Discover the Secret Garden

There is the book, The Secret Garden, and then there is a favorite shop of mine called The Secret Garden. When you find the shop, you must take a look at the beauty at the front door and then once you get inside, slip to the back door before you take in the delightful things to buy.

Flowers at front door

The back door takes the visitor to a small space that is indeed a secret garden.  There is beauty and texture in the flowers, brick wall, shutters and garden art.  A small water feature adds to the overall ambience of this truly remarkable space.

Back door of the shop

 

Hydrangeas in full bloom.

Hanging plant

                                                                              White hydrangeas

                                                                        Small waterfall and lily pond

The shop itself is filled with an eclectic mix of vintage items, jewelry, hand crafted pieces, candles, soap, ephemera, books, art and other gift items.  I never fail to leave without buying a treasure.

So where is this special place?  I wouldn't leave anyone without a map.  On the main street in the Lake Michigan beach town of Pentwater, Michigan, one can find this favorite destination of mine.  Look for the hanging sign and enjoy a bit of beauty inside and out of this unique shop. 

                                                          Click on pictures to enlarge.

Fun And Frolic At The County Fair

 

Things have changed little at county fairs since Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote Farmer Boy.  Almanzo and his family of course went to the fair with a horse and buggy but similar to what would happen today, Almanzo took a milk fed pumpkin while his sisters, Eliza Jane and Alice, took preserves and wool work all to be shown and judged.

While his mother and sisters worked in the church kitchen on the fair grounds to get dinner ready for fair goers, Almanzo and his father looked at the animals.  They also watched a man in "a tail coat and tall shining hat who put a pea under a shell and then paid money to any man who would tell him where the pea was."  A man from the crowd who was sure he knew which shell covered the pea, put $5 down but the better was wrong and the guy running the game put the money in his pocket.  When Almanzo questioned how the man did it with the pea, his father said, "I don't know, Almanzo, but he knows.  It's his game.  Never bet your money on another man's game."

Every county fair to this day has a shell game although in new and brighter colors.  Yet there are still the animals, the exhibits that are judged, the rides, the food, the games and the grand stand.  Horse races are still part of the fair as they were in Almanzo's time.  Almanzo's father said it was O.K. to bet on the horse races. 

The fair can be a wonderful place for children. It was with that in mind that we took our three grandchildren, who live just down the road, to the fair one hot afternoon.

The first stop was the animal barn.  Kids were standing outside with their cows and horses waiting to show their animals before the judges.  But the stalls were also full of animals that weren't being shown.  These animals had been brushed and combed and were at their best.  There were ribbons hanging from stalls and colorful signs to indicate the name of the animal and who it belonged to as well as the name of the 4-H group. 

Carter stopped to pet some baby pigs.  He told me he would like a pig to show at the fair.  However there is a big difference between baby pigs and the huge sows.  Nothing cuddly about those animals.  The rabbits were a favorite with the kids and I liked the sheep and goats, especially the babies.




Grandkids and grandpa look through the slats at a horse.

 

Next we went to the tractor display and Grandpa looked them over carefully.  He is looking for a new model, but doesn't want to spend the money, so for now

the fun is in the looking.

 

 

 

The children were anxious to get to the rides. I bought them wristbands so they could go on any ride as many times as they wanted.  Jay met some of his 6th grade friends and he rode some rides with them.  Carter and Avery rode the tilt-a-whirl together and didn't get sick.  All three went on the bumper cars, but it wasn't exciting enough for them. 

They washed the hot afternoon down with pop and fresh squeezed lemonade.  After riding for over an hour they got sno cones.  We topped the afternoon off with taffy and cotton candy.  Nothing can beat the taffy they make at the Oceana County Fair. 

While Grandpa took Jay, Avery and Carter to another corner of the fair for different rides, I slipped into the exhibit building to see who had won blue ribbons and for what.  My Grandma Vaneps often displayed her woven rugs and crochet work at the fair and I never appreciated those hand crafted items enough when she was alive. 

