Warren Dunes 2009

There were big piles of sand dumped all over Michigan when the monstrous glaciers receded, shuffling their scraping toes across the bedrock.



Camping at the dunes was a very good thing- hardwood forest surrounds the area and miles upon miles of nature trails weave through it. We followed those trails, found and climbed a giant dune... just to run down it.


The beach was decent- nice drop off at the shore. I like a body of water that forces you into it. Good for water-frisbee.



Note: bad drainage during storms. A lot of the roads grow mud puddles and pot holes. another negative- no alcohol allowed in the summer (but in fall it's just fine). It may cut down on the crazy kids, but it also interferes with some of my favorite beverage choices.

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There is actually someone standing there, at the top.


Here-







































One of the last things we did was night hiking.
Frowned upon by the posted signs, we took it upon ourselves to cover miles of winding trail at night, ending at the beach just in time to gawk at the stars and watch a thunderstorm start to saunter cross Lake Michigan. We decided not to stay for its arrival, but the light show was decent and the cool sand on our feet was worth every single stub-toed stumble across roots for the hour of blind trailing we foolishly undertook to get there.


No pictures of that- and my camera broke on this trip, so photos after this event are decidedly sketchy.

Until next time.

Cranberry Lake

...was stormy and wet and full of mosquito bites.

But it was a good place to relax with a frisbee and some cards.






Main topics of conversation in the "compound" (we had 3 tents): Cross-cultural communication, more specifically- missing cues. The faux pas of it all and the assumed negativity. The silence. The long walks to the bathroom. Twenty-five cents for 5 minutes of shower, which is cold anyway. The bridge is too narrow. The rain. The rain. The rain.

yes, in my palm

"All good things must come to an end." -Someone who forgot the rest of it.

One thing, my vacation, has just ended. It has gone the way of All Things.

This end, the end of the vacation, was expected. But things don't always end when we expect them to end. For example: life. Life ends all the time suddenly and without warning. I've said it so much and for so long that it's trite to me, but it still needs saying. Especially for those of us who like to forget about the punctuation at the end of the sentence. That's most of us. I'm pretty sure it is, anyway, based on the shock I've witnessed in this bizarre culture of kitty transplants that I wade through. I'm getting wordy. Let me stop.

My cat died while I was on vacation. It happened exactly halfway through my trip. I didn't know he was sick before I left, and he's already dead and buried before I'm back. This is either the best or the worst way it could have happened. Maybe both. I believe in paradox.



How he went and that there wasn't a proper goodbye isn't what's real to me. What's real is him being gone. The absence of life. Of love. Of something good.

Something fills in after the vacuum of End leaves.



I've been imagining him 1/10th his size since he left this world, living in the palm of my hand: fuzzy little killing machine of my daydreams. Every time I see something that deserves an attack or is otherwise interesting, I let him go for it.

Thus far, I've set him loose on stiff-legged beach birds, pigeons in the park, and small children that look too happy.

He does well.