as it passed under a glittering marquee into a Hollywood fantasyland. The building's exotic Spanish style, lavish interior plasterwork, ornate polychrome terra cotta facade, carved walnut furniture, plush wool carpeting, heavy damask draperies, stained glass light fixtures, and oil paintings entertained the patrons as much as the attractions on the stage and screens. It was the first air conditioned building in downtown Jackson and offered a place to escape the summer heat."

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Happy St. Patrick's Day

During the week, I do most of the cooking and menu planning. On weekends, Don usually cooks me breakfast. Today, he cooked this gorgeous Irish breakfast:

- bacon cooked crisp

- poached eggs on crumpets

- broiled tomatoes

Don and I are both sad, because we don't think he'll be able to go to Ireland with me for work this summer.

But today at least, we'll celebrate the Irish by eating well.

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Tom Bissell's fourth book!

I found out today at a college retreat that my former classmate in poetry class at MSU was written up in the New York Times book section for his new book THE FATHER OF ALL THINGS:
A Marine, His Son, and the Legacy of Vietnam.

"At the beginning of this fine book, Tom Bissell asks the obvious question: 'More than 30,000 books on Vietnam are currently in print. Why another?'” You can read the whole review here.

Photo from the New York Times.

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