Day 3 of the Michigan Mitten Tour

Tornados followed us out of southern Michigan but we were unaware until a friend checked in to see how we were.

We were, at least momentarily, carefree.

This morning I nudged open the shade on the long window on my side of the bed. The wind blew hard while the sun came up, leaves shaking and branches waving. Barn swallows darted everywhere, their choreography perfect and unknowable. The clouds, in little puffs blown inland by Huron’s brisk wind, blended and shifted, stories started and reimagined. The sky was the bluest blue. And so I watched in my half sleep, not remembering another time when I’d relinquished all worries and things to watch the sky. There is no photo. How could there be?

Driving up Route 23, we came upon this sign on a sugar factory in a town that time forgot. There are a lot of those in northwest Michigan. I had to take a picture. And a picture of my beloved traveling companions.

Good night, all.