Tag Archives: outdoors

Hiking by the Hungarian Falls with friends

Lake just above the dam at Hungarian Falls

Lake just above the dam at Hungarian Falls

Last Saturday evening we traveled with friends to the Hungarian Falls, just north of Hancock, near Dollar Bay.

We aimed to hike by the falls before eating dinner in Calumet at Carmelitas, a Mexican restaurant, where you buy chips and  delicious pico de gallo for a buck.  If you want, you can buy a Thimbleberry Margarita, not that we did.

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A tale before supper of sunrise, caterpillars & ghosts

Sunrise over Huron Bay

Sunrise over Huron Bay

Ohmygoodness!   I’m feeling a creative high lately.  After at least two months of ho-hum suddenly I’m wanting to blog every day!  (Don’t worry, it probably won’t continue to happen, although you never know, she said with an evil grin.)

You wouldn’t believe what a lovely day it is in the Northwoods.

A perfect, end-of-summer, beginning-of-autumn day.  Oh, the world feels like tepid bathwater.  Oh, the world feels like it exists just to make you happy.  Oh, you can sit on the deck and read books whilst sipping tea again.  Oh, may this never end.

I shall tell you a quick tale before you eat supper.

A tale of sunrise and longing and thoughts and caterpillars and ghosts.

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These lazy hazy crazy days of summer…

When visitors come...

When visitors come…

In mid-summer the Main Street in our little town buzzes with cars and visitors. People from other locales sometimes drive hundreds of miles north to splash in Lake Superior, to camp in the Baraga State Park, to tour the Copper Country. Our quiet little world turns into a beehive of activity.

I swear there’s never a dull moment in July and August.

Might you be bored?  You can pick strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, thimbleberries.  You can kayak, fish, swim, canoe, float or sun-bathe.  You can plant a garden, or how about drive to the county fair this upcoming weekend?  I suppose you’ve already attended the Native American Pow Wow, the 4th of July parades, the Aura Jamboree, and, of course, the Fireman’s Tournament last weekend.

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How chickadees sleep at night in winter and other forest tales

What it's like to live in the woods

What it’s like to live in the woods

Sometimes I think I should write more posts about what it’s like to live in the woods.

How many people in this world still live in a forest surrounded by trees and more trees and a few more trees?

In a space carved out between poplars and maples and ravines with tiny streams flowing down to the bay about a quarter-mile away?

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This wild & precious moment

The Slate River Falls

The Slate River Falls

The kids have departed.  They now play with their kitty cats on opposite ends of the country.

Your blogger is still remembering the last week.  Her son departed for San Diego early last week; her daughter still remained until yesterday.

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Secret of the fuzzies, friends and Finn Fest–and bears.

The woods at 9 p.m. in mid -June

The woods at 9 p.m. in mid -June

It looks like it’s snowing here in Upper Michigan as the summer Solstice approaches.  In between the green leaves a cascade of white fuzzies fill the sky.  The fuzzies pile up on decks, front porches, in between newly planted tomato plants.  It’s the Time of the White Fuzzies.  It happens every year, no matter what.

Of course, this year the white fuzzies came late, due to our Long Winter and delayed spring.  They’re about three weeks late.  From what trees do they come?  We don’t know.  Downstate, where my parents live, the white fuzzies come from cottonwood trees.  The fuzzies fill up their garage.  But ours come from…well, we don’t know.  We don’t have cottonwoods. Perhaps poplar or maple buds?  It’s one of those mysteries that someone, someday, will share with us.  Then we’ll know the secret of the fuzzies.

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It takes a lifetime to grow deep roots

Exposed roots

Exposed roots, yellow sky

It takes a lifetime, perhaps, to really know a piece of land.  We men and women, tramping here, and peering there at robin nests and butterfly landings, are merely infants in nature’s scheme, even though we like to imagine we’re the Head Honchos of the planet, the great beast of prey.

We moved here to the southern shore of Lake Superior back in the late 1970′s.  We came as innocents, thinking we knew something, as young folks in their 20′s often do.  We arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to cut firewood and create a home where we might someday raise children of the earth, wild things, really, with dirt between their toes and imaginations bigger than this deep cold unpredictable lake.

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It’s a dangerous world outside our front door…

Buzz

Buzz

We’re living in dangerous times, my friends.

It’s getting quite scary to open the front door.

We have eight–I repeat, eight–ruby-throated hummingbirds buzzing and squawking and hollering and dive-bombing anything that walks, flies or carries a camera.

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Escape

Spring buds on the maple trees

Spring buds on the maple trees

This week’s photo challenge at WordPress is:  Escape.

Just wanted to let you know.  We’ve finally busted out of winter here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula after almost seven months.

We’ve successfully escaped.

We can only hope someone hid the keys of that winter jailor…

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Melt

Rushing stream with tiny waterfalls

Rushing stream with tiny waterfalls

The Long Winter seems to be exiting just in time for May.  We can only hope.  Last weekend the temperatures soared to about 70 degrees (21 C) and our snow began to melt, melt, melt.

Three

Three

We humans scurried outside, sun and warmth-deprived creatures, and we luxuriated.

I found an old cushion and sat with my back against maples and poplars and spruce, trying to feel the sap rising up my back.

Sat and delighted in Spring.

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