#33: Treat my niece to a girls overnight trip to celebrate her 13th birthday

Of all the things I want to do this year, this was tops. I once had a professor who took her grandchildren anywhere in the world they wanted to go for their bat mitzvah or bar mitzvah. It was a tradition I wanted to start with my own nieces - all five of them - though without the "anywhere in the world" part. Granted it would be great if I could swing an Amazonian river cruise or trip to Paris every few years.

Our first niece was just a babe in arms at our wedding twelve and a half years ago and a toddler when we lived near Chicago years ago, when I was in my early twenties and just getting used to big city living. Now she's on the cusp of becoming a teenager.

She lives in Illinois, so I gave her a few options - Chicago, Milwaukee, the Wisconsin Dells. She chose Chicago. All those years that she's been growing up, I've been navigating cities, so it was fun to show her the ropes. Since she was game for whatever, we spent our time the way I typically travel: taking the train, walking way too much, packing it in, shopping just a little, eating on the run, visiting a museum, buying tickets for a play that same day after researching every play in the city weeks before. She didn't get tired one bit. I very much needed a nap before it was dinnertime, but she easily could have kept going all night.

I love that she's in the in-between. She knows it too. Growing up is something she has to do. She kind of wants to and kind of doesn't. My best advice for navigating being a teenager was to stick with your closest small group of friends. With good luck, they could be your friends for a long time, and they'll help you get through all the stuff that isn't so great. And I told her to wear what you want to wear. And as far as make-up goes, I only wear eyeliner on special occasions.

Unbound

One of the best weekends I had last year was camping with a group of friends on Lake Michigan. Despite growing up in Michigan, I had never heard of Nordhouse Dunes before the trip. It's a wonderful place to spend time. Our first night, we walked down to the beach in the darkness, then laid down in the sand to look up at the starriest sky. A few of us swam under the stars. It was early September and very cold so I was sick the next day, but it was worth it. The morning we left, I stole down to the beach for a few photos and a few moments to myself.

This winter I became bound up in a lot of stress that I'm still working to unwind. I've been taking an art class and a mindfulness meditation class, and reconnecting with photography, painting and collage. I've slowly been working on finding more time to be outside, particularly out side of the city. These are the things that help me feel whole.

Tonight, I found the artist Rebecca Shapiro while looking for encaustic artists online. She produced a series for TedX Portland and in her talk, she discusses our desire for freedom and using creative expression to work through the "beliefs and behaviors that keep us bound and from enjoying movement and momentum in our lives."

I like her expression "enjoying movement and momentum in our lives." These photographs remind me of a moment when I was unbound, so I'm thinking a lot about how to create more of those moments in the weeks and months to come.

All Kinda Perfect

For my 34th birthday, I wanted to head way up north on a trip that was long overdue to see one of my favorite people. We've been back in Michigan for over two years and I had not been to the Upper Peninsula in that time, which I realize means I hadn't really been home until now.

Right as we moved in to our new home, I bought an old plastic Polaroid camera at a neighbor's estate sale for a couple dollars. It just sat on a bookshelf all this time begging me to see if it actually worked. I finally caved in to the price ($24 for 8 exposures!) and bought a pack of Impossible Project film for this road trip. It was a rainy day on the way home and we had a long day of driving ahead, but since it was my birthday we stopped off at Pictured Rocks for a few shots from the tourist lookout.


When we drove back into Munising, I realized I had left my cell phone on top of the car. We circled back and we didn't find the cell phone but I ran over for another photo.


Then we got back in the car to continue south. This really special place is along Route 2.


And here, you might see the very faint bend of a 5 mile long bridge on the horizon. When we first crossed over, I saw a man with long jet black hair when we were still a few cars back in line. I turned to Matt and said, "Oh my, that's the same man who used to take my bridge fare in high school!"

"Yeah, he took my money in February. He's (so and so's) cousin. He's a really nice guy."

Later over beers, I told my friends who live three hours further northwest this story and they said the same thing, "I love that guy."

I love that bridge and what is on the other side. It means adventure. It means hold on, I'm almost there.

I took more shots in digital this weekend that I'll share. As well as some in medium format B&W and color film, assuming the Yashica I snagged the other week, while visiting another favorite person in another part of the state that I claim as home, works.

So yeah, I juggled three cameras and many hours in and out of the car on a rainy day, soaking in some beauty on my 34th birthday. It was all kinda perfect.

Eight Vancouver Views

During most of the time we were in Vancouver last week, Matt handled the "real" camera. I was happy with my Instax (I'll post the instants once I washi them into my little trip journal). When I did take over the manual  camera for awhile, this is what I saw.

I'll be back soon with a few more details. It was a pretty laid back week but we did some worthwhile tourist-ing.

A very pink walk in the park

Sunday morning it was my turn to walk the dog. I grabbed the camera because the park has been this magical spring dreamland the last couple weeks.  The park is particularly dreamy before the city gets around to cutting the grass. It reminds me of my favorite books as a child where bunnies frolicked with little girls in fields filled with dandelions and long grass. As I was looking through the lens, the bleeding hearts and the pink dripping from the trees and covering the sidewalks like a wedding procession was so sugary sweet that it is almost too much. Mother nature has her bold way of announcing the renewal of life with each trip we take around the sun.

While I shot photos, across the expressway in Greektown a church full of people celebrated Orthodox Easter, singing hymns about Jesus rising from the dead while the trees and flowers did the same.

