Lilac Thief

I was on my way to deliver a gift when I passed the old school house turned house and gasped. The house had been empty for quite some time and the real estate sign was gone so I wondered if it had been sold. I decided I would stop to take a look on my way back home.

That I did.  I pulled over into a driveway that was fading and looked at the overgrown lawn.  The front door was very close to the road so I peeked in the window to see if the place was truly empty.  

O.K. good...no one to ask if I could pick some lilacs that were leaning over and touching the front door.  The road going past the house was not a busy one, but still I felt a little guilty if anyone saw me.  

The reason I had gasped when I first saw the lilacs was because of the colors.  The lilac bush closest to the house was a dark vibrant purple, not a color frequently seen.  The bush next to the purple one was a beautiful bluish shade of lavender, not the pale color that is so frequent along roadsides.  The last bush contained double white blooms which seemed rare to me as well.  

I started breaking off the dark purple stems and heard a car coming.  I ducked my head into the bush as the car passed.  My problem is I have never taken anything except flowers without asking permission but even so I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.  

In order to get to the lavender lilacs I had to step in a ditch and it was deeper than I thought.  After picking the lavender blue lilacs, I walked along to the double whites and another car drove past me.  I then walked in the small ravine toward my car.  Before I got out of the ditch I had brushed against something that stung my feet which were only in sandals.  I guess it would be my punishment for taking without asking if I got poison ivy.  

Van Winkle School turned house, place of the lilac thievery, was one of many schools my father attended when he was a boy.  He told me how he would walk to school and some Russian boys would steal his lunch.  He was small for his age.  He finished the 8th grade at Van Winkle.  I wonder if there were lilacs growing there when he was a child.

The purple, lavender, and white bouquet was a picture to behold and I don’t regret my transgression.  When I think of lilacs I always think of Walt Whitman’s poetic tribute to Abraham Lincoln.  The poem contains sixteen stanzas, but three gives one a taste of the whole.  

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

1

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d.

And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,

I mourn’d and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,

Lilac blooming, perennial and drooping star in the west,

And thought of him I love.

2

O powerful western fallen star!

O shades of night - O moody, tearful night!

O great star disappear’d - O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless - O helpless soul of me!

O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.

.

3

In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash’d palings,

Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,

With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love,

With every leaf a miracle-and from this bush in the dooryard,

With delicate-color’d blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,

A sprig with its flower I break.

Reflection

Several years ago

I took the grandchildren

to show them graveyard

history while we planted

pink geraniums and  

read the markers

I explained that once a year

we put flowers on graves

to honor parents, grandparents

and little brothers

who were babies

when they left

this world

Thinking a four year old

might not understand what

is beneath the ground

and why a large stone

sits on top I quietly said

we come to this place

to remember those we loved

who have left our lives

Little minds often understand

more than we think as

later when the youngest saw

a cemetery he remarked

“That’s a place to take

flowers to remember

your mother who died

a long time ago.”

My maternal grandparents:  Anna (1892-1995) and Michael (1884-1925) Babinec

Not competent

The poem that won the contest

was long and involved

with unfamiliar phrases

linked together

like prose

A photo of the author

showed a twenty something

with her blonde hair gleaming

in a halo of light

and youthfulness

It had seemed important

to submit my one good poem

but reading last year's winner

caused me to climb down from my pedestal

and retreat into obscurity from where I had come

Lakes and Peninsulas

I am not one who travels over water very comfortably so I made sure I had taken a motion sickness pill before we got on the Lake Express to travel to Wisconsin in early May.  It was only the second day of the 2014 season that the Express was running from Muskegon to Milwaukee and even though it was a gloomy day, the lake was fairly calm. The waves were not super high like my last boat trip to watch whales off Monterey, California where I ended up in a fetal position on the deck.  

However once the boat got beyond the channel I felt the boat rocking a bit and I decided maybe I should take a second pill.  If one works well, than two must work better.  WRONG! One probably would have kept me comfortable, but two put me in a catatonic  state.  I didn’t totally wake up until we got to Fish Creek in the late afternoon..

