MICHIGAN'S GEMS

Michigan has more lighthouses than any other state.  I was excited that we were able to visit 9 of them along with everything else we did.

And each, like a precious jewel, is unique to itself.

Here is the Little Sable Light.

It stands alone now; the living quarters were destroyed some time ago.

And, yes, it lists!  Historic photos show the water lapping right at its feet, and over the years, erosion has undermined the foundation.

Natural sunlight serves as the beacon here:

The listing is more evident here:

As Pat and I strolled the beach, we came across a phenomenon.

There was a patch of what we called "Sand-doos" - 4 to 5-inch-tall wind-formed shapes, like miniscule replicas of the hoodoos of Bryce National Park.

One can chuckle at my subject for this photo here, but I think it is quintessential Michigan.

White sand, nearly as fine as baby powder, and folks enjoying it:

Big Sable Light was constructed  in 1867, about 8 years before Little Sable.

We reached this by way of a 3-mile hike in Ludington Stake Park, through sand dunes and sparse woods. I liked the perspective here, with all the bikes, even as we wished we had taken that mode instead of our tired, hot feet:

Drift fences became one of my favorite photo subjects:

And board walks.  This one taken from inside the lighthouse:

WATER. WATER: YES, EVERYWHERE!

... and it's all fresh!

Our first day's hike was in Ludington State Park, the Lost Lake Trail.

There are many, many lovely ponds, besides the Lake, and these next 2 photos are reflections,

looking like abstracts, which I love to try to make:

First of the multiple wildlife we saw that day:

On the return, we followed the Sable ("Sau-ble") River, which flows into Lake Michigan.

(I began to wonder if every waterway we saw contributed to Lake Michigan!)

These buoys are above a little dam, and I loved the complementary colors, showing so blatantly here: 

And this is the frothy movement just below the dam.

I was taken with how it formed marbleized patterns around the stones and pier remnants:

Up North, at the tip of Mission Peninsula is the little Old Mission Light.

(Lighthouses to come in future postings).

I couldn't get over how the water in front of the lighthouse looked as though it was low tide, but in fact, there are no tides:

One of our favorite beach places, the Bass Lake Outlet near where Pat's family used to have a cottage:

Pier reflections during the day:

And at night:

This posting ends with a sunset, and folks silhouetted during that "Golden Hour" on the 

Ludington  Light pier: 

CONNECT THE DOTS ... er ... BARNS

 Pat and I  felt as if we were indeed connecting the "dots" by going from barn to barn along the country routes to our other destinations.  

Each one was unique; obviously designed by the original farmer and not by an architectural board. Many have attached silos:

Also evident were the lightening rods.  The really long barn roofs are prickly with phalanxes of them.

This farmhouse belongs to the above barn.

I really like that Mrs. Farmer had her say in exterior design too:

Striped silo:

And the farmer who gave a friendly wave when I held my camera high, asking permission

to photograph the barn.

He actually soon finished working the field and then pulled his tractor up to the fence to ask whatever it was "about barns" that was interesting enough to photograph!  Little did he know what conversation he was starting.

 Then he asked me, "Do you like draft horses?"  (Huh?  I know nothing about them.)

"Foh-a-low me dahown the row-ud".

We drove at putt-putt speed behind his tractor.

He was very proud to introduce us to
Beauty and Betty, a matched pair of percherons.

He uses them in plowing demonstrations.  Much better looking than his tractor!

What a friendly trio!

Then we "met" Cherry Hill Farm and the owner's son-in-law who owns an adjoining farm.  The complex has been in the family for over 100 years.  The original farmer started with a pair of Irish Shorthorns, which resultant herd (part of it) grazes here.  Was there ever a more bucolic scene?

The intent of that first farmer was to have relaxed, contented cows, so he determined to put a window at each stall!  Cherry Hill is still known as the "happy cow farm".

Pat and I were certainly happy to walk around the land with the gracious farmer.

Vintage and wonderful!:

More vintage.  

