![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
LJ seems not to be working for me at all. Maybe time to move, at least for now.
Saturday we came back to Chicago from our wonderful week at Grand Marais (Upper Peninsula of Michigan). If I wait until I can post pictures, I'll forget to write, so here's the verbal version only. I love the UP because it's so much like the coast of SC used to be, remote, forgotten, simple, lonely. We had a cabin on the shore of the bay, a little harbor of refuge (not really a marsh, in spite of the name), and beyond the little peninsula/sand bar was the great lake itself, a little freshwater ocean, in fact. Sometimes I fall in love with elements of the earth. Last time it was Mt. Rainier near Seattle, and now it's Lake Superior: so vast, so clear, so cold, so pure. Nothing like my warm sweet south Atlantic, but I think I can have a multitude of loves. The little town had some taverns, some diners, a hardware store, a few galleries, and some fishermen. And old houses. In the bay were sailboats, along with kayakers and scuba divers (did I mention the water is clear). From the deck of our little house we could see glorious sunsets AND sunrises--so amazing. I only see that vivid red at home in late fall and winter. On the lake itself, the sunset was overwhelming--light and water were the whole world. But along the shore, the most amazing rocks. I don't yet know how to recognize agates, but all the others are so amazing: streaked, mottled, striped, spotted, marbled, and pitted, smoothed round by the sea, red, blue, white, and a millions grays. Loons on the lake, fog in the morning, a diner that sells whitefish sandwiches and cherry pie. We hiked to see lighthouses and shipwrecks, and took a boat to see the cliffs streaked with white and red and green and black.
The original home of peace. But I wouldn't want to be there in the winter.
Saturday we came back to Chicago from our wonderful week at Grand Marais (Upper Peninsula of Michigan). If I wait until I can post pictures, I'll forget to write, so here's the verbal version only. I love the UP because it's so much like the coast of SC used to be, remote, forgotten, simple, lonely. We had a cabin on the shore of the bay, a little harbor of refuge (not really a marsh, in spite of the name), and beyond the little peninsula/sand bar was the great lake itself, a little freshwater ocean, in fact. Sometimes I fall in love with elements of the earth. Last time it was Mt. Rainier near Seattle, and now it's Lake Superior: so vast, so clear, so cold, so pure. Nothing like my warm sweet south Atlantic, but I think I can have a multitude of loves. The little town had some taverns, some diners, a hardware store, a few galleries, and some fishermen. And old houses. In the bay were sailboats, along with kayakers and scuba divers (did I mention the water is clear). From the deck of our little house we could see glorious sunsets AND sunrises--so amazing. I only see that vivid red at home in late fall and winter. On the lake itself, the sunset was overwhelming--light and water were the whole world. But along the shore, the most amazing rocks. I don't yet know how to recognize agates, but all the others are so amazing: streaked, mottled, striped, spotted, marbled, and pitted, smoothed round by the sea, red, blue, white, and a millions grays. Loons on the lake, fog in the morning, a diner that sells whitefish sandwiches and cherry pie. We hiked to see lighthouses and shipwrecks, and took a boat to see the cliffs streaked with white and red and green and black.
The original home of peace. But I wouldn't want to be there in the winter.