I looked at the vegetables, quilts, canned goods, flowers and displays set up by various organizations.  It was colorful and everything had just been judged.  The huge Best of Show ribbons were dramatic.  The 4-H building was full of items made by kids.  That took me back to my 4-H days when each summer I displayed the article of clothing I had sewn for the year.  My daughter displayed an embroidered piece she did when she was in 4-H at about the age of ten.



 

 

 

 

 

The fair is a wonderful place for kids in the county to show off what it often takes them a year to accomplish.  There was a bustle and excitement around the animal barns and kids everywhere.  Our three grandchildren left the fair with sticky hands, sweaty bodies and a glow from an afternoon of just pure fun.  I left with memories of what the fair had been like for me as a kid growing up in Oceana County.   My father told me that once as a boy, he could see the lights from the fair, but he had no way to get there.  No matter what the era, that shouldn't happen to any child.  The fair is for kids and the adults who haven't forgotten what it means to be one. 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

Click on pictures to enlarge.

 



After the midnight hour

The clock blinked from 3:59 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. and I had been awake since before 3:00 or so I thought.  There is something so depressing about not being able to sleep in the middle of the night.  Thoughts seem more intensified in the dark hours.

When I had to go to work everyday, the longer I was awake in the night, the more anxious I felt.  I would start to figure out what time I would definitely have to fall asleep in order to get at least six hours of shut eye.

Not being at home and not sleeping is even worse.  I have sleeping pills for emergencies, but if I haven't taken one before midnight, then it is too late.  I have been known to sit on the floor in a hotel bathroom reading in the wee hours of the morning because I cannot sleep and there is no other room to go to.

Once at home I actually went for a walk in the dark.  I was particularly troubled over something and yelled into the night.  I wouldn't recommend that to someone who lives in town, but the country allows a certain amount of insane behavior. 

One thing that helps me is a journal I keep on my nightstand.  If I can't sleep I often go to another room as to not wake my husband and write down what I am thinking.  It can be something good that happened, a problem I am pondering over or just pure angst.  The first page has the title The Midnight Hour.

Bits and pieces of certain entries read like this - Dec. 5, 2012 - Maybe it is the lack of snow or the chilly air or no sense of self.  Whatever it is, I am feeling sad.  The thought came to me today that I could live 30 more years and it made me shudder.  I need a plan for the last passage of my life.  What do I want to accomplish yet?

March ?, 2013 - It is 2:59 and it is another sleepless night.  Winter hit again and it has affected my mood.  I am starting to feel hemmed in by messes I have here and there throughout the house. 

March 30, 2013 - I have to say I have been extremely contented this last month.  I've worked about 6 hours in my antique booth and I love how it looks.  I am eager for the season to start.  I am looking forward to getting out a few summer clothes and heading south.  It has been awhile since we've taken our own car on a road trip.

April 18, 2013 - I want us to build a little get away place by the pond.  I want to use if for writing and sales.....I don't know what advice to give my children.  Maybe just listening is all I should do.  I think a mother's role is never finished - it just ends one day.

May 13, 2013 - In the middle of the night I always think negative thoughts.

If I have been awake too long I do have a last resort although I should be embarrassed to admit it.  There really is only one thing that will get me back to sleep and I only use it as a desperate measure.     I gently wake up my husband and whine,  " I can't sleep."  Through his grogginess he starts massaging my back.  It relaxes me immediately and almost always puts me to sleep.

I was at my daughter's without my husband recently and when the clock blinked 4:20 a.m. I knew there was no help.  Luckily I had a good book that could make me sleepy and if that didn't work I could look forward to coffee by 7:00 a.m.  I opened my book and began to plan my afternoon nap.

Taking the beach road

When we decided to take the road closest to the Lake Michigan beach going south one recent Sunday, our destination was Saugatuck.  We left our house at 8:30 a.m. and 5 1/2 hours later we were about half way there, in Grand Haven.  No, we didn't have a flat tire and we didn't run into a traffic jam.  It just took my husband Hack and me that long to meander.

