Summer Bucket
Also known as the post with a million pictures

There’s a little bridge between the bliss of a memory-making vacation and the reality of returning home, and it’s called the last day.  In my case, that means madly stashing more memories–the Midwest specialized kind–in the one day I have left and preparing to shift back into real life mode soon. 

Getting away offers a great birds-eye perspective to life, and I’m inspired to “clean the shelves” in our home and make room for some of the things I’ve been thinking about the past two weeks–peace and simplicity and family and the joy that follows making decisions to create meaningful moments. 

This past week was spent in a cottage in the woods in northern Michigan. It was as proverbial as it sounds.  Bonfires, s’mores, coffee on the dock, stargazing, kids that by the end of the night smell like dirt and firewood and fishing worms and mamas that wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oh, where to begin.

Okay, the setting.

So Michigan is like the old boyfriend I left and bumped into ten years later to realize Dude just got superhot over the years and is looking mighty good these days.

First of all,  he smells amazing.  All earthy and Oakish and manly. 

And his eyes?  Dreamy. At night, they’re glossy and black and full of stars. And during the day, they change from the reflective blue of summer sky to a million facets of green–from deep and dark evergreens to sunny warm ferns.

He’s suave, this Michigan–serenading with morning bird calls, soothing with afternoon summer breezes. His air is cool and crisp, his sun warm and inviting.  And his lakes?  Well, he’s blessed in the lake department if you know what I mean.

All this to say, that summer bucket list? 
So many things crossed off–things I didn’t even know were on it. 

Like making a summer apple pie and eating it on a picnic table in the woods.

Or sudsing up the baby under a canopy of Oaks and Maples for an outside bath.  He liked it.

Morning kayaking with family.

Or an afternoon game of Jai Lai, knee deep at the lake’s pointe.

We lived and breathed summer the past two weeks– drank it in huge gulps and made note that it was really good.  I can’t tell you how many times I said, smiling, “My kids.  My kids are going to remember this.”  All those summer memories I have of riding in the car with my siblings,  blowing straw paper spit-wads on the rear view mirror from the backseat; searching Tawas rock shops for polished Petoskey stones; acting out the summer Olympics with my cousins; scouring the Great Lake shores for round pebbles and smooth green lake glass–it’s my kids’ turn now.  And I watched them, ridiculously happy, summer satisfied, and I couldn’t have been happier knowing their childhood books are being written.

Sparklers with Cousin Brooklyn

Don’t know where Nella is?  Check the marshmallows.


Night sparks and Uncle Bubby

The very best part?

Family.  Our people.

How we’ve allowed so many miles to separate us, I’ll never know.
But my kids know their family.  They just know–you can tell.

The first night my siblings and I all spent the night together last week, the huddle just sort of happened on its own.  It started with a discussion on politics and then led into a passionate conversation on religion and ethics and people and family–hours ticking away while we talked deep into the night–blankets spread across the floor, snacks sprawled across tables.  Until someone mentioned, “Is it light outside?” And, horrified, we realized kids would soon be waking up and our chance at sleep was gone.  So we made coffee and welcomed the sunrise together on the dock, promising to change shifts for sleep that day. The following six hours were hell.  Hell, I tell you. I’ve never been so tired in all my life.  But that conversation?  Those hours spent together?  Absolutely worth it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Besides, grown cousins are so awesome at helping keep kids entertained.

That’s the thing about this Michigan. It goes behind his good looks and his earthy cologne and his nightly serenades. He’s got heart.  He’s got my family.

And now he has a nice stack of summer memories for my kids too.

So happy to have the opportunity to come home.
And grateful to go home too. We miss the daddy.

Good night from the beloved home state–where summer is magic.

It was a last minute decision to tack on Mackinac Island to our trip and one that will be filed away in the better decisions of my life drawer–not to be confused with its counterpart, the drawer which houses my tattoo decision, that one box of red hair color back in the day and–oh, choosing to sit on the open deck of Shepler’s Ferry on our ride to the island Monday.  They had a bottom deck, all cozy and warm with windows for great views, but no.  We’re adventurous.  We like the wind in our hair.  So we sat down with three kids and smiled as the boat slowly backed out of the marina. But do you know what happens after slowly backing out?  It’s called full speed. Thankfully, Dash slept through it tightly wrapped in a blanket, but the girls?  Hated it.  Hated it.  Wind trauma.  Enough said.

Redemption comes in the form of the magical island that welcomed us.

Ladies and Gentlemen (trust me, it deserves the introduction)…Mackinac Island.

Otherwise known as the enchanting location from the movie Somewhere in Time and officially the place where I want to spend summers in my imaginary life.

The Mackinac Bridge connects the mitten of Michigan to the upper peninsula and just to the east of the bridge is Mackinac Island–eight miles around, the perfect bike ride distance, appropriate because there are no cars on the island.  Bikes and horses, horses and bikes.

