Up north

Mark and I spent the weekend up north with our friends in Traverse City.   It’s a relaxing, wonderful place to hang and our generous friends are so much fun to visit.

Chris and Ben

These are the kids.   In our absence over the past few months, the oldest had been devoured by a sullen teenager.   Not having children of our own, and only seeing these kids a couple of times a year, it is astounding the changes.   I remember my grandmother saying Jane and I grew like weeds, I would roll my eyes, of course we grew.   Now I see it from her side, it is overwhelming.   Especially since Mark and I haven’t changed a bit.   Shut up.

what old people

I took a look at the oldest’s art wall, and was smitten with this image.   Wonderful, no?

sunset two

Old people really like sunsets, and here is a sunset.   It really is beautiful up there.

kids and lake

The beach is even inviting in winter.

I’m glad to be back with my cats, but it sure is refreshing to take a weekend and get away.

Where I stood…

rabbit track feet

Up north, in front of bunny tracks.

Where I Stand Sunday is an ongoing photo essay examining the different places Lynn Krawczyk spends her life standing. Too often we take for granted the everyday places we spend our lives walking on. If you’d like to join her by posting a photo on Sunday of places you’ve been on your blog/photo hosting site/website, leave a comment on her Sunday posts telling her where she can find you/your photo and she’ll add a link to her sidebar so others can find you. I am one of those that Lynn has badgered into joining her, I have changed it to “where I stood”, because right now I’m sitting in front of the computer, not standing anywhere.


groundhog stamp

Yes, he saw his shadow, it seems like he always does.

Here’s the thing, though.   If he sees his shadow, it only means six more weeks of winter.   Perhaps in Pennsylvania, where Punxutawny Phil, the official groundhog of groundhog day, lives; six more weeks of winter might mean a late spring.   But here in Michigan, six more weeks of winter would mean an early spring.   We can all live with six more weeks of winter, we know we have at least that much.   If Phil can promise me spring in mid March, I’m a happy camper!   (Figure of speech, I don’t camp.   Not in spring, not in summer, not in fall, and certainly not in the winter of my discount tent.)