I have a little bit of an addiction to stickers. It all started when a relative sent our oldest son some Mrs. Goodman stickers along with his gift for his second birthday. I was stunned at how detailed and beautiful they were. I appropriated a few for myself, rationalizing it by determining he was too young to appreciate and use them.

Around the same time, I began making photo albums, one for each year in our family life. Stickers and scrapbooking were a fruitful combination, and Mrs. Goodman began churning out lots more excellent stickers for people like me. I had to remind myself that the main feature of the photo albums should be the actual photos, not the little decorations I stuck on the pages.

I discovered that another great way to use stickers was to put them in my journals, to mark the beginning of each new entry. Or to pop them onto stationery and/or envelopes when writing to others.

But Mrs. Goodman – and eventually Creative Memories – spoiled me. I became a sticker snob. I’d go to craft stores and look over their selection, but find very few that really hit the spot for me. And kiddie stickers (i.e. hearts, puppies, kittens and Disney) are So Tedious As To Be Offensive: STATBO, for short – a handy acronym that my husband and I made up. You’d be surprised at how often it applies. I give you permission to use it.

I’m not making photo albums anymore, but I still hunger for beautiful and unique stickers to use in my journals and in correspondence. Somehow, Instagram knew this (is there a conspiracy theory in there somewhere?) and began placing ads in my feed for a sticker company. I meandered over to their website and was smitten. I held out for awhile but finally placed an order. It came from overseas, so the wait was long, but today, that wonderful package arrived.

Aren’t those fabulous???!!

Well, now you know my guilty secret. Let me know if you want me to write you a letter just so you can get one of these beauties as part of it. If you know me at all, you know I’ll make good on that promise!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning if I can manage to suppress my excitement about these stickers long enough to focus on that.

Grand Portage hosts two waterfalls, a ridge top overlooking Lake Superior, and the Pigeon River Valley, which is part of the international boundary line between the U.S. and Canada. The main attraction is High Falls, which is the tallest waterfall in Minnesota with a drop of 120 feet.

This was the day we were going to do two hikes, so we wanted to pace ourselves by starting with the “easier” 1-mile hike. One mile seems hardly worth bothering about, but we’ve done enough of these now to know that the distance can be deceiving. A one-mile hike uphill may be considerably more difficult than a 3-mile level hike.

We arrived around 10:45 a.m. on another nice day – 65 degrees, which is beautiful hiking weather. We missed the sign on the way in and thinking there wasn’t one (Tettegouche didn’t have one, after all), we decided to pose in front of the Welcome Center sign.

While waiting for Kris to use the facilities, I occupied myself with taking photos to make it seem like I wasn’t overhearing a conversation taking place in the parking lot. I couldn’t see the participants, but it was a stern fatherly lecture, the kind given by parents all the world over since time and sin began. “You just did the very thing that I asked you not to do. How can we trust you when you behave like that?” And so on. I’ve been on both sides of that one and sympathized.

There was a nice overlook at the beginning of the hike and we took several bad photos of ourselves there – backlit. But at least you can see the scenery, which is the best part anyway.

We headed out on the short trail and immediately encountered this sign, which seemed the height of absurdity in an increasingly absurd world. Your tax dollars at work!

The trail started off as asphalt, which is fairly common, and then became a nice dirt path with the ubiquitous tree roots charmingly placed. I had been concerned that going to something called “High Falls,” was going to require a lot of uphill climbing, but apparently we’d started off on high ground and didn’t have much further to go. Yea!

The falls were beautiful, of course. It’s impossible to have ugly waterfalls, right?

The password sign was right at the lookout station, so I quickly placed my next painted rock while we were still alone there. Another group came right away and to my delight, I heard one of the guys say, “Look, someone left a rock here!” Tee hee! This was the “love” rock.

It was getting crowded, so we left for the short walk back and saw more signs that fall is on the way.

We finished the hike in just under an hour, got another photo of us in front of one of the beautiful signs by the welcome center and then discovered the other park sign on our way out. So much of us! 🙂

We stopped by the Grand Portage National Monument on our way down to the next state park because we also have a National Parks and Monuments Passport book that needed stamping. We’d taken our kids here some years ago (maybe 15?). It’s one of those places where the people who work the exhibits assume the persona of people who lived during that particular historical time. I took a few photos and we wandered a bit and then left for Judge C.R. Magney State Park.

Knee Score: 2-3. Short hike, not too much uphill, nice paths.

Thanks for joining us!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning unless I’m already working on the post about JCRM State Park.

Next Hike: Judge C.R. Magney State Park

They tell an old story in Grand Marais
’bout a ship with three grand sails
The sailcloth is rust red, baked in the sun,
But it’s old blood at twilight in the tales.

The vessel has an odd way of appearin’
From out of the fresh water sea
The crew, well nobody knows ’em,
And the load that they carry ain’t free

That green-bottomed boat cuts waves
In half as it slides into harbor
And a hush falls over the entire town
From the mayor to the Main Street barber

The trade that the crew does is quiet.
Don’t ask or they might slit your throat.
It’s whispered about that they’re pirates
And dark deeds on that craft are afloat.

When they leave, the townsfolk breathe easy
And the artists, with canvas and paint
Why, they fill up the shops with that sailboat
And the tourists think it’s oh, so quaint.

There’s money to be made in the galleries
But the shop owners are a wee bit afraid
That those pirates will come to collect
Their part of what has been made!

I’ll probably…you know the rest. Good night and may your dreams be pirate-free.

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.