The weekend was a get together in Door County with some old friends, Lee and Karen Lewis.  When we planned the trip I visualized cherry blossoms and nothing cooler than sweater weather.  What was amazing was that although Lake Michigan was clear of ice, there were ice chunks on Green Bay which is on the sunset side of Door County.  There were no cherry blossoms yet and it was jacket weather, but sunny.

Our friends Lee and Karen Lewis

Our destination was The White Gull Inn in the town of Fish Creek. Karen and I liked the pictures online showing cozy rooms with gas fireplaces and small sitting rooms.  Our room opened up on a long front porch with wicker furniture on the second floor of the Inn. Lee and Karen’s room opened up on a heated closed in porch at the back of the Inn.

On Friday night we had reservations  for one of  the famous Door County fish boils that was cooked behind the Inn.  It was a chilly night, but after the water boiled over, the fish and potatoes were cooked.  It was then time to go into the dining room to feast on the potatoes, fish and coleslaw with cherry pie and ice cream for dessert. These fish boils are so popular that the restaurant at the Inn was full and there was a second boil at 7:00 p.m. that Friday night.  In the summer they have the fish boils four nights a week.  

Door County is much like Old Mission Peninsula north of Traverse City.  There are wineries and small villages.  Like the Traverse City area,the main crop is cherries.  However another highlight of Door is their lighthouses.  We drove to the Cana Island Lighthouse near Bailey’s Harbor on the Lake Michigan side of the peninsula. We were able to see the living quarters and the beauty of the old buildings.  There are eleven lighthouses on the peninsula and surrounding islands.  A lighthouse festival in June attracts people to some of the less accessible lights on the islands.  

Once a year the shipyard is opened in Sturgeon Bay for people to tour where ships are made and mended.  We happened to hit the right weekend.  One company makes only yachts and there was one in the water with craftsmen working on the interior.   The men took the tour and were fascinated by the number of jobs created by this industry. One has to be very wealthy to own a yacht like the one at the dock.  The men were told it will cost the buyer around 50 million and was going to someone in the Mediterranean.  

While the men were learning something new, Karen and I were shopping.  We drove a few miles south of Fish Creek to the tiny town of Egg Harbor.  Little specialty  shops were the norm in Egg Harbor as well as Fish Creek.  

After bidding a fond farewell to Lee and Karen on Sunday, Hack and I  headed to the Upper Peninsula and saw that Lake Superior was still frozen.  We managed to get out snow covered roads to Pictured Rocks and see some roaring waterfalls.  At Grand Marais, a small town on Lake Superior, we stopped at the Sportsman’s Restaurant and had a great hamburger. We were able to pick up some colorful rocks on the beach at Grand Marais for our grandson Carter who has a collection.   May is not the optimum time to visit the UP, but I find that in traveling, there are always some adventures to be had no matter what time of year it is.  

Simple beauty on the shores of Lake Superior

The drive on U.S. Route 2 along the northern side of Lake Michigan is very picturesque and the first view of the majestic Mackinac Bridge is always a thrill.  I liked the sign at the entrance unto the bridge that said Lower Peninsula.  For us it is a four hour drive from the bridge to home.  After a stop for dinner in Gaylord at my favorite restaurant there, The Bearded Dog, it was good to push the next three hours for home and sleep in our own bed.  Traveling always energizes my life, but coming home also fills me with a deep sense of satisfaction in the familiar and the memories added from another road trip.

Photographic Journey of Lakes and Peninsulas

Fish Creek, Wisconsin

Drink cart beside Inn for fish boils.

White Gull Inn and sign.

Adding potatoes to boiling water and the boil over when both fish and potatoes
are cooked.

Porch on second floor of Inn

Cute gate and light just down the road from the Inn..

Ice chunks on Green Bay just a short walk from the White Gull  Inn.

Cana Island Lighthouse

Even though it is called an island light house, Cana Lighthouse is accessible by walking on a dirt road with water on both sides.  

The period living quarters of the lighthouse......

Privy on lighthouse grounds.

Sites in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan

My partner in life and on the road.

Sable Falls near  Pictured Rocks

Boat at Grand Marais

Inside the funky Sportsman's Restaurant in Grand Marais.

Beautiful sign on an old building in Grand Marais.

A view of the Mighty Mac....the bridge to home.