The wind was wild on the lake Monday afternoon, awakening the sleepy surface into steady waves—small but significant. After my cousins and I got tired of trying not to fall off the skinny dock where we lined up to talk, we moved our conversation huddle to the boat.

We filled up the cushioned seats and overflowed onto the floor where some of us sat crossed-legged on wet turf. My dad eventually rescued us and transformed our stationary soiree into a fast moving one, and as we ventured out for a leisurely cruise around the lake’s perimeter, I couldn’t help but launch into a game of “If.”

“If you could be anywhere right now in the United States, where would you be? Describe the scene.”

Answers varied from lively family reunions in Colorado ski lodges to solitary cruises on Route 66. Which opened up another conversation: “How do you refuel yourself—being with people or spending time alone?” While solitude answers began pouring in, my dad immediately jumped in and answered for me. “You recharge with people. You have to be around people, Kelle” he blurted out. Reflexively, I immediately disagreed, almost ashamed—like it was much cooler to say I recharged by being alone, as if solitary recharging reflects some heightened state of confidence or strength over those who have a “people crutch”.

“I recharge by being alone too,” I said defensively yet weakly, knowing he was probably right though. The thing is, alone time and people time are both necessary for reenergizing all the hidden parts that make us tick. I value quiet walks alone, solitary drives, reading in bed and the rare trip to the beach without kids when I sit and watch the sun set while I challenge myself, think up new ideas and offer grateful sentiments out into the void. But I’m also not going to deny the fact that I’m wired to be most brilliantly inspired when I’m with people. When I listen to them, laugh with them and allow their energy to join forces with mine. And if that means I’ve not arrived at some heightened state of confidence or strength, I’m cool with that. It’s not that I can’t be alone. It’s just that people are kind of awesome.

The past couple of weeks have so beautifully woven together both quiet solitude and energizing crowds, and I am refueled by all of it. Our many days of rest and naps, walks down to the dock and nights when the only sounds you can hear are coyote calls and bullfrog grunts have been perfectly contrasted with loud laughter echoing from the bonfire, kitchen chatter over coffee and sibling dance parties.

Antiquing with cousins at Lewiston’s Antique Depot

Quiet time with family

I squeezed in some fun photo shoots for my niece, Savannah, and her friend, Ali; and my cousin, Tessa–three beautiful, compassionate girls with bright futures.

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On our last night alone at the cottage last night, we ventured out to a marshy part of the lake that promised good fishing.

We’ve been here well over a full week, and Brett wanted so badly for Lainey to catch a fish, but it hadn’t happened. After an hour with no activity, we took a pizza break next to the lake. It was quiet and wonderful—perfectly refueling.

We headed back home, adding catching a fish to our short list of things that didn’t happen on this trip (never did find that Petoskey stone either—so I bought one). A block from the cottage, Brett pulled the car over and stopped.

“One more place,” he said. “We have to try one more time.”

So, as the sun slipped past the tree line and the sky slowly dimmed, I guided Nella to wade in a rocky shallow area while Brett and Lainey put out their first cast. And there you be—a bite, a bobber snagged, a victorious smile on the daddy’s face.

“Reel it in, Lainey! Quick!”

She did as she was instructed, finally raising her pole to reveal a small, colorful bluegill, its scales shimmering in the last of the day’s light.

She proudly showed it to Nella, protectively pulling it back when her sister got too close.

And if that wasn’t the perfect way to end our stay at the cottage, finding a friendly Michigan butterfly was.

So, it’s vacation. I got a little lax on our temporary tat rules.

As we drove through flat farmland in Indiana tonight, after we stopped at Lake Wawasee to enjoy some drinks and appetizers with friends, I breathed slowly and took in the scene. A radiant pink sun setting over corn fields, red barns that seemed to appear every half a mile, a small downtown Main Street, speckled with antique shops and old brick buildings.

“I think my brain grew on this trip,” I told Brett.

Maintaining his gaze on the road in front of him, Brett smiled and answered simply. “Really? Cool.” Because that’s the sort of thing you answer to statements like that. It did though–my brain grew. This whole people fix/quiet solitude mix did something to me. I can’t wait to get home to unleash the power–the ideas, the new initiatives, the redefined focus.

