Ticks and tricks

There are no ticks on Beaver Island. I’m not quite sure I believe it myself yet, but that’s what they say. Before the wedding, I took The Beast to the Indiana Dunes where she acquired seven or so of those horrid tagalongs. If I never have to feel for those telltale lumps again (not to mention find their creepy little bodies on the floor and in my bed), I’ll be happy. So letting her run wild here on the Island with one less thing to think about suits me just fine thankyouverymuch.

Still, I’ve been lobbing the ball with the Chuckit in the driveway here because the ferns and duff make finding balls a bit difficult. She finds enough reason to run through the woods without me launching the ball in that direction. My aim with the Chuckit is a bit off though (I’d blame the busted ribs but I’ve been known to bean random people at the dogparks with my shots). As the dogs ran down the dirt and pine driveway last week, the red ball landed in a branch. Gazza and Rudy combed the area thoroughly, oblivious to the ball above them. Go figure it’s one of only three small branches that tower above the long driveway. I could never hope to land it there if I tried (as evidenced by the futile throwing of rocks to knock it loose). I expected the wind to knock the ball down, but it spent a few nights up there, swaying peacefully in the breeze, until Peleke got it down with some well-placed rocks and sticks.

Before the ball stranding, though, I'd been enjoying the quiet morning with Gazza and Rudy. I happened to glance to my left at one point and was delighted to see two long spiderweb strands- and I do mean long! The reached from the bottom branches of the pines to nearly the forest floor. The seeming impossibility of that from what was (hopefully) a small spider prompted me to step in for a closer look. After one step, I realized what I was actually seeing was a fascinating optical illusion of similarly impossible likelihood.

Three tall pine trees in the shadow of the woods lined up perfectly so that the two parallel to the road tightly framed the third, which stood a few feet further back. They have grown so tall and straight that from just the right angle and with the sun filtered through the leaves just so, the thinnest glimmer of pure light shone through on either side of the furthest tree. Those parallel slivers of light reached from the lower branches to the ferns looking like two long shimmering spiderweb strands.

Crazy.

Deep discussions being had on Beaver Island

Peleke

This would be a great place to build a plane except for having to ship all the parts over by plane or ferry.

Wenikio

That would be cool. Would you really want to do the test flight on an island though?

Peleke

What do you mean?

Wenikio

I’m sure you’re a conscientious builder and all, but what if something happened? Like a wing fell off?

Peleke

Um, if a wing fell off, I don’t think it matters if you’re over land or water.

Touche.

Most of you know this by now (and apparently many of you knew before I did anyway...), but Peleke is home early. AWESOME.

So you'll pardon me for being silent awhile. Regular posting to return next week :)

Squashed

As you drive East, the blue Lake Michigan waters shimmering in the distance, there’s a charming sight on the packed dirt road back to the cabin. A fairly nondescript plot of land sits on the south side of the road, hemmed in on three sides by tall trees. There’s something about the trees on Beaver Island that I have yet to put my finger on. They’re certainly not old growth, my dad thinks they might be second or even third generation growth, but they are tall. The woods are full and soft from the thick layer of duff covered immediately by the sea of ferns and then higher up by the branches dancing in breezes enjoyed only by birds and leaves. Under the branches currently garbed in colorful but tattered splendor, birds dart in the shadows, sometimes disappearing down beneath the brown ferns. If you stand quietly, you’ll hear them all calling. The mysterious life under the ferns is being exposed this month by their withering. I wonder if the mice and smaller creatures ever feel deceived by this show of fragility by the very things that gave them thick cover all summer.



These beautiful woods cover most of the island and of course surround the piece of land along the road home. A John Deere tractor sits by the driveway for $200. There’s the house set in back of the lot. The building up closer to the road is adorned with horseshoes and various clutter of life. There’s a garden in back that must provide the furnishings for the rickety table at the side of the road. Rain, hail, or shine, acorn and butternut squash have been placed out every day we’ve driven by. A clear plastic container with its top cut off serves as the donation box, a clunky old piece of hardware weighting it down from the winds coming straight off Lake Michigan.

My mom and I have been buying the squash and savoring them. They are big, colorful, and full of fall flavor. They still have some dirt on them, and I can’t get enough of just feeling their pleasant shapes and smooth skins in my hands. I realize how much I’ve missed them and already mourn their passing days. Each year I conveniently forget how much I really love squash until it’s sitting there on the plate in front of me. That sounds admittedly strange coming from an American who is rapidly approaching Thanksgiving in the Midwest.

As I reheated some of the fresh squash the other night for a midnight snack, I watched the bowl spin around in the microwave. I couldn’t help feeling a little sad, like the process of microwaving took some of the essence of the squash away. Directing high concentrations of anything (especially types of energy) towards another thing is vaguely disconcerting to me.

No, I’m not going to start eating raw foods or even stop using the microwave, it’s just that I do wonder at the marvel of modern eating. And there’s something about fall that stirs longings. Sometimes it’s for people, sometimes it’s for the past or future, and sometimes, well, sometimes it’s just for squash.

Rethinking

Sometimes I happen to write a batch of emails (putting it that way makes something personal sound so impersonal) at the same time about recent thoughts and experiences. I don't want to "cut and paste" emails, though, because there are subtly different things I would or wouldn't mention to people. The past few months I've felt a little guilty that more indepth emails to particular people overlap quite a bit, and then when I go to blog, much of what was said in email ends up on this blog too. If it's any consolation, rest assured that you "lucky" email recipients got the thoughts first :)

As I was writing last night, it occurred to me that be the situation as it may, I also appreciate the duplicity. I find multiple tellings help give me different perspectives of whatever experience or thought may be described. I suppose on some level I anticipate the recipient's reactions and tweak the rendition accordingly. It's definitely not as dynamic as an actual interaction, but it's enough to prompt some thoughts I might not have had if I had kept it to myself.

