UP NORTH

It’s the place people go to escape,

A place made of cabins, pine trees and lakes.

But no matter how far you drive

There’s no sign to say “you’ve arrived”.

So just follow your heart till you find . . .

Your special place that brings peace of mind.

As you breathe in the air and unwind . . .

Your cares are all left behind.

It’s no mystery where the northwoods start

When you arrive Up North you’ll know

In your heart. 

Suzanne Kindler

It happened for me on Monday afternoon as I was driving somewhere between Flint and Gaylord, MI.  Ted had been napping, but I knew he was awake.  We had reached that point on the upper limits of I-75 where the highway separates, the billboards disappear, and between the northbound and southbound lanes the space is filled with trees. For a few miles it’s miscellaneous green, and then you begin to see the trunks of white birch. 

I reached over and touched Ted’s arm and said, “We’ve arrived.”

“Arrived?  Arrived where?” he said, looking out the window.

“Arrived where I’m a different person from who I am anywhere else,” I said. 

Ted smiled.  He’s used to me going all mystical on him when we’re up north.  I smiled back, feeling my body relax and the magic of the northwoods turn the corners of my lips upwards.

IMAGINE . . . .

Think back to your childhood and try to remember the most fun you ever had.  Chances are one of the first things that will pop into your mind is summer camp – at least if you were ever lucky enough to go. 

Being at Sue and Terry’s place on Black Lake is like that . . . .

Our place . . .

. . . is a log cabin filled with sink-down-into-them sofas. . .

. . . windows and doors that are never closed . . .

. . . and screened doors at the front and side that slam shut when they close and squeak when they open.

There’s a dock lined with American flags . . .

. . . kayaks on a sandy beach . . .

. . . a fire pit, a swing (it squeaks too), a hammock, chairs designed for conversation (that’s Sue and Terry’s cabin behind the trees) . . .

. . . and two resident Goldens (Brinkley and Ruby) who have welcomed Bear and Maddie with open paws.

At night the screened porch glows with sparkling lights . . .

. . . and we sleep amid pillows piled high on a tall bed close to open windows.

For three weeks we’ll call this beautiful setting home. 

My heart knows we’ve arrived