Evening silhouette against the lake (this may be a gentleman of the lake!)
Friends, I am leaving again–heading downstate to visit my mom and dad and brothers and families–but still want to show you some sunset photos from an evening in Big Bay along Lake Superior last Friday night during the aforementioned book tour.
Beating wings of geese over Lake Superior
There are more pictures of the Big Bay Lighthouse but I’m not sure if there shall be time to upload them before departing and driving 550 miles south to my dear family.
The book tour babes: Monica, me, Terri and Suzi
Hello, dear reader, you with your stories, with hands that create breakfast, lunch and dinner along with many mysteries.
I am finally returning from the Giving Motherhood a Voice tour through our fair Upper Peninsula. The waves of Lake Michigan and Lake Superior pulsed in the background as we read stories from An Anthology of Babes: 36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice, edited by Suzi Banks Baum. We traveled to Escanaba, Marquette and Ishpeming. Yesterday, we settled in a cabin nestled in pines and spruce near the foggy lake in Big Bay and created collages and painted rocks and wrote soulful words whispered to us by stones and seagulls and lighthouses at Suzi’s Slow Time Salon.
We’ve celebrated women’s voices this past week. We’ve touted women’s stories. We’ve honored our mothers, our grandmothers, our children, our partners. Especially we’ve sung the songs of our hearts, the creations of our hands, the way our spirits need tending in the same way our children’s clothes need mending.
Perhaps some of you remember that I am headed out on the “Giving Motherhood a Voice” Upper Peninsula book tour later this week.
Three of us will be reading our contributions from An Anthology of Babes: 36 Women Give Motherhood a Voice, edited by Suzi Banks Baum. Singer/songwriter Terri Bocklund will perform. We’ll talk about motherhood and creativity with time for audience participation.
This morning Stan Wright from Northern Michigan University Public Radio interviewed me.
I was so nervous! My heart pounded and fingers tingled. I haven’t been interviewed on the radio in many years and felt sure it would be a fountain of stuttering, nervousness and dire mistakes.
Beautiful barred owl
I promised Karma some photos from last Friday night when we drove to the Baraga State Park to meet some raptors from the Upper Michigan Raptor Rehabilitation and Wildlife Center.
Barry was covering this story for his job at our local newspaper, the L’Anse Sentinel, before attending the Baraga County Fair. We drove separately, met for dinner at the Hilltop Restaurant, then learned about a wonderful facility which assists injured wild creatures.
We discovered what happens when a raptor needs the doctor here in the Upper Peninsula.
Oh, you, nature child, running free upon the earth, peering at frogs and snakes and puppy dog tails and wildflowers…I speak to you.
Oh, you, grown-up person, all facts & figures, all planning & obligations, all trying to figure out how to live…remember the earth where you once sank in delight in thick oozing mud, where you once scrambled up and down hillock, where you once forgot everything except the joy of the changing moment.
Little girls in Pow Wow dresses
Sometimes I mourn that I’m not living so many other lives.
Didn’t you want to be…a sailor on board a ship, sailing the world round, salty and carefree under tropical seas, watching whales dance, whispering to porpoises telling them secrets you’ve never shared with another living soul?
Didn’t you want to be…a nomad like the heroine in Eat, Pray, Love? Eating your way around the world, your fingers drenched in secret sauces of Spain or Portugal or China or Timbuktu as you fall to your knees in Istanbul, India, infinite freedom? Loving your very heart into brown faces, red faces, yellow faces, pink faces, black faces, every face on the planet, appreciating every being just for being?
Didn’t you want to be…a dancer? Like the painted elfin creatures from Degas paintings that I glimpsed in our deep dark basement at age nine? Didn’t you want to work so diligently, shaping thigh and calf into a dancer’s ensemble, a woman wearing pastel blue and twirling endlessly?
I just signed an email “Monday morning eyes”.
One of the best parts of life involve signing emails with creative names, don’t you think? Of course, one can only play this game with creative souls, best buddies and offspring. Everyone else might stare askance at their inbox and mutter craziness beneath their upright breath.
What be Monday morning eyes?
Sleepy eyes. Eyes not aiming toward work. Lazy eyes longing for weekend fun. Eyes not towing the line. Dreaming eyes. Eyes without focus…