Happiness. It's relative.
He drove up just as we were starting lunch at the picnic table under the trees at the boat launch. A black Dodge Ram truck with a squat camper like all the autoworkers used to have in Flint, pulling a flat bed trailer with… Continue Reading “The Man at the Boat Launch”
I am wearing what may be the homeliest sweater in the world. It has a collar and a zipper and a Nordic cross-stitch pattern. It’s also made out of that velour type fabric, neither fish nor fowl, a pretend real sweater. I bought it… Continue Reading “Unadorned”
At first the lake was perfectly still, a set for a canoeing commercial, and we glided along like people who lived in a tent most of the time and traveled on foot instead of who we are, people who live in a house and… Continue Reading “Our Pure Michigan”
We are driving down Old Seney Road, a shortcut between Lake Nawakwa and H-58 which will take us back to our house on Lake Superior. We have been canoeing on Lake Nawakwa, a very big lake with almost no houses on it, deep with… Continue Reading “The Perfect Paddle and the Perfect Tree”
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