Our first beach stop was at Cobmoosa Shores where many years ago we owned a lot.  The area has many more houses than when we bought property there in 1970.  We really had no business buying a lot because we had no extra money, but when we sold it in 1984 to put in a pool, we had made a profit.  The beach is lovely no matter how many houses crowd up to it. 

The beach at Cobmoosa Shores....Oceana County.

Judging from the  number of kayaks, there must be much sporting activity in this area of Cobmoosa Shores.

 A short drive down the road took us to the Stony Lake Channel, which is a popular place for parents to bring their children as the channel is always warmer than Lake Michigan.  I hadn't been there in quite a few years.

The memories really came flooding back when we drove around Stony Lake and I saw the place where I learned to swim.  My first experience as a five year old was taking a school bus from Shelby to the lake. I was dropped off in front of the Fox cottage and Mrs. Fox came out and taught all the little ones.  Two weeks of swimming lessons when I was five taught me very little.  I simply refused to put my face in the water for the poor lady.

My first swimming experience at the age of five was here in front of the Fox cottage.















We took swimming lessons every summer and I remember the bus rides to the lake.  Hearing 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall sung every trip out was more than I could take. Getting into that chilly lake water in the morning could also be a challenge. On the way back in my wet swimming suit I shivered and always had to go to the bathroom.

However by the time I was twelve I could dive off the raft, that no longer is there, and swim a decent side stroke.  Never did like sticking my face in the water too much and doing the crawl and breast stroke weren't my favorites.  However I passed all my tests. 

 

 

The docks surround the place at Stony Lake where I went every summer of my childhood for swimming lessons except for my first year. 











Heading toward Montague on Scenic Drive I yelled, "Stop, I need to take a picture" as we passed a petite pink house that once belonged to a friend's grandparents and now is owned by her mother.  The house is back from the road a bit and settled in beside a pond.  It seems the quintessential place of solitude.  A flower blooming beside a trail that led into the woods caught my husband's eye and I clicked a picture.  It looked similar to a foxglove, but when we later looked it up we discovered it could be a flower called a penstemons.  I have never heard nor seen such a flower before this stop.  

We drove out to Meinert park where my family once held family reunions. It is a county park that sits on Lake Michigan.  From there we drove down roads where August fields were lit with sunlight, hay bales were strewn through golden meadows, white well kept farmhouses dotted the landscape and country gardens were at their prime.


We wandered to the White Lake Channel after driving along the Lake Michigan shore.  I had never seen the White River Lighthouse and I photographed it from across the channel.  That is where the camera battery died.  Everything else we saw I will have to describe like the sailboats floating on White Lake in a regatta.

 

 

 
 Between my freshman and sophomore years of college I worked at Lake Side Inn, a summer resort on the south side of White Lake.  The girls who worked there the summer of 1965 lived in a building we called "The Shack."  It was filled with bunk beds and had one bathroom.  It was the first summer in my life I didn't live at home

I had a job there that reminded me of why I was going to college.  I cleaned rooms and scrubbed toilets.  There was a woman we reported to by the name of Mildred.  When I first started we scrubbed toilets with our bare hands until someone had the guts to tell Mildred we needed toilet brushes.  I think she thought we were wimps, but she got them for us.  The prime job was being a waitress because that's where the bigger tips were.  Families from Chicago and other points south came to the resort and would usually stay at least a week.  Most people left tips for the chamber maids, but it was never much. I do have fond memories of my brother coming some evenings and playing his guitar on the beach while a few of us sang with the guests. 

We were able to find a road close to Lake Side Inn which wandered back to what is a summer colony called Sylvan Beach.  A road further back took us to the lighthouse where there is a house attached and the caretaker lives.  I loved the shape of the lighthouse and texture the brick brought to its overall appearance.  I had been so close to it the summer I worked at the Inn, but I had never seen it before.

