Simplicity

Coming home from a great vacation is always hard. You just don't understand how on vacation you were content with three pairs of pants and five tops that you mixed and matched throughout the week. But when you get home and see your closet full of clothes you feel overwhelmed, and that you have nothing to wear. You long for that small pine armoire at the rental house that wasn't even a third full with your clothes. Or, at least that's what I long for.

I always come home from vacations, specifically, vacations from northern Michigan with a resolve to declutter and only keep things that bring me joy. Yes, I have read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and Spark Joy by Marie Kondo a few times.

Usually though, by the end of the first week home from vacation, that resolve has flown out the window. There are too many things on the daily to-do list and not enough time to do even half of them. With winter just around the corner here in Michigan, time seems shorter than ever. There is yard work to be completed before the snow flies, and some other big projects that need to be finished by the beginning of December.

Still, I am going to try to do some decluttering. One of the big projects is painting and organizing my soon-to-be reclaimed studio aka small spare bedroom. It has been apple green and lilac purple for 14 years, it needs to be simply white. Then, maybe I will use the room for more than storage.  Also, we are making Mallory's old bedroom into a guest room, so when she and Fin sleep over they don't have to sleep on a mattress on the floor. The good thing is, with both of these rooms, decluttering will happen because it has to.

Enough about the drudgery of being home. I will take you on a quick tour of the perfect autumn in Northern Michigan.

The weather certainly ran the gamut while we were there. We had temperatures in the upper 70's to daytime temps. of only 39 degrees. We had bright sun, fog, moody gray skies, and even some white snow/rain stuff.

We spent our mornings hiking. We revisited some favorite trails, and took a chance on a couple new-to-us ones. One of which has become my new favorite.

Usually lunch was at quaint local places.

Afternoons were spent at a couple wineries savoring a glass of wine and enjoying the view.

We only shot with the big cameras one morning because hiking in the woods is much easier with a pocket-size camera. Plus, Glen loves Instagram.  He has complete control when he shoots with his phone. Although, I end up in way more photos and stories that I would like.

It is so hard to leave this place. Maybe a pine armoire with three pairs of pants and five tops is a pretty good life.

Small Town Adventure - Bowling Green, Ohio

On a recent Friday morning, my husband called and said, "I have to be in Bowling Green, Ohio for a meeting Monday morning, do you want to come along?" Since his meeting was at 8:30 and Bowling Green is a good 3-1/2 hours from our house, he was planning to leave Sunday afternoon and stay overnight.

While he is asking me this question, I am lying on the couch on a bag of ice. I had tweaked a muscle in my back the day before, causing the whole right side of my body to feel like a pulled taut bungee cord. You would think my immediate answer would be, "I can't." But having been through this predicament before, generally a whole lot of ice and ibuprofen takes care of the problem in a couple of days. Since nothing was required of me but getting into the car on Sunday, I told him I would decide one way or the other Sunday morning.

Sunday morning while not perfect, I could sit with minimal discomfort. Googling Bowling Green, Ohio, an image search revealed: old buildings, a quaint-looking downtown, and some nature parks. Plenty to keep me busy on Monday.

At three o'clock Sunday afternoon, I climbed into the car, cranked the heated seat to high, and stretched out the best I could. Almost four hours later, we arrived at our hotel.

At dinner that night with one of my husband's coworkers and his wife, I posed the question - where would be some good places to go photograph? This can be a risky question to ask non-photographers. Chris suggested the Historical Center and Museum which was two stop signs down the road from our hotel. As soon as he said old buildings and cemetery, I knew that his suggestion could be taken seriously.

Shortly after eight o'clock Monday morning, I checked out of the hotel (Glen had already left with another colleague) and drove two stop signs down the road, crossed a country highway and found the Wood County Historical Center. Formerly, the Wood County Infirmary, i.e. county poor house. I was in heaven.

The Wood County Infirmary operated from 1869-1971. After 102 years of operation the Infirmary closed. It reopened in 1975 as a Museum. It was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1979.

