As soon as I saw this guy, I knew I had to get a photo. He was in a nice isolated spot, so I got my camera ready and…whoops, he was on the move. Apologies to the other people in the photo who shall remain nameless because I have no idea who they are.

What would it be like to be so free as to feel unselfconscious about wearing this kind of spectacular getup? The guy had style and he knew it. He walked with confidence. I rather admired the fellow; his clothing and bearing attracted attention and he received it as his due.

I think I was in junior high school before it slowly dawned on me that there was such a thing as style and that I clearly didn’t have it. At that age, however, you don’t want to stick out, you want to blend in, like style in reverse. Bell bottoms had emerged onto the fashion scene as a scourge and a blight, but since everyone else had them, they appeared as shining lights of acceptance and popularity to me. My parents weren’t keen on spending money on clothes I didn’t really need (kudos to them in retrospect), so I saved up my babysitting money and bought my first set of bell bottoms: navy blue and white paisley, as I recall. Finally – I could hold my head up high among my peers!

Well, not so fast. The first washing shrunk them and the next thing I knew, someone was calling out loudly in the hallway, “Look at that girl wearing the high-water pants!” Wondering what high-water pants were, I turned around to see who they were pointing at and with great embarrassment realized it was me. Kids are cruel, aren’t they? It all added up on the building-character side of the ledger for me as I learned the folly of trying to fit in when the rules were always changing.

I still like to fit in, mostly – I’m not much of a trend setter in the fashion realm (or any other realm). But I’d like to think that having style transcends the world of clothing. Maybe it has more to do with being comfortable and confident with who you are and being able to wear that.

“God sees not as a man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

We had a goal of finishing off the hikes along the north shore of Lake Superior on this trip: 4 hikes in 3 days, and a few waysides if we had time on the way back. Temperance River State Park was on our way up to Grand Marais and would be first, a nice way to ease in to hiking again with a 1.9 mile hike. We arrived around 2:30 p.m. and couldn’t have picked a nicer day to inaugurate the weekend: 68 degrees, fluffy clouds, blue skies. Let’s do it!

It was fairly crowded at the park, a repeated theme at each park we went to. It turns out everybody else thought Labor Day weekend was a good weekend for hiking, too. I felt somewhat self-conscious with my trekking poles, to be honest. The initial path was smooth and level asphalt and it felt a little bit like overkill. Not long into the hike, however, we passed an older couple (older than us, that is) going the other way and the wife was also using trekking poles. “A fellow hiking pole user!” I hailed her enthusiastically. In retrospect, that was probably kind of odd. They were good natured about my outburst and we exchanged a few words of encouragement about the importance of saving our knees.

The trail description promised views of Hidden Falls along the river gorge, some rugged and difficult terrain, and at the far end of the trail, the Upper Falls. If you like waterfalls, get yourself on up here. They’re a dime a dozen at these parks, as you will see.

When we got to the river gorge, we spotted the so-called “Hidden Falls,” right away. Waterfalls make so much noise, there’s not much chance of them going unnoticed. The river rushed through narrow rock passages creating large bowl-like openings from cavitation.

It’s always mesmerizing to watch and listen to water in powerful motion.

I try to balance what I “see” with my camera on these hikes, getting the close-ups that grab my attention, as well as pulling back to get the big picture.

At the midway point, we stopped to rest on a convenient log, ate our Clif bars and then I placed our first painted rock on the log before we left. I brought four of these on our trip, gifts from my friend Sue, and decided to place one near the password sign at each park (which is usually about halfway through the hike). This one said, “Sometimes you need to let things go. Forgive 2020.” It’s nice to think of someone finding it and taking the message to heart.

The Upper Falls were all that they were described to be: higher up on the trail, and the sight of water falling. Can’t ask for more than that, right? We stayed for a short time to enjoy the falls on this glorious day and then headed back down the trail.

Many trails up here intersect or coincide with the Superior Hiking Trail, so we saw plenty of signs like this:

Am I the only one who thinks that’s an unfortunate acronym?

Ode to Temperance River State Park
The beautiful Temperance River
The dangerous Temperance Gorge
The waterfalls did deliver,
The river, we did not forge.

We walked the path as bidden
(One of us using poles),
Found falls that were not hidden
And met our hiking goals.

A rock now sits near a sign
Proclaiming to all who pass by
“Let it go, forgive” – unbind –
Before day’s end draws nigh.

We stopped a lot so it took us nearly an hour and 45 minutes to finish the hike, but it’s not about the time, it’s about the journey – at least that’s what I tell myself. Next stop: Grand Marais, our “base” from which we’d do the other three hikes. As an aside, we spent our honeymoon in Grand Marais 35 years ago!

Knee Score: 3-4. Short hike, not too much up and down. The hiking poles helped. I think it would have been a solid 5 if not for using them.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless I hear from at least one person begging me not to. This is kind of like saving Tinkerbell by clapping. Minimal effort, maximum payoff.