For the record, that solitary drive on Route 66? Yeah, that would be awesome. But it wasn’t my answer. To thine own self be true: I love me some people.

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Last week’s Friday Photo Dump:

And your #enjoyingthesmallthings photos on Instagram:

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Finally, I have a fierce friend who has a lot of other fierce friends. This force of fierceness has built an amazing business that is growing but needs help to turn big dreams into big reality. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may be familiar with the past sponsor, Mamalode magazine. You might even get it in your mailbox and if you do, you’re probably smiling. Well Mamalode is back to sponsor again, but she (I’m going to personify this publication, because she has far too much heart to be an “it”) has a specific mission this week. A mission that needs your help.

Missionsmallbusiness.com is giving up to 12 small businesses a $250,000 grant. And Mamalode has an amazing plan to expand to reach more mamas–a plan that was going to take just about that amount of money from investors. This grant would allow Mamalode to keep equity and creative control and, above all, continue their mission of inspiring and connecting women in bigger and better ways.

Read Publisher Elke’s admirable plea here.

Fierce Elke in her home office

Then head over to Missionsmallbusiness.com, log into support (through Facebook), type “mamalode” in the blank box that says “business type.” And vote. You can support other small businesses in your area as well, but a business must have at least 250 votes to even have their grant proposal read.

Help a sister, a village, a powerful, passionate force out! Help make big dreams become big realities. I believe in Mamalode.

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Goodnight from Carmel, Indiana. Regular organized posts will replace long, rambling vacation posts soon!

While I am anxious to return to writing, this break from the computer has been refreshing. My phone hardly works up here, the Internet is spotty, but the environment has delivered without fail.

Tonight is our last night at this cottage, and while I am excited about returning home, it’s a little bittersweet leaving this place where we’ve made so many memories.

This weekend, every bed was filled with siblings, nieces and cousins, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was lively and celebratory, characterized by decisions to stay up later, make another pot of coffee, throw another log on the fire, take the boat out one more time, step out for one more walk before bed.

With little words and mostly photos, the last of this fabulous week:

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Dig This Chick $50 shop winner is Comment #213, Penny:

I live in a small Louisiana town right on the banks of the Mississippi River. I love the river, Mississippi right across it where the antebellum houses are~ providing gorgeous backdrops for an amateur photographer’s pictures. 🙂 Most of all~ I love that most of my extended family is in this area. I was raised on the Mississippi side with both sets of grandparents on either side of us. Sweet hometown memories. 🙂



Congratulations, Penny! Please send your contact information with the subject line DIG GIVEAWAY WINNER to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net to redeem your gift code.



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And when siblings are together, we make music videos. That’s normal, right? Our crazy music video, as promised on Instagram.



My favorites: how hard we are obviously working to not smile and the part where Brett pretends to casually drive the boat when really we were just parked in still water.

Road Trip Part II to commence.

When I moved from Michigan to Florida eight years ago, Michigan had already acquired its bad economic reputation. I wasn’t the only one who moved away for a job, but once I did, I thought of other reasons I was happy I left that heightened my excitement for adventures and eventually settling down in a new state. Things like cold winters, icy roads, depressing Februaries, and driving by abandoned automobile factories that once were lively and promising but now are boarded up and betrayed. I love Florida, I do. I love that my girls can run barefoot just about every day of the year, and that a decision to head to the beach for an impromptu sunset can transform to reality in the four minutes it takes to get there. I love my choice of moving away because it defined my present life. But being here, tucked in a cottage between the Oaks and Maples and thick pine forests I knew so well, has at least revived good memories and feelings for this state of which I’ve jokingly criticized, perhaps to justify my move. And I must add that this state is slowly rebuilding its economy, and it’s encouraging to see so many residents passionate about its progress.

I am enjoying our surroundings. The stars are brighter and clearer at night, and the environment lends itself to perfect daytime summer fun.

