Picture(d) Perfect

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then Pictured Rock National Shoreline is worth the contents of the Oxford English Dictionary. And because I don’t want to let my attempts at wordplay distract from the star attractions, I’ll just let the pictures (and video) speak for themselves.

Camp Pain Mode

What would camping be without mosquitoes? More pleasant, for one. But as the old adage goes, “if you can’t beat them (or swat them), join together in getting the heck away from them.” Or something like that.

Our kids spent lunchtime enmeshed in mesh, so as to avoid the blood-drawn fate of those kids from Twilight.

Superior-ity Complex

This evening, we made our way to Whitefish Point (Google marker A on the map above) to see its lighthouse and walk its expansive, driftwood-strewn beach. Because this area is on the western edge of the Eastern Time Zone, the summer nights stay lighter much longer. The picture of Reed was taken around 9:45 p.m., and the one of Olivia in the cool waters of Lake Superior was snapped a half hour later.

All Four in One, and One for All

Okay, I lied: below is another of the quirky quadrumvirate.

Falls Sense of Security

Tahquamenon Falls comprise the Upper Falls and Lower Falls (not to mention a delightful restaurant/brewery). The above (upper?) pics are of us hanging out by the Upper Falls in the afternoon, and the lower ones—sorry, couldn’t resist—are those of the Lower Falls outdoor education program that Olivia and Lucy got their feet wet in this evening.

A Stroll(er) in the (State) Park

Reed and Liam popped a mobile squat on Mackinac Island (left) and at Tahquamenon Falls (below).

Lord of the (Butter)Flies

The questioning of our sanity is all the more justifiable this week than others: we have decided to spend four days camping in the hinterlands of the Upper Peninsula (technically, most of the U.P. is land of the hinter variety) with our young children. And that our good friends Phil and Maria—the parents of two kids the same ages as ours—agreed to join us either make (A) them the most tolerant people in the world, or (B) all of us bat-sh*t crazy. The answer is all of the above.

We survived the first night, and our kids were rewarded this morning with a fun and educational butterfly activity sponsored by an educator from Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources.

No-Cars-on-the-Road Island

Mackinac Island is famous for its fudge, Grand Hotel (featured in the 1980 film “Somewhere in Time” starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour), and disallowance of motorized vehicles. Although the place is often overrun by tourists like us, it retains a magic—a carefully crafted one—that’s not unlike the kind one experiences at Disney. And it’s even more magical to spend island time with friends and family, which is exactly what we did on this fine July day.

Petoskey to Our Heart

Petoskey, Michigan has won over our heart time after time. A word cloud of my textual feelings for the town would look something like this:
 

Reed, too, was taken in by quaint community’s charms. On this spectacular summer day, he patrolled the sidewalks of the historic downtown, immersed himself in books with his uncle, and ran freely on the plush lawns of the town’s parks.

 

Sand So Forth Fourth

 We celebrated America’s birthday by celebrating an American’s (belated) birthday at my father-in-law’s summer home on Lake Huron, where we kicked things off with some beach time by the dawn’s early-ish light. 

Bite off More Than One Can Choo-Choo

Our train of thought this morning was to grab a quick bite to eat at Grandma and Grandpa’s, walk to the nearby park, and then board the train we’d thought a lot about ever since our last visit to my childhood home. The kids played fair—fare, I suppose—by equally splitting their roles as conductor and passenger.

Making History

Question: What’s the difference between “historic” and “historical”?

Answer: Two letters.

Better answer: According to language expert Bryan Garner, historical, meaning “of or relating to or occurring in history,” is used far more frequently. Historic means “historically significant,” as in “this lesson on the uses of historical and historic is in no way historic.”

My mother, a retired history teacher, recently made history—literally—when assisting with her local history center’s newest exhibit titled “VOICES: Extraordinary Women in Midland County.” She and the other dedicated volunteers helped research, write about, create displays on, and even portray the women profiled. The center was closed for the long holiday weekend, but we are granted special access to the glorious exhibit. You see, my mom is not only a volunteer and historical actor—she’s also one of the extraordinary women featured.