Autumn Reds Arrive

Virginia creeper

Staghorn sumac

creeper

sumac

Leaving the Main Road Behind

We saw a sign for a garage sale. Initially David slowed but then drove on past. After all, we hardly need anything. “Unless you want to stop?” Well, I said, maybe they’d have a couple of old plastic pails or something? Man’s World, as we call the garage barn and basement, sometimes needs contains for random projects, and the Queen of the Kitchen does not appreciate having her saucepans appropriated. So we went a little farther down the road, turned around, and went down the driveway toward Lake Leelanau to discover Paradise.

Polish Heritage Farm is a small, diversified agricultural operation. They have pigs, goats, ducks, and all kinds of chickens. Guarding the chickens from marauding foxes are neat little guinea hens. The guineas forage for their own meals, and there’s a market for their beautiful feathers.

Our genial host was so forthcoming with information that I could only absorb and retain maybe 5-10% of what he told us. Also, I was distracted by the surroundings – so much life everywhere! It's hard to concentrate in a state of total bliss, which is how I felt with the animals sounds and smells and the soft autumn breeze and the happy children.

We came away with a carton of fresh eggs, and when we go back soon for produce I’ll take along my scythe for sharpening. I feel like we discovered a gold mine! I need to get more pictures, too, on future visits.

Good Morning Across the Bay

Pulling the Island In Closer...

...through the magic of ZOOM!

Change of Season in the Air

Today may be the last day of summer, with temperatures dropping tonight to something more like fall.

The Little Things I Love in Northport #1

Of course, we have Grand Traverse Bay and a beautiful marina and a fabulous farmers market and library and so much more, but it's worth slowing down to walk the side streets to find delightful little surprises like this volunteer mountain ash growing from accumulated organic material in the arms of an old, old maple tree. We've all heard of "nurse logs" in the forest, but here is an example of a living tree as nursery.

Dinner in Fishtown

On Sunday, following the taking down, packing up, and moving back to his studio/gallery the paintings from David’s show at the Dennos Museum Center, one of our helpers invited us to dinner at his shanty on the river, one of Leland’s famous old Fishtown buildings. It was the perfect evening to celebrate the culmination of a beautiful art exhibition, and everywhere I looked the view was enchanting, from the doorway of the shanty across the river to fish tug and shops ...

to the sturdy island ferry, Mishe-Mokwa ...

to sweet little female mallards on the docks.

There were simple picnic table appointments and a delicious dinner that included salad from dockside containers. 

But I couldn't keep my eyes from straying to the river's edge, hoping to see otters. Any otters? No, just ducks. But they were lovely on the softly gleaming ripples of the river.

Without clouds in the sky, sunset was an uncomplicated, undramatic affair but still lovely as the sky’s color deepened, reflections darkened, and lights came on in the harbor.

Then we heard it! Too loud and close to us to be a nighthawk and without that bird’s raspy cry, it was -- yes, it was – an otter! Swimming and diving and uttering his warning squeak over and over, he would not hold still to have his portrait taken and seemed quite annoyed with the human beings who didn’t know when it was time to leave the river and go to bed so the true riparians could get on with their business. Not much of a photo, no portrait at all, and I was too excited even to think about trying for a video (which probably would have been as great a failure as my one image of the swimming otter above), but you can visit an otter video and hear his warning squeak here. I was so, so pleased to hear an otter! "We could have gone our whole lifetime without hearing an otter," I said to David. My joy in the day and evening was complete. It was time to go home.