As we drove toward Muskegon on Scenic Drive, we passed Pioneer Park, another county park where we had also had family reunions.  My mother's side of the family got together every summer and the big treat for me was that one of the relatives always picked up ice cream that was kept in some kind of cooling bag.  I can still remember the taste of the vanilla in that ice cream.  There was always a business meeting and a ball game and the aunts fixed their best picnic dishes.  And of course there were my cousins and other relatives who came from places unknown and I was never quite sure how they were connected.

We passed Duck Lake and then we were again driving along the big lake.  I knew I had been by the block house many years ago, but I did not remember the expansive beach.  Muskegon State Park took my breath away. Except for a pavillion, there are no structures and the beach is wide and perhaps the most beautiful beach I've ever seen in Michigan.  The water was cold for an August day, but there were kite boarders skimming along the lake and it was a "glad to be alive" day.

We ate lunch at the Bear Lake Tavern on our way around Muskegon Lake and then it was back to the beach road again.  Neighborhoods like Lakeside and Bluffton meet the water.  My father lived in the Lakeside neighborhood for a few years when he was a boy and went to school there.  Pere Marquette Park is again a big beach, but the surroundings are not as pure as Muskegon State Park.

We passed Hoffmaster State Park, but could not see Lake Michigan from the beach road.  Hoffmaster is a nature park and one has to go in a bit to get to the water.  From there we wandered a few back roads to again get as close to the lake as possible and we found ourselves at the Grand Haven Channel.  A huge marina with a swimming pool showed the wealth of those who own the big pleasure boats.

Grand Haven State Park was our final destination before we turned around and started home.  There were many boats going up and down the Grand Haven Channel and the town was still busy with tourists the day after the end of the Coast Guard Festival.

It had been a picture perfect day to take our little adventure and it showed us that we don't have to wander too far from home to discover what is unfamiliar in the familiar.  It is impossible to take all the roads in one lifetime, but the beach road filled us with an unexpected delight and a feeling of belonging to the land and the water.  What could be better?

                                                                                                 

                                        Click on pictures to enlarge.                                                           

In Celebration of Life

I entered the church before my childhood friend Jean's father's funeral and felt a lightness when I heard the music of the big band era sprinkled with jazz.  I wondered why I hadn't thought of that for my own father's funeral.  My father had loved to dance and it would have been so appropriate.

The Methodist Church, which was the setting for the funeral, brought back memories for me.  As a teenager I had sometimes gone to church with Jean and we always sat in the balcony where the young people sat.  The Congregational Church across the street where I attended didn't have a fun balcony.

The purpose of going to church with Jean was to check out the Methodist boys.  It seemed like I had known the boys in my church since I had been in diapers and there was nothing intriguing about them.  I probably should have visited the Catholic Church with another friend who attended there as I really knew all the Methodist boys from school...well heck...I knew the Catholic boys too.  It was a small town.

Jean's father had requested an uplifting funeral service and his family did not disappoint  Ruth and Max Bloomquist, a famous Michigan duo, sang three songs at different intervals and their style had me tapping my toes.

Jean and four grandchildren spoke and shared personal stories about their father and grandfather.  There were humorous anecdotes which caused laughter among the crowd.  Harold, Jean's father, was 94 when he died and had just recently attended his 76th class reunion.  A couple of his classmates were in attendance.

Much like the funerals in New Orleans where a small jazz band escorts the casket to the cemetery, I felt this funeral showed that the memories of one's life can definitely be a celebration.

For that reason I am giving a you tube site where anyone reading this can listen to a song written and sung by Ruth Bloomquist who sang at Harold's funeral.  The loveliness of her voice needs to be shared.  So let's raise a glass to all the people we loved who have gone before us and until it is our turn, let us toast the people we love who still surround us.  May we all celebrate the holiness of life.

Heart and Hand by Ruth Bloomquist

http://youtu.be/kSmL4Xlzy4Y




Beautiful country cemetery in Switzerland