The Infirmary Cemetery is the final resting place of over 400 Wood County residents. Not everybody buried here lived in the Infirmary. Residents too poor to afford burial in a public cemetery were also buried here. The county paid for a simple pine box and grave marker noted with a number. They do have records of who is buried here, but none that indict which number belongs to which name.

Two parks that I also visited while in Bowling Green were: Wintergarden Park and Simpson Garden Community Center. Both beautiful parks, but it was too hot and too sunny for any good photos. I am hoping to be invited back to Bowling Green so I can explore further.

The Hour of Homecoming

From the moment we came over the rise, on the roller coaster road that is M-109, in the heart of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, I knew I was home. Above us stretched a bright blue sky, on each side of us were sun-bleached sand dunes with tufts of beach grass sprouting from them, and ahead of us sat the most photogenic weathered white barn I had ever seen.  I wasn't a photographer then, just a snapshot taker. I didn't know anything about good light or bad light, composition, POV, the golden hour, ISO; it would be another fifteen years before those words would enter my vocabulary. I just knew I had to get out and take a picture with my pocket-size Fuji film camera.

I have lived in Michigan all my fifty years, never living farther than twenty miles from my childhood home. Somehow though,  I knew that this "up north" place, three hours from where I grew up, was where my heart lived. For twenty-five years I have been trying to figure out what it is about this place, why it captivates me so. With each return, I dig a little deeper into it and into myself.

Our family of three opinionated adults and one sassy golden retriever, just returned from a week of vacation in this place of homecoming.

Vacations tend to fall into one of two camps for me. Either they are vacations of adventure, where I have to figure the place out, consult maps, make wrong turns, get yelled at. Or they are vacations of discovery, where the place is already understood and instead I have time and space to explore who I am in it.

We tend to stay in the same small area every time we go up north, either nestled on the edge of a small lake, or the edge of a golf course. This time, our daughter, one of the opinionated adults, convinced us to try someplace new, father north than we usually stay, located in the middle of farm country, open fields on every side, a step out of our comfort zone. This put me farther from the places that I always photograph, favorite places, another step out of comfort.

Having learned the importance of the "golden hour", I was up before the sun every morning. The sassy golden retriever, hearing the creak of the wooden floorboards, joined me. I would put on my winter coat, my warm paisley rain boots, secure my headlamp to my head, and open the back door to the frozen landscape. We would crunch through the refrozen snow, climb the rise to the west of the house, and wander along the ridge line. He would pretend to track wild animals until he finally did his business. Then, we would turn back toward the warm glow of the house so he could eat and return to bed with my daughter. I would make tea in the white mug I had claimed for the week, write in my journal, then gather my camera gear that was waiting by the door, and head out into the predawn light to scrape the ice from the windows of my car.

To be continued...

Part Two of this will be next week. I have too much I want to say for one post, and too many photographs I want to share. Until then here is a short film of our first day of vacation, you can get a good sense of the farmhouse and area around it.


Leelanau - April 21, 2018 from Sarah Huizenga on Vimeo.

Pour Some Sugar On

This may be the one and only time you see me say I was hoping for snow this week. Especially, since it is March and everybody is ready to be done with winter, including me. But last week found me doing a run and gun through a favorite historic homestead and walking park, looking for my daily 365 photograph.  I had about an half hour to kill before I had to pick up Findley, so I thought I would do a quick walk through of the house and barn areas. That is when I saw the metal sap collection buckets. It had snowed with snow squall force that morning and the maple trees and buckets had a heavy blanket of white on them.

I grabbed my daily shot, but knew I wanted to come back when I had more time and my tripod. I also wanted to continue practicing my Compelling Frame photography course lessons.

I have become quite attached to my tripod. I know most of you photographers are saying, "But I hate carrying my tripod, I want to be free to move around." There is certainly truth to that, but I have learned that I also want to be free to slow down and improve my game. A tripod makes me slow down, and honestly my "vision" is so much better when I use it.