There are quite a few days living in the city that I bemoan how I never feel like driving out to go to a nature area, even though hiking in the woods is about my favorite thing to do. But on other days I just look up and down and around and it's enough.

Scandinavian Travel, In Retrospect

I started writing this when I looked at the calendar and it had been a month since my husband and I spent our last day in Norway. Now, another month has passed. We returned to a very fast paced fall where the weeks have slipped by, faster each one. I think of our trip a few times a week though and the shifts I've experienced in my thinking as a result of traveling.

*****
This vacation to Scandinavia was a dream, but on that last day in Norway, we were by the fish market after hours of walking around town on a drizzly day, almost aimlessly in a daze, and we watched on as a two year old melted down on the street, crying and dropping onto his knees next to his mother. I said to Matt, "I think I know how he feels. 'Get me out of this fishy town!'"

Warriors of Winter

Would you hate me if I said I didn't want winter to go? That I want more of it. That I love sunlit reflections on ice. Paws and fur on snow. Sparkles under my feet. I want more time for skiing in forests. More time for skating on ponds.

After the week of the big snowfall, I wanted more of this magic. Friday afternoon, in a rather spur of the moment decision that I too often do not get to make as an adult, I headed north. I've made this trip many times before, traveling dark roads on a Friday night to spend the weekend with someone who knows me to the core. Years ago I drove this direction many times to see the young guy who would become my husband. A five hour drive was easy when I had someone worthwhile waiting for me on the other end of the trip.  Haven't made the drive by myself in much longer than I can remember. Ten years? Fifteen years? It felt like a homecoming keep my own company while making this journey. In the winter, a stillness overcomes me as I drive north. It's a meditation.

I listened to Joni Mitchell on the way, and my ear tuned in while she sang:

Now the warriors of winter they give a cold triumphant shout

And all that stays is dying, all that lives is getting out

See the geese in chevron flight

Flappin' and a-racin' on before the snow

They got the urge for going and they've got the wings so they can go

Most creatures try to escape this cold season, but with every passing year, I look forward to it more and don't want it to end. 

The draw north this weekend was time with an old friend, a lot more paws on the snow, and a warm fire in the lodge afterward.

Late that Friday night, I met her at a little spot on a black river where one summer I flipped out of a canoe and for a moment thought I might not make it back to the surface. She was a teenager with super human strength and pulled me out of that river. I remember the moment vividly when the canoe lifted off the surface of the water, and she was standing there to save me, arms lifted high with a canoe over her head. 

Today she still has super human strength. Fearless, with the determination to do what most people do not consider doing. No sled for her. She set her feet into skis and strapped her waist to a couple of long legged dogs barely out of puppyhood who wanted nothing more than to run fast into the woods. Those two dogs and the power of her own will and strength pulled her forward. 

A few miles later, and a minute ahead of the competition, these three crossed the finish line.

They ran the course Saturday and Sunday mornings, and placed first both times. It was their first competitive run. It's exhilarating, this snow and fur and strength of will.

The weekend drew to a close so I headed south. I stopped on the way to strap some skis on my own feet and propel myself through the woods for a bit. The snow was falling between the pines. As I stopped a few times to catch my breath, I took in the wonder of it all. 

I made it back home to my husband and my dog before sunset. We immediately went to the park to tromp and pull through the snow once more.

Natural Detroit:: 1

The New Year gets you thinking, you know. Since moving to Detroit, I haven't been feeling quite like me. And, honestly as a result, this blog hasn't been feeling quite like me. I've been busy so I didn't have much time or energy to figure out what was a little off. Then the other week while couch ridden from a long drawn out cold, I stumbled across this lovely blog called Resurrection Fern and I realized clear as the sky what was missing from this space.

I settled on the name wanderCRAFT because while posting to my first blog (which I started over six years ago - gak!), I gravitated towards crafts, nature, and things I stumbled on when I'm out wandering or traveling. That combination felt like me. Since moving to Detroit, I haven't felt the same inspiration to photograph and it made blogging not quite as fun. The spark was gone. I was okay with the lapsed inspiration as we settled in, but as three months turned to four then five, this gap kept nagging at me more.

After stepping back, I finally owned up to what I think was holding me back. I'm not inspired to photograph abandoned factories and derelict urban scenes but I admit they abound. Others are capturing that side of this place very well and I'm fascinated by what they see through the lens, but it's not my muse. My calling is to find nature again, even in this very urban place. That's what makes me feel whole. In Boston it was pretty easy to escape to the woods or the ocean or even the mountains, but here I'm going to have to try a little harder to seek out new places. Finding my connection to nature here is part of this place feeling like home.

Sunday I was still sniffling and coughing from this terribly drawn out cold but I insisted we take off for an hour to a park not too far outside of the city. You see, this weekend we were scheduled to drive several hours up north for what I'm sure was a wonderful celebration of one of my closest friend's parents' 40th wedding anniversary. Compared to where we're living, they live in the wilderness. Stars. Woods. A river that does not have a casino on its shores. My heart broke at not having the energy or health to get away.

Sunday, before the sun made its departure for the evening, this walk was the best remedy. When we stepped out onto frozen Lake St. Claire, I felt a little bit like Maria when she stepped out onto the mountaintop.

I need to find more and soak it in. My one little word for 2011 is 'stretch' and part of my challenge is to stretch my boundaries. Over the last five months I've managed to cocoon myself into this little comfy nook and routine in the city where I don't often stray. I really love it here. But I need to get out too.

Here's to finding myself outside in 2011. Stretching myself up to the wide open sky.