Pre-ferry boarding, a little Lake Huron exploring in front of the Mackinac Bridge

Nella was, at first, apprehensive of the horses, their massive size a bit overwhelming, but it wasn’t long before she pointed out every single one she saw with an enthusiastic “Ook!  Mom!  Horsie!”  Lainey, rather, chose to point out every pile of evidence from the horses.  “Look.   Mom.  Poop.”

The island’s energy is nothing short of entrancing, its unique blend of sights, sounds and smells bewitching guests into a relaxed and happy vacation hypnosis.  Sweet hints of fudge waft through Main Street, horse hooves steadily clip-clop down paths, fragrant lilac blooms grace every corner and Lake Huron hugs the entire canvas with a different breathtaking backdrop visible from every angle: bridge and water, water and lighthouse, rocky shore and hotel-spattered bluff–all of it beautiful.

We stayed at the charming Island House Hotel,  originally constructed as a beach house in 1852 and restored and expanded throughout the century to its present state.  The rooms were beautiful and the views exquisite.

Late afternoon, all those adirondack chairs in front are full of folks chatting, looking out at the harbor while a back-up choir of voices echoes from the rocking chairs behind them on the porch.  So charming, I couldn’t stop smiling. 

It felt very Anne of Green Gables.  I admit, we’re rusty on comparisons because Cousin and I threw out Anne Shirley, the Kennedys, the VonTrapps–none of them sharing anything in common except beautiful accommodations and scenery.  That we enjoyed.

Dash is a little too small to ride in a bike trailer, so we rented an extra stroller so Lainey wouldn’t get tired, and we walked and walked and walked the island while I pointed and gasped and gushed “this is unreal.”

Watching my girls, I connected so much more to the memories of my childhood vacations–to this very place–and realize that every one of those priceless memories took effort and time and my parents’ decision to load up and head out. Lots of schlepping.

And while the kids really were so cooperative and easy-going, we had our moments. Monday night, adopting the “When in Rome” philosophy, we put jammies on the kids and headed out to Main Street assuming we’d eat, walk, explore and the kids would fall asleep. They did, and it was grand–Lainey hunched over in the stroller, Nella strapped to my back and Dash in my cousin’s arms. But then there were four stairs. Four stairs we had to climb at the very end of our journey, returning to our room. We attempted the two-person stroller lift; but as I led the stroller up the stairs holding the foot rest with my hand and my cousin followed with the handles, the stairs seemed to grow steeper and steeper until the stroller was practically vertical. Lainey woke up hollering “I’m upside down!,” Dash started crying, we dropped a backpack and there, two steps away from the finish line, we just gave up. Dropped everything and sat on the stairs hysterically laughing, unable to move.

Those memories must accompany the more graceful ones, I am sure of it. 

A favorite–the red phone booth outside the Grand Hotel. The girls spent half an hour in and out of the booth. Opening the door, shutting the door, talking on the phone, making faces against the glass.

And the Grand Hotel?  Holy Mother of Mackinac. You feel like you’ve gone back in time.

I gush annoyingly when I’m amazed by beautiful places.

“Are we in a movie?  Because I feel like we’re in a movie.  We are walking in a movie.”

Mission Point.  We carefully walked along the water’s rocky edge, choosing large flat rocks to sit on and scanning the smaller ones for good throwing stones–the louder kerplunk the better. 

We also bumped into a blog reader and fell in love with her little Annie. Annie and Nella had lots to say to each other:

Feeling a little incomplete without the daddy here, but it gives us a good excuse to come back. I now feel like it’s my life duty to introduce people I love to this place.

Pepper, Lainey’s doll of choice to accompany our trip (coming soon to North American Bear)

Feeling grateful, adventurous and full.

Happy Weekend.

It feels more like home every time I’m here–family, of course, making up  for the bulk of it, but the memories–all of a sudden, these childhood memories resurfacing–the bonfires, the chipmunks, the soft grass, the oak leaves, the acorns, the dogwood, the birch bark, the robins, the pebbles on Lake Huron shore.  I am picturing my kids’ brains doing data entry–the scenes, the scents, the sounds–storing, storing, storing.  Tiny little brain typewriters tapping away.  Tiny little brain cameras clicking.

Michigan.  We’re in soul recharge mode.

I brought a stack of soul-filling books and a highlighter with me, but I haven’t picked up one yet.  I’m finding myself mind-highlighting more with real-life scenes.

Like these.

Lainey watching Cousin Brooklyn doing gymnastics.  All she’s been talking about. 

This is my family. 
My family meeting my family.
My heart is so full.

I’ve said “Summer Bucket List, Check” about ten times the past two days.  Like flower wreaths for our hair.  And Mackinac Island Fudge.  And catching frogs.  And making dandelion wishes.  And s’mores.  And coffee on the dock.  And “Mom, are they my cousins too?”

We’re currently on Mackinac Island, and my girls are little tourist sponges, begging me to head out of our hotel room again.  So, that we’ll do.

More to come.

Those Pure Michigan commercials?
They’re for real.  This place is so beautiful.

Happy Summer, friends.  Make lots of memories this season.

…off to explore the nightlife…jammied kids in strollers.