Enjoying this week…

Hammock Naps

Quiet Cottage Mornings

Dock Visits in our Pajamas

Watching Brett Teach Lainey how to fish

Afternoon Baking

Antiquing Small Town Shops with Major Scores

Sleeping Bear Dunes

Sleeping Bear Dunes, recently voted by Good Morning America as the #1 Most Beautiful Place in America, hugs Lake Michigan on the western part of the state. Estimated to be around two thousand years old, the dunes were formed by wind that carried sand from the Lake Michigan bluff and deposited it inland.

This looks like some sort of biblical pilgrimage through the desert. I think Moses wore stripes and cargo shorts too, if I recall.
As we drove into the parking lot nestled at the bottom of the first dune climb yesterday, I actually got a little teary. I remembered it so well from my childhood, and there it was, waiting for me to revisit–older, certainly more appreciative of its beauty, slightly less agile to tackle its steep climb, but most notable toting two little girls who will, perhaps subconsciously, store memories of its splendor deep into their own banks of childhood.

It felt like a very grown-up thing to do–a sort of Godfather moment of heritage as I kneeled down next to Lainey, pointed up toward the summit of that first dune and explained, ‘This is where Mommy came when she was a little girl. I climbed this when I was just a little bigger than you.”

My cousin Timothy, years ago, ran down a dune so fast, he lost his footing and finished the descent as a rolling ball of body and flying sand that gained speed and quite literally bit the dust at the bottom. We handled the dunes slowly and a little more gracefully, although the girls both gave the running down thing a shot.

Nella got tired halfway through the climb and just sort of made a bed out of dune.

And though, at the end, the girls were human sand paper, their skin lightly dusted (and in some places, heavily coated) with a thin layer of soft grains, we finished the climb with ice cream at the base of the dunes, and I drank an entire bottle of water in fifteen seconds flat.

Lake Michigan

Our dunes trip was followed by a stop to a small rocky beach on Lake Michigan where we waded shin-deep in chilly water, scouring the bottom of the lake for Petoskey stones.

We’ve been collecting sand, pebbles and shells from some of our favorite places the past couple of months, and I have a fun home project in mind for them when we return. It involves some of these great vintage jars we’ve been finding at antique shops.

Nella found a ladybug at the beach.

Traverse City

Finally, our very fulfilling day of sight seeing ended last evening in Traverse City, a town so cool even its trees wear stylish knit sweaters.

I could have browsed the shops for hours. My favorites? Green Island, Cali’s (gorgeous clothing downstairs, unique and beautiful home goods upstairs), Sweet Pea (baby and child) and Wilson’s Antiques.

The girls were very interested in Ladies Night specials.

And Lainey enjoyed browsing through baskets of polished rocks and gems at the local rock shop.

The charming town is full of art and color and culture. And cherries. Traverse City is known for its cherries.

How’s that for Michigan, chock-full?

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365 Grateful

I’m pleased to invite you to be part of a writing friend’s gratitude project over at 365 Grateful.

Hailey is hosting a wonderful contest with fabulous prizes (a new camera!) and asking you to submit photos of what you are grateful for along with a short description of your “gratefuls.” It’s easy, fast and a great way to share your inspiration with someone who has some great ideas for encouraging others to live a grateful life (check out her documentary project!)

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And if you haven’t yet discovered my friend Nici’s handmade appliqued clothing, I suggest you check out her shop, Dig this Chick. Specializing in geographical silhouettes, Dig this Chick combines high quality fabrics purchased from US companies, upcycled thrift finds and meticulous machine stitching to offer unique hip clothing for the entire family.

Brett shows his Florida love in Michigan with the gray unisexy Geo Tee

Lainey and I wear our upcycled shirt skirts, available for big girls and little girls.
Use code digkelle for 20% off your order. Because I’m gushing about my love for my home state in this post and Nici is known for her love of hers (Montana), leave a comment telling me what you love about where you live (or where you came from!), and I’ll randomly choose (random.org generated) one comment to win a $50 credit to Dig this Chick.

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And now, there is nothing I want more than to close this computer and get back outside with my girls. A quiet dock is calling.

Happy Summer.