Yesterday, as I walked across the bridge at Croton Dam, I stopped and smiled at a fisherman. “My Dad caught a lot of fish here,” I said casually, not sure the fisherman would understand or want to engage. He responded with a huge smile. “I have been fishing here for...
The Michigan State Trooper rolled down his window and gave me a questioning look with a tentative thumbs up. I was on the side of the road with my hazards on, looking at a map. I channeled my grandma Leta who once gave her doctor a check, requesting he deliver it to...
I got up really early Friday so I could complete the five-and-a-half-hour drive to Bitely, Michigan, and get a good campsite. Only nine at Highbank Lake and I planned the weekend’s hike around this campground. I have learned that my plan doesn’t matter to anyone else;...
There were acres of lilies in vast shallow bodies of water. I had never seen anything like it. The lilies weren’t just around the perimeter of the marsh but everywhere. Huge white flowers appeared to float on the water’s surface while the leaves covered it like green...
I have maps of the North Country Trail between the Michigan/Ohio state line and the Mackinac Bridge. The pages are highlighted, dated, sweat-stained, dirty, and torn from endlessly moving in and out of my pocket. They are taped together and dotted with post-it notes...
Saturday was like a Monet painting, peaceful and serene. The forest contained very little fall color except for the Maple trees, which were red like cherries. The light in this picture whispers Monet; the lily pads scream it. If today was a Monet, yesterday was a...