And that, dear friends, is a big reason why I have this darned thing in the first place. So thanks :)

I craved to go beyond the garden gate
follow the road that passed it by
and set out for the unknown.

~Alexandra David-Neel

For a few weeks one summer in college, my best friend and I camped and drove her convertible up from Arizona along the Pacific Coast Highway (HW 1) up to Seattle. It was a pretty trip with few showers and many postcards written with the help of fire and wine! The gate in the above picture was somewhere between Los Angeles and San Francisco. It's one of my favorite pictures of the trip.

We took a more direct route home (after a detour through McCall, ID). It was twenty-two hours straight of driving. The Killers CD was stuck in the player since Jess was sleeping, and I wasn't about to change it with cliff on one side and canyon on the other in the middle of the night. To this day I have vivid memories of driving through canyonlands in the wee small hours of the morning when I hear Hot Fuss. Ahh college memories...

Snow in the forecast? For real?

On Beaver Island without phone or internet. Niiiice. Will post pictures and stories when we get home next week. Until then, enjoy the silence. I know I am!

I’ve been accused of being immature

"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities."

~Theodor Seuss Geisel (AKA Dr. Seuss)

Hopefully not

Have you ever noticed that every flight is a "designated nonsmoking flight"? It begs the question, are there any designated smoking flights?

My new favorite word

Jejune:
1. Lacking nutritive value
2. Devoid of significance or interest
3. Juvenile, puerile

Perfect fall weekend (minus a few key characters)

The past six days have been a haze of sleeping, eating, and wandering around in a fog. My health is getting undeniably better, so we're moving in the right direction. The dog has even forgiven me for leaving her to suffer two long months with my doting parents and their happy two dogs. She's slowly recovering from the horrors of having to cuddle with them every morning and play ball on the grass field across the street every day. She's also off the Prozac!

I went up to Michigan with my dad this past weekend. I'd like to tell you how wonderful it was, but the truth is I don't remember half of it. The flight up was pretty- we flew by a full rainbow and over the beautiful fall colors of Manistee National Forest.

Once we got to Beaver Island, we enjoyed a really good lunch at the meeting hall where the local restaurants were selling their best meals. Mmm- ribs, enchiladas, red cabbage, and pumpkin cake washed down with freshly pressed apple cider! Leaving the hall overlooking St. James Bay, we walked down to the old dusty truck in the parking lot. Most of the roads on B.I. appear to be unpaved, so dust is everywhere and nobody seems to mind.

The road to the cabin is bumpy and littered with apples. Apple trees grow wild up there, and it's apparently peak season. We collected a huge tub of fresh red apples (Mom made them into apple sauce and apple crisps). The whole trip was a quintessentially American fall scene.

As we pulled up to the cabin, I was struck by the utter silence and crisp, fresh air. I could have stood there for hours letting the nothingness soak into my bones. Instead, we checked everything out and headed inside. I promptly fell asleep on the couch with the fire going and music quietly playing. When Dad got back from fishing, we both went out for a quick evening trip around our end of the lake, complete with moonrise!

We pulled up to the cabin at dusk and tied up the dingy before heading inside. As Dad studied, I fell asleep again reading on the couch. Do you notice a pattern here?

Have no fear- I also slept soundly all night. Aside from a bird flying into a window at some point, the night was dark and silent. Perfect. We got up early to go fishing, small rain showers keeping us company. I got a couple nibbles (I even saw one of them- a large mouth bass!), but didn't actually catch any of them. Next time.

We sat through two small rain episodes, but as the third one began we agreed that it was here to stay. We motored quietly back and then secured everything outside. Dad checked the weather while I tried to photograph the state forest across the lake through the binoculars:

Sadly we had to go back home that morning. I could stay up there for months, if not years! Good medicine.

Doing laundry today, I have to admit that I miss the clothesline strung across the AFM laundry room, weighted down with unclaimed socks.

I always had this image of them unclipping themselves, jumping down, and walking out of the room. They'd parade out into the hallway, past the internet cafe, down the stairs, and all settle in for some coffee and tea at the tables across from Starbucks.

Oh come on, don't tell me you never thought about it too :)

...she said into the black internet abyss...

Last night at about ten, somebody from Scottsdale, Arizona, checked my blog. I'm fascinated and honored to report that they were the ten thousandth visitor to this blog (since I started with the site meter anyway).

Thanks for reading guys!

Home again, home again, jiggidy jig!

As many of you may know by now, I finished my time on the Africa Mercy a bit early and headed to Indiana to spend some time with my family and Gazza (Peleke doesn't return for a bit). I'd been entertaining the thought for a while after being sick for so long, but it hadn't been the right time. Only after a lot of thoughts, prayers, and conversations last weekend did I find the peace to make the decision to come home. God blessed me overwhelmingly with Mercy Ships, and there are things about my experience I'll never be able to convey. The experience isn't quite what I had in mind, but some of it was and I gained more than I could have imagined professionally, socially, and spiritually.

I really hope I can return to the Africa Mercy at another time. I know the vast majority of my friends won't be there (indeed, most of them left this week with me), but I also know how unique that community is- it lends itself well to making friends. The first group will always have a special place in my heart. I miss you all immensely! So we'll see what God has planned.

I'll continue writing about the experience in the weeks to come (this time with more pictures), but for the moment, posts may be slow in coming. This cough has been going on for over two months and I'm pretty worn out. My main focus is enjoying my family and reconnecting with The Beast. The food, rest, and showers are pretty great, too, but the fall weather is awesome. Trees are turning colors and the days are cool and clear- a far cry from hot, humid, dirty Cotonou!