Monday morning I got my wish. It wasn't a heavy blanket of white, but it was enough to give a thin coating to the layers of fallen maple leaves, and provide the backdrop I needed for my adventure.

I grew up surrounded by maple trees. When my dad retired he decided to tap those trees and begin making maple syrup. As if his beekeeping hobby, and tenacity for cutting wood for his wood stove weren't enough to keep him busy already. He built his own sugar shack, and would be out there at all hours of the day and night boiling down that sap.

On the average it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of maple syrup. Interesting article on maple syrup making here. The average sap collection period can last anywhere from four to six weeks. There were abundant years and there were lean years, but as my dad approached his 70's, I think he had had enough of the lean years. He sold the equipment, and turned the Sugar Shack into another storage shed.

During January and our Whole 30 adventure, we had to give up ALL sugar. It is amazing when you start reading labels on the food at the grocery store how many items have sugar. Here we are mid-March and I still read labels. Now, if I purchase items with sugar, I try to make sure it is either organic cane sugar, or more preferably natural sugars like honey and maple syrup. Locally sourced natural sugars are the best, since my dad still keeps his bees I get my honey from him, and I buy my maple syrup at the farmers market.

I spent a satisfyingly slow hour photographing sap buckets, snowy trees, and the sugar shack. Before I returned to my car to warm up my frozen feet, I made a little detour down a snow covered wooden walkway.

My initial run and gun turned into a substantial exploration.  I throughly enjoy having my creative/adventure days early in the week.

In Other News...

My friend Cathy H. made a comment on my blog last week that resonated so deeply with me, "Sometimes I feel just holding the camera and pushing the shutter button brings me more joy than seeing the photo I took!"  I held that sentence in my heart this week. All it really takes is that first press to get rolling again, the results are not the important part. 

I returned to filming this past week, squeezing in moments when I could. Working on something a little outside my comfort zone, it won't be perfect the first time, but the learning and improving is in the doing.

The kitchen flooring has been ordered. We have found pendant lights for above the peninsula, and they have been ordered. Next step is to contact the electrician to install. More painting ahead this week, coating everything in lovely, neutral Alabaster.

I finished listening to A Gentleman in Moscow this week. I love listening to books while I am in the car and when walking. It is amazing how much you can listen to just running errands around town. I give the book 4-1/2 stars.

Instagram Meet Up

Photo Credit: Sleeping Bear Dunes NPS

Last Saturday, my daughter Mallory and I participated in our first Instagram Meet Up. I have been wanting to do one of these forever, so when the invitation popped up in my Instagram feed on Wednesday, I knew I had to go.

It didn't matter that the meet up was three hours away, what did matter was that the weather forecast called for 100% sunshine, even if the temperature was only going to be 37 degrees. I didn't have anything else I had to do that day, a rare thing for a Saturday. But most important, the meet up was happening in my favorite place on earth - Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

The appointed meeting place was the one room schoolhouse. Surprisingly, the schoolhouse is not owned by the National Park Service, it is still owned by the Glen Haven School District, so no inside tour.

We did get an inside tour of the Miller barn that was a short trip down the road. A lot of the wood needed for the restoration work on these old buildings is stored in a scattering of historic barns throughout the park.

From the barn we set off on a short hike to, as my daughter teased me "one of your favorite things". Mallory interned at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore a couple of summers ago, she knew where we were going, but wanted me to be surprised.

A small family cemetery located on the bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, too bad I am not a part of the Werner family, this is where I would like to be buried.

After the cemetery it was an uphill hike to a view from the top of a bluff. The day was crystal clear and we could see for miles.

Just an FYI, that is not Wisconsin in the background behind Mallory - that is North Manitou Island. Mallory and my husband have hiked/camped there on a few occasions and are planning a return trip.

It was a great day spent with my beautiful girl in my favorite place; throw in some history about the area and the Insta Meet was a success.

