Bell Choir- January 2026

Today was handbell Sunday. We hadn't practiced these songs much because we worked so hard on the Christmas songs. But we were granted the gift of everyone reaching deep and doing a pretty good job. Sorry that neither video is framed very well, but the music is the important part.

This is "Song of Joy" by Arnold Sherman



The second song we played was "In the Bleak Midwinter." I'd never heard this until I was an adult and was involved with Methodist groups. It's pretty much a Methodist hymn. The words are a poem by Christina Rosetti, a well-known poet of the mid 1800s.

I've put the words below the video.



1 In the bleak midwinter
frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone:
snow had fallen,
snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter,
long ago.

2 Our God, heaven cannot hold him,
nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away
when he comes to reign:
in the bleak midwinter
a stable place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

3 Enough for him whom cherubim
worship night and day,
a breastful of milk
and a mangerful of hay:
enough for him
whom angels fall down before,
the ox and ass and camel
which adore.

4 Angels and archangels
may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim
thronged the air,
but only his mother,
in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the Beloved
with a kiss.

5 What can I give him,
poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb,
if I were a wise man
I would do my part,
yet what I can I give him,
give my heart.

I took a walk after church, but the snow is deep and even Cartier Park wasn't plowed. Shopped because we are supposed to get a blizzard tonight and tomorrow, and filled the veggie bin.

Going to bed early. I didn't sleep much last night.

Miles hiked in 2026: 23.4

Cartier Park, Ludington, MI 1.4 miles

See Bell Choir Christmas Part 2

Bristol Branch - Evangeline

  There were several really cool parts of today, but I'll concentrate on one of them for this blog post.

We had another perfect lunch spot if we hiked fast. We wanted to make it to the Evangeline Shelter. The