P.S. a big thank you to my brother-in-law Karl for doing the photo editing on the state park signs for this group of hikes.

Next Hike: Grand Portage State Park

A lonely seagull on a rock
Ponders, but he does not talk.
Worries about the soaring hawk,
Wonders as he takes his walk.
Would he be safer on the dock?
Feathers ruffled, knees that knock
Beak agape and eyes that mock,
He seeks a cage that has a lock,
Frets and turns, nervous “awk,”
Hopes the predator will not stalk
A lonely seagull on a rock.

I took about umpty billion photos of that seagull. You may be seeing more of him (her?).

I’ll probably delete this over the weekend and then keep posting other photos of the same gull from different angles with different poems using different rhymes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Somewhere in the distance,
Light has divided the water and the blue-gray hills –
A bright line straight and true,
Dividing light from darkness
Just like in the beginning of beginnings.
Is the Spirit of God hovering over the face of the waters?
Listen to the waves,
Listen to the waves.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

For those of you who have been to Lake Superior and miss it.

For those who have never been, but would like to go someday.

For those who have been to the ocean and wonder what all the fuss is about our freshwater “ocean” in Minnesota.

For those who have heard Gordon Lightfoot’s song about the Edmund Fitzgerald, when the gales of November came early. (There were predicted gales when we were there, but we never saw ’em.)

For those who love the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.

For those who know this:

Mightier than the thunders of many waters,
mightier than the waves of the sea,
the LORD on high is mighty! – Psalm 93:4

Hallelujah!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

My husband and I just did another Labor Day Weekend hiking extravaganza. Four parks in three days (plus two short bonus hikes at waysides on our way home), over 10 miles of hiking, climbing the equivalent of about 131 flights of stairs, and taking about umpty billion photos. I’ll be rolling out the blog posts about each of these hikes in the next couple of weeks, so stay tuned.

When we started this hiking adventure on July 4, 2018, it seemed very theoretical that we might actually visit and hike all 68 of Minnesota’s state parks. We just went to our 28th park and have hiked 80.4 miles (out of 197 miles total). But the hikes themselves haven’t been nearly as important as the company we’ve kept. I can’t imagine having a better hiking partner than my husband. He encourages me along the way, and makes me laugh with his witty observations. After 35 years we still enjoy each other’s company.

When I put that photo on this post, I had planned to write something about reflections, but instead ended up writing reflections on our hikes together. This is my lazy way of making the photo fit the post so I don’t have to pick out another one. There you have it!

I’ll probably reflect on deleting this post in the morning.

My parents grew up in Duluth, so we often went there for visits during the summer and I could just as often be found on the shore of Lake Superior looking for agates. In fact, the others in our family would frequently get exasperated with me because it was so hard to drag me away.

We just got back from a trip up to Grand Marais and although I didn’t do a lot of looking for agates this time, I still enjoyed playing with rocks one evening. We stayed until the sun started to set.

One of life’s simple pleasures.

I’ll probably, but not definitely, delete this in the morning. Yawn.

I saw this the other morning and stopped in my tracks. The sun coming in behind Running Man made for a good photo subject. He actually looks like Exulting Man even more than Running Man. It’s as if the sun coming up arouses him to praise the sun’s Maker. But then that’s just me, being fanciful as usual.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

We had friends from Indiana visiting here last weekend and I received a gift of some painted rocks from one of my bosom buddies. I love them! She advised that most of these can be left around town, but two of them she painted especially for me, so those will stay here.

Have you heard about the painted rock trend? Of course you have! I’m usually the last one to notice or find out about something, but just in case there are one or two of you even further behind than I am on the cultural trends, here’s the scoop:

Rock painting “hide and seek” started in 2016 in Albany, Georgia, and has spread from there. It’s pretty simple: paint a rock and leave it somewhere where it can be seen so that others can enjoy it, keep it or re-hide it. There are many groups on Facebook that represent a certain city or region. If you’re interested, you can start out on FB with a search of “(Your City or County) Rocks.”

We actually had noticed some painted rocks in our neighborhood over the last 6 months and I thought it was delightful. I just didn’t realize that it was a Thing. Some people just call it “Painted Rocks.” Other names for it are “Kindness Rocks,” “Traveling Rocks,” and “Rocks of Love.”

National parks and monuments won’t let you leave them there, but I’ve seen them sometimes in our state parks. Use non-toxic paints and make sure you put a sealer coat on the rocks so the paint doesn’t chip off or get ruined out in the elements.

You can write something on the back like “Keep or re-hide.” If you belong to a rock group, you can label it “mark me found in “(Your City) Rocks” on FB.

I plan to bring a few of mine on our next hikes so I can share the love.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Previous: Grave Musings 7 Epitaphs

I went back to Mantorville recently to have lunch with another friend – it’s my new favorite meeting ground. This time I looked up the local cemetery location and after we finished our lunch, off we went. I’ve noticed that quite a few cemeteries have the same kind of sign over the entrance. I approve.

