Vacation at Swan Lake

The absence of posts here thus far in October? The explanation is quite simple. We were on vacation at a place we learned to call Swan Lake. Goaded by habits I left here armed with all the necessary tools of blogging, not least a long list of passwords. We had two fully functional computers handy at this mysterious location, with Internet connections, printers, all the rest. I also took my camera—and, of course, its charger thing and cable. But then, as we fell under the spell of this place—beginning with shivery, foggy mornings but persisting until the reddening sunset—to our left as we looked from the high porch—all thought of writing anything at all, much less the efforts demanded by a blog post, vanished. Did not take a single picture. We watched, we talked, and we read. Therefore my only suitable picture is the one that follows…

…or perhaps this one here:

Both were taken at “Swan Lake,” to be sure, but while the first features Mute Swans, with yellow bills (they make no noise unless they’re flying), the second shows a somewhat rare descent on the lake of a clan of Trumpeter Swans (black bills and lots of noise). We saw swarms at least as big and bigger of the mutes every day, observed their daily routines and travels. And our two favorite herons, the occasional passage of honking geese, and, of course, the ducks… Fog, overcast skies, thunderstorms, rain, and the kind of October days so bright and lit we forgot how to spell Eden.

Now Swan Lake, it turns out, is but Wolverine Lake, about fifty miles from where we live, the place Monique and John call home. They were both off to the West Coast on a combination of work and a brief family visit. When Monique returned (she came first, different flights) all charged up with the wonders of California, the coastal drive north, and the beauties of Oregon, Brigitte and I, still entranced with our experiences of the Lake, were, as it were mute swans and barely able to say that what the Pacific Coast had been for our children was Magical Michigan for the two of us. And great experience! Life first! Blobbing is a very distant second.

Tiki Night 2012

The photography failed me, but our Luck once more triumphed. This was the thirteenth repetition of Tiki Night at Wolverine Lake, MI. Last year I noted that we had never once been rained out. This morning we rose to the sounds of a thunderstorm. In fact I’d left a clipboard full of notes and my coffee cup out overnight, and my first act of the day was to fetch both under an umbrella, but the rain came so heavily, I got wet anyway. The notes were completely obliterated—the reward of my stubborn persistence to write on paper with an ink pen. The coffee cup, made of sterner stuff, survived. Sporadically storms overflew us and bombed us with rain or hail. In the afternoon, briefly, we saw a little weak sunshine, but the clouds moved massively in again.

Host and hostess, John and Monique, told us by phone that it looked iffy, but keep our fingers crossed. We set out for the trip late in the afternoon. Sure enough, half of that one-hour trip took place with the wipers set to maximum, and Brigitte quite rightly agitated: she had the wheel but the lanes had disappeared. But then came lighter skies, lots of spray, and even a glimpse of blue in the sky.

But, as I say, we were once more lucky. By the time the sun began to set, the sky was blue, the lake festively lit with tiki flames. All manner of decorated boats cruised slowly, displaying themselves. And the fireworks, by far the most spectacular yet, again left us entranced.

I suppose it was my day-long anxiety—or the happy memory of a festive meal eaten while the children played with sparklers in anticipation of the bursts of lights—in any case my photographic skills deserted me this night. The best I could salvage I am also showing. As always, a day to treasure and remember. Around this household the actual 4th is mostly a day of recovery. The date and time stamps of this post approximate when the event took place.

Tiki Night 2011

The date and time of this post exactly match the time when these pictures were taken at Wolverine Lake, Michigan, the occasion being Tiki Night, always held on July 3. Looking back more than a decade now, we note with gratitude that the weather has always been perfect! Tradition, tradition! Thank you, again, Magees! Your hospitality, community spirit! Splendid! They light up the summer. And note in low voice that, for them, Tiki Night means mountains and mountains of Tiki Work in advance and in arrears...

State of the Village

Our own John Magee, who is president of the village council of Wolverine Lake, MI, provides a summary of his State of the Village presentation to the community on his website, here. Wolverine Lake is a small community of 4,415 people (2000 Census) on the western edge of the Detroit Metro area. It is a lake community. The population described in other ways is 1,671 households and 1,253 families. The report is well-worth reading in order to get a feel for what governance means at this you might say cellular level of American life. Things are quite complex. As members of the family, we know a lot of details hidden behind the points John makes, and every time we hear about them, the same thought occurs to me: Nothing’s simple, and the world’s complexity is all there at the lowest levels. The work that goes into being the president of a village council is enormous—and compensated with the great Nada. It’s a labor of love. This month’s theme on this blog is the search for sanity, and John's report is a worthy contribution to that search!

Tiki-Night and Fireworks at Wolverine Lake

Our traditional Independence Day celebration always takes place at Wolverine Lake, on the West Side of our metro area, where Monique and John host Tiki-Night and the fire works are brought to us on July the third by the Lake Wolverine community. We’ve had extraordinarily good fortune with the weather going back a decade now. It has never been cloudy; it has never rained; touch wood. Pictures courtesy of my humble little Kodak camera; it is just about to turn one year old. What picture can’t you take, little Kodak?