Monthly Archives: October 2014

Looking For It

I have been looking for something. I have checked the cupboards, the fridge, and the freezer. I have picked up books, read a few lines and put them down. I have sorted through old photos and trinkets. I have taken rides in the boat, in the car, and through the woods on the golf cart. I have walked the farm, only to find that my favorite places to sit and ponder have long since become overgrown. I have spoken with friends and trusted advisors, and still I cannot find it!

What ‘it’ is, is somewhat unclear. When I take stock of my life, I find that I have been a hard worker, I have tried to always do my best and to live right, I experience happiness and joy nearly every day, I am surrounded by the beauty of nature that nourishes my soul, I have loved and been loved, and I am blessed to have many good friends. Most days I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. So what is ‘it’, then, that eludes me?

The ‘it’ has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. It has made me a lifelong seeker of what is meaningful and true. Sometimes it slumbers contentedly in the background, but other times, it is like the incessant whine of a mosquito hovering about my ears. At first, a mosquito is just a minor annoyance, but the longer it lingers without capture, the sound becomes intolerable. The latter is what I have been feeling for the last few weeks.

Looking back I can see clearly that ‘it’ was awakened when the Amish grocery store burned down and was, subsequently, compounded by the near miss I had on the highway the following week. My first response was to ignore the slight niggling in my mind. Sometimes this works, but the technique is most often like waving away the pesky mosquito. It keeps it at bay for a moment, but it always comes back. Next, I buried myself in projects, moving erratically from one thing to the next. Again, as with a mosquito, it does not matter how quickly or what direction one moves. Once the mosquito picks a target it does not give up until it is sated.

Thus, I have chosen to surrender. I will cease the endless searching, and I will sit quietly and let ‘it’ come to me. I will abide mosquito one last time. After all, even a mosquito is quiet while it is filling its void.

————————————————————————————

For more of Gail’s photos, please consider:  http://www.lakehousephoto.com/

Thanks to Carmel Steffen for Editorial Assistance

© Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Spring Is On Its Way!

Spring is on its way!!! I received the first indication of spring on December 23 and another today. How could this be you might ask? Wasn’t winter solstice just a few short days ago? And on the first full day of winter was there not a major ice storm here in Michigan that left thousands without power for nearly a week? And the following evening was there not a storm that deposited up to 18 inches of new snow in the community where I live? And was it not Christmas just yesterday? Well, of course, winter has only just begun. But I have seen the sign! Spring is, indeed, on its way!

I am often amazed by the calm that is present after a storm. The day after the ice storm was no exception. The sun was shining brightly, as if it had no regard for the previous day’s devastation. No, in fact, it quite literally shed new light upon the situation. As I traveled Interstate 96 from Muskegon to Lansing, I was completely mesmerized by the way the thick layer of ice on the trees, shrubs, and fences glistened. It was pure magic! My heart soared, as mile after mile I drove through the enchanted countryside.

The return trip later that day was not the same. The clouds drifted in and light snow began to fall. I kept hoping the clouds would disappear, that I might once again experience the splendor of ice and sun. Instead the snow grew heavier, traffic slowed, and the normal two hour drive expanded to over three. The snow no longer drifted lightly in flakes from above, but rather, rained down in thick chunks. Driving lanes were difficult to distinguish, and the red tail lights of other vehicles, invisible until within bumping distance. When I arrived home, I stopped at the end of my driveway to pick up my mail. Though I knew it was deep, it was still a surprise when I stepped into nine inches of freshly fallen snow.

Once inside my home, I obsessively watched as the snow continued to fall and pondered the massive task of snow removal that would await me in the morning. Finally, I concluded that watching the snow would not change it or stop it, and I reluctantly retreated to the dining room table where I left the mail. This is where I received my first sign of spring. It is what brings many of us sunshine on the seemingly endless cold dreary days of winter. It catapults us into thoughts of thewarming spring and long luxuriant days of summer. It provides countless hours of pleasurable hopes and dreams for the coming year.

So, what is the first sign of spring? It is the delivery of the Gurney Seed Catalog! Followed, of course, by Henry Fields, Burpee, and, no doubt, Jung’s will come any day now. It is with the arrival of the seed catalogs that I know in my heart the commitment that I made to myself to never grow a vegetable garden again will wane. I know that I will soon be pouring over the pages of the catalogs. I will enjoy looking at all the new items that promise bigger, better, and tastier yields. Though, I will just as likely, order the same old reliable seeds I have for years. I will dream about a new ornamental for the backyard, and how it might draw in more butterflies and birds. I will plot my garden, row by row, seed by seed. I will remember the smell and texture of the soil, the sun upon my back, and the taste of home grown vegetables. And, I will escape winter for a little while, if only in my mind.