Traveling the Road of Curiosity

"Curiosity starts with the itch to explore"

                                 ~ Ian Leslie

I had already driven past the large wooden sign once. As I drove past, I could feel the strong tug of curiosity, I circled back. Now I was staring the sign in the face for the second time, and I was still prepared to turn my back on it and drive away.

"We spend our entire lives at the entrance of a cave, caught between the safety of the familiar and the yearning for novelty."

                                                                                ~ Ian Leslie 

 The sign pointed the way to The Kinzua Bridge State Park, four miles away. The yearning novelty of a bridge to photograph, or the safety of a paved, two lane highway headed towards my end destination, home. The yearning for discovery was very strong. What held yearning back was the fear of disappointment. More than once I have followed a sign that held the promise of great adventure or spectacular sights; a sweeping high bluff above a rocky shore, a lighthouse in the near distance or cascading wooden stairs going down to the perfect sandy beach. Instead I would find a playground filled with run-down playground equipment perched on a small spit of grass on top of the rocky bluff, no cascading wooden stairs to the sandy shore, only large amounts of trash stuck in every  crevice on the rocks below. I knew disappointment. 

Yearning speaks "They wouldn't name a State Park after a bridge if it wasn't something." Disappointment counters "It might just be a rickety wooden bridge in the middle of the forest, spanning a dried up creek." Yearning having grown tired of this internal debate, speaks loudly and clearly "TURN RIGHT". I began the four mile drive down the paved country road.

I had left my rental cabin early that morning. I had spent almost a week photographing blazing Pennsylvania fall foliage. It had been three hours since my departure from the cabin and I was ready to get out of the car for a while to stretch my legs, and satisfy my yearning for a photograph or two. I had already passed many splendid country landscapes dotted with the most eye-catching wooden structures that morning, but without the time or the space to pull my car to the side and get a few shots with my camera, yearning was restless.  

"Choosing to be curious is choosing to be vulnerable because it requires us to surrender to uncertainty."

                                                                              ~Brene Brown 

Once I reached the entrance to the state park, the fear of disappointment reared it's ugly head again. The entrance was a muddy, rutty gravel mess. What possible good could be down a road like this? As I neared the parking area, there was more mud, along with high metal construction fences, construction workers and no sign of this supposed bridge. It couldn't be that big or that exciting if I couldn't even see it. But, I was this far already, I might as well follow curiosity all the way to the end. 

Porta Potties that served as the restrooms lined one edge of the field. Sometimes you have to take what you can get, at least it wasn't a hot and humid day. Once safely out of the porta potties, I noticed the white paper signs taped to the high, metal construction fences - Bridge Skywalk - and an arrow pointing left.

I followed those white paper signs right to the most awe-inspiring sight...

The Kinzua Bridge was constructed by 125 men in a mere 94 days. The Kinzua Bridge was the longest, and tallest viaduct in the world when completed in 1882.

Standing 301 feet tall (24 feet higher than the Brooklyn Bridge) and 2,053 feet long, the span was billed as the "Eighth Wonder of the World".

On Monday, July 21, 2003, at approximately 3:15 p.m., a F1 tornado (wind speed 73-112 mph) struck the side of the Kinzua Viaduct. Eleven towers from the center of the bridge were torn from their concrete bases and thrown to the valley floor.

Today, park visitors can once again walk a portion of the Kinzua Bridge. Built on six restored, original towers, a pedestrian walkway (skywalk) leads to a 225-foot high observation deck that gives a towering view of the Kinzua Creek Valley. 

I am so glad that I chose to listen to the yearning voice of curiosity, that I chose to be vulnerable and risk disappointment. I know that there will still be times of disappointment when I chose to follow a large wooden sign, but there will also be times of unmeasurable joy.

Resources

Rising Strong - Brene Brown

Curious - The Desire to Know and Why Your Future Depends on It - Ian Leslie

Kinzua Bridge History