It’s an old cemetery with many monuments and interesting stones, so I had an immediate sense of kinship with the place upon getting out of the car. There was a lovely little tower next to a shed right in the middle – probably a little water tower that services just the cemetery. Someone was working the grounds while we were there, but I refrained from taking his photo. I like to think that someone who does the groundskeeping at a cemetery appreciates the somewhat “holy” ground upon which they tread.

We were surrounded and watched over by majestic old trees. In futility I took a photo looking up the trunk of one of these stalwarts, but I knew it wouldn’t tell the whole story.

There were a whole host of these – perfect climbing trees if you are of the age and agility to be able to do so. We were not, but mused upon the days when we used to do such things, although I was never one to clamber up to the top, due to fear of heights. Lower limbs were the ticket for me.

One of the first monuments that struck us was a large one for a young child. There were many details lovingly placed in memory of this son, Lukas, who was missed so much by his family. Our mother’s hearts were touched by this display and we stopped to ponder and grieve over this little one whom we did not know.

Across the way, we saw this interesting monument next to a large flat stone that seemed to be some sort of vault but which had no markings. Perhaps my fellow cemetery enthusiasts (Teresa and Lori) will be able to give some insight on this:

Someone put a metal painted flag in the crook of an old tree and it was crying out to be photographed, so I obliged. It was painted on both sides, the other side being solid red.

From there we came across a marker for a single mother of two children, who appeared to have taken her own life. There were some plastic bracelets with a 1-800 number for what we guessed was a suicide hotline. It’s hard to imagine the heart-wrenching pain associated with that kind of death. Loved ones left behind created a place to grieve, to remember and to try and help others in despair.

Everywhere you look in a cemetery, you see the efforts of those who lost loved ones and don’t want their names and lives to be forgotten. In older times, these monuments had many symbolic details and in our modern times, the details are sometimes more whimsical or artistic and evocative of the life that was lived.

I love the simple farm life represented on that last stone. What a beautiful way to remember the Paulsons, whoever they are.

We noticed a large grassy field in the distance with very few grave markers that was bordered by a stately column of trees. We meandered over there for a while and talked about people we’ve known who have died and where we would be buried when it’s our turn. My friend already knew where she and her husband would be planted, but even with my love of cemeteries, I have given surprisingly little thought to our resting place. Something to ponder, I guess.

Moving back toward our cars, I saw a couple “Bartholomew” markers. That was my maiden name, so I wondered if these could be distant relatives. My mom did quite a bit of genealogical research back in the day and I think if we’d had relatives in this area, I would have known about it.

One of the last markers that I saw gave me pause. The epitaph was so interesting and enigmatic.

This must have been Sally’s motto: “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken.” She either said it a lot or at least exemplified it in her life. What do you think it means? Is that a motto that resonates with you? Was she talking about physical weakness? Moral weakness? Emotional weakness? I keep thinking about what the apostle Paul said about weakness:

“But God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things that are strong…”
and
“[God’s] grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

There’s a lot to think about when you roam through a cemetery. Grave musings, indeed.

Next: Grave Musings 9 Chasing the Sea Wing

Start at beginning: Grave Musings 1 Maple Lawn I

I’ll probably delete this in the morning while pondering where my husband and I should be buried. 🤔

I read a book a few years ago by a man who decided he wanted to get better at sketching so he did a simple sketch every day from his ordinary life. It was interesting seeing how he progressed and improved in this as he practiced consistently. He was never going to be an excellent artist, but that wasn’t his goal.

This has been a theme of mine on this blog: consistent and regular practice brings greater skill and confidence to the undertaking. Also, there’s a value inherent in the act of persevering, even if the level of skill reached is only mediocre. In fact, this is why I’m still writing a blog post every day, Monday through Friday. It’s the one daily undertaking of 2020 that I’ve been able to keep up with, the daily walks and photographs having fallen slightly by the wayside.

I’m somewhat intrigued with the idea of doing a daily sketch. I tossed off a quick one last night to insert into a letter to a young friend.

The more I think about the idea of doing this while being released from the expectation of “great art,” is really appealing.

Back when I was working on drawing animals I did a few quick sketches for fun.

These were admittedly a little more involved than the one of my feet above because I had actually taken the time to learn how to draw each of these animals with a lot of detail and from different photos just so I could learn the basics before doing the sketches of them. I discovered that there was a certain amount of muscle memory that developed with repetition.

I might give the daily sketch a try for awhile and see what comes of it. Notice that I’m not promising anything.

What would you like to learn how to do that might lend itself to daily practice? Piano? Memory work? Refinishing furniture? Gardening? Writing? I really want to know! Maybe we can encourage one another along the way.

I’ll probably sketch my deletion of this post in the morning.