The Anecdotal Life Part. 64

This may be a mumbling along to myself blog, but for a while I had it all. Everyday while I was at the cottage, the air, the water, and fields were clean beyond anything you can possibly envision. Privately, we call it the Caribbean of the North and we are right to do so. Except for one 89 degree day, the temperatures for three weeks were cool during the day, and chilly at night. Made for some good reading. The sky was a standout this year. Some time had been spent by the cosmos decorating that vivid blue. Everything sparkled. Riveting cloud formations held my attention aloft so much I was lucky I didn't fall on my face. Georgia O'keefe would have loved the little identical puffballs littering the horizon. I thought of Albert Enstein's purported ability to mix stripes with plaids when I saw some strange combinations of sweeping cirrus and thundering cumulo-nimbus . It was a though "the planner" didn't know what kind of a day to make it.
Now I'm home, unpacking and unpacking all my "stuff". How does it double in volume? I had gotten rid of a gazebo and inflatable boat, my sister and her stuff( no offense Peg) and it still took me a week. The weather in Annapolis is not nice. Hot, muggy and our rating as having the fifth, dirtiest air quality in the nation is totally on display. When you can see the air dropping like a dirty isinglass curtain before your eyes, you need to leave town. Instead I came back. (Hmmmm) The waters of the once proud Chesapeake are killing the fish and certain areas contain dead zones with zero oxygen. I think longingly of the northern marinas I visited. It would cost four thousand and up to get my boat there.
It affects me directly when I go back to see my boat covered in a beardlike murk from the waterline down, like some homeless person who has no access to a shower or bath. I had to haul up the hose which had been disconnected and left dangling during my absence, and empty the gunk from it before I dared run water through the boat's systems. More than that, I need to move to a new marina where the boat can be in deeper water and avoid some of the trouble, but if you wonder about the bottom of the bay, I dare you to walk out in it. I was getting sick to my stomach just wiping down the hose. It is then that Crystal Lake, Michigan's " see all the way to the bottom" reputation for good visibility, even in twenty to thirty foot depths, comes to mind most graphically, underscoring the difference between the two bodies of water. Well, as they say, "if wishes were horses, I'd have a ranch."

Copyright: August 5, 2007.

The Anecdotal Life Part. 63

And so I left my boat behind me in good hands and went home to Michigan to be with my family and friends from the hills behind and cottages surrounding us. Since three others of our closely knit association had passed away just some months ago, it was an enormous relief not to have to apologize for crying or needing to talk. I didn't have to be brave to spare someone. Even Jolly the communal dog decided if passing away were the thing to do, now was as good a time as any to add to the grievous mix. During our simple , but large family ceremony ,three of us stood off to the side of the beach bawling our eyes out as we let the balloons loose in the air that had Ann and Ruth's names on each side. I could scarcely get myself to release the string from my hand and made some frantic wish as I finally managed to let go. I felt like a small child, illogical and inconsolable, just wanting my sisters back.
But it was a beautiful sight as they rose and the wind reached out to seize and toss them up and over the lake sending them on a straight trajectory towards Traverse City. There were those in the family who had suffered so much and hadn't the strength to attend, and those who preferred to suffer privately. They were missing and missed. My young great nephew blew bubbles throughout the memorial lending an air of the absurd to the melancholy proceedings, but death often makes no sense. I didn't think I could stop crying , but did when the call came to come eat.(hmm)
Following that, we picnicked and the next day went tubing down the incredibly lovely Platte River that wends it's way quietly across the golden sand bars at the edge of Lake Michigan.
We used my new gazebo to good purpose for changing, or camping. It was a whopper. I had had to bring it here and donate it to the Settlement House cottage since my condo association in Annapolis wouldn't let me put it up.
I can't tell you how many times I ran back and forth over the flat stone path my father made and we placed in the ground. We played riotous and ruthless games of Cancellation Hearts on the porch, initiating two of the kids as we did. Nearly set fire to the dock again this year with cascading fireworks. Ate the best berry and apple pies from the Great Traverse Pie Factory, then the best pizza, potato salad, and chocolate cakes. Some were homemade.
Today I am finding the place where I left off in the Chapman Piloting book, picking up towels, rugs, bedding for the laundry, and eating the remainder of a berry pie a piece a day. I put up another quote on the refrigerator. This one by Thomas Jefferson, " I had rather be shut up in a very modest cottage, with my books, my family, and a few old friends, dining on simple bacon, and letting the world roll on as it liked, than to occupy the most splendid post, which any human power can give."
Copyright: July 10, 2007