I still stand behind my observation that Michigan farms are completely tidy.

This is not junk; it is art, and a beloved old family member, deservedly put out to pasture. 

I love this vignette at Cherry Hill, with all the geometry, color, and shadow:

I need to throw in a lovely white barn after all that red.

Find any litter here?

BACKBONES OF THE MIDWEST

Anyone who knows me knows that I. Love. Old. Barns.  My biography would be titled, "Barn Seeker", and my native name would be "She-Who-Prowls-After-Old-Barns-in-Remote-Places."

Everywhere we went, no matter our destination, there were countless barns.  Duh.  This, after-all, is part of the original Breadbasket of the USA. So, not only did I love the individual barns, but I honored them as part of our patriotic heritage. I was in heaven!

This one is hardly visible, but I love that these now immense trees were probably planted at each of the 4 corners while the siding was newly-planed: 

Pat, I am sure, was mortified at my modus operendus, which is to leap out of the car and simply go up to the front door of the farmhouse and knock.  I like approaching the folks to compliment them on their barns and ask permission to photograph.

Never have I met with a negative response; people are open and kind, and I usually get added historical information from the owners.

No one was home at this farm, so I wandered about the Sobanski farm, calling out as I photographed:

Yes, I love the barns, but I love the ambiance and even the bucolic aroma too:

I love what the time of day did to color and shadow these old planks and windows:

It wasn't long at all before Pat enjoyed the "approach" effect, and it was usually the two of us who got Up Close and Personal with the farm Personnel.

This was a large complex of barn and outbuildings, and the owner was happy to talk to us; even walked around with us, and showed us his wife's bottled jams she takes to the local market.  We would have purchased some of her lovely cherry jam if we weren't traveling by plane.

Barns with field-stone foundations became our favorites.  They  are stalwart representatives of the brawny determination of the original builders who scrabbled the stones from their own earth, then used a softer sense of art to place each one "just so". 

Jim explained how local Amish came 'round to help him re-stabilize this foundation:  

This is the same barn, different side  Many times I will take more photos of "barn vignettes" than I do of the barn itself, and here I love the color of the casually-placed boat oars: 

Speaking of "vignette", here is part of a different barn:

Okay, yes, most of these have metal roofs, and I have declared before that a barn is nearly disqualified as photograph-able if it has a (gag) metal roof.  Of course, I know the purpose is to lengthen the life of the barn, and in the case of these more-than-a-century-old ones, I am grateful they have been preserved.  

The flip side that brings these barns back into favor with me is that Midwest farms are TIDY! I kept exclaiming that I doubt even a piece of lint could be found around any farm.

Try to find a scrap of anything here:

This same barn at a different time of day.  

Imagine the thrill of being able to put this distinctive window in place a hundred years ago!

The farmer at this place actually left his work to talk to us. We learned sad news, that this barn will most likely deteriorate in its time.  It was built in 1892, but the expense is too much to bring it up to the code the historical society wants before they step in to help.

His very sociable horse came out to see us too.  He is a retired Amish horse whose work name was Bart and who is now called "Bullet".

This metal roof is quite acceptable because of the farmer's eye to design.

I love the trimmed windows!

 MANY more barns will follow.

PATHWAYS

Every day in Michigan, we hiked and hiked and walked and walked, and - lucky for us - it seemed we always had the paths and trails mostly to ourselves.  All the better to enjoy immersing ourselves in the moods of the different landscapes.  Unlike Robert Frost, we could travel any path we chose. 

Whether into the woods...

or through sand;

over water;

up high...

(representative of countless lighthouses we visited):

or unique (the mile-long breakwater path out to Ludington Light):

... each path we chose was a conduit to a new and beautiful adventure.

Even all the streets in Ludington (I put my hand over my heart with that word; respectfully like Mayberry to me) were lined in patriotism:

from morning...

... until after sunset. 

But like Robert Frost, we were free to "mark a path for another day"!