———————————————————————

For more of Gail’s photos, please consider:  http://www.lakehousephoto.com/

Thanks to Carmel Steffen for always checking my grammar so I look smarter than I am.

© Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Turtle, Turtle

I can hear the distant rumble of thunder from a storm making its way across Lake Michigan. It will be here soon enough but for now I will enjoy sitting on the back porch for whatever remains of the sun and warm breeze. With as lovely as it is right now it is near impossible to believe that the skies will soon darken and rain begin to fall. Even the birds at the feeder seem to be in denial of the upcoming storm. The Indigo Bunting sings sweetly, the Orioles are taking turns sipping nectar from the feeder, and the Red-Winged Black Birds continue to disturb and disrupt as much of the peace as possible.

As I listen to the thunder I think about Snapping Turtles. I am in awe of the primal instinct that is triggered during thunderstorms that compels the normally shy creature (female) to leave the security of the lake to find the perfect spot to lay its eggs. Another less awestruck part of me thinks about the damage to my lawn, the money that Muskegon County, the State of Michigan, and the turtle people spent to erect a fence along 2 miles of US 131 to keep the turtles safe from vehicles, all the baby birds I will meet this year yet not watch grow to adulthood, and lastly turtle soup.

In the morning, I fully expect to find one or more Snapping Turtles digging holes in the soft parts of my lawn to deposit eggs. Often they dig several holes, but only lay eggs in one hoping to confuse predators such as raccoons or skunks. The trickery seldom works.  Frequently I find the nests reopened and surrounded by what is left of the fragile white shells curled and drying in the sun. Perhaps I should feel more saddened about the unborn turtles.  But in truth, this sadness is fleeting when compared to how I feel when a Swan cygnet disappears, or when the last of the goslings are gone.

Against all odds, a few must survive as there is no shortage of Snapping Turtles at the Lakehouse. I occasionally see them submerged in shallow water or the tip of their nose as they break the surface of the water for a breath air. There are rumors that a frighteningly enormous Snapping Turtle lives in the lake. An average Snapping Turtle has a shell a little larger than a dinner plate or nine inch diameter and weighs about ten pounds. Table Top, as he is appropriately named. is no friendly quarter sized dime store turtle. His shell is at least 36 inches in diameter (a medium sized coffee table), his legs the size of small tree trunks and his weight unfathomable. I have not seen him personally, but have heard enough similar accounts to believe that he exists.

Mostly I know that there are an abundant number of Snapping Turtles not because I see them, but because of what I do not see. Each year flocks of Canada Geese nest at the Lakehouse. They sneak to the birdfeeder while the Sandhill Cranes are not watching and eat the fallen seed. When the Goslings are born they to come to the feeder. They are yellow, cute, so very silly, and so much fun to watch! But as the days go on fewer and fewer come to the feeder and finally I notice that for the most part the geese are gone completely. The same thing happens to the swan cygnets, loon chicks, and occasionally Sandhill Crane Colt. Sadly in the eight years I have lived here I have never seen a gosling or a cygnet live to adulthood. The small awkward swimming birds are easy prey for the turtles.

Although I am saddened every time one of the small birds disappears, I do understand that this is the way nature works. Despite its short life each has served its purpose. I am reminded of an old Native American story I heard years ago. There was once a mouse that lived in fields of tall grass and tunnels below the earth. The mouse wondered what lies beyond the grass where the bright light shone down upon him. He wondered what creatures made the sounds he knows to hide from. He wondered if he will ever know anything other than the tall grass and the tunnels he travels each day. But he understands that he must live exactly where he is and declares, “I am mouse”. One day while he was foraging for food he heard a terrifying shriek right above him. Talons with sharp claws grasped the mouse and raised him into sky. Later when he awakens he feels the wind beneath his wings and sees with clarity all that lives below and declares, “I am Eagle”.  Though the imagery of becoming Snapping Turtle is much less romantic than becoming Eagle, it is none-the-less the same concept. Somehow it gives me comfort.

The sky is darkening now and it is time to go inside. As I do, I feel blessed to live in a sanctuary that allows me observe, learn and grow. In this moment I realize that the holes in the lawn heal themselves, that the turtle fence may actually prevent accidents, or save the lives of other animals looking for an easy meal, and that the babies do live on in a different form.

I do, however, still think about Turtle Soup!

For more of Gail’s photos consider:  http://www.lakehousephoto.com/

————————————————————————————————–

© Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Gail Howarth and Living At The Lakehouse with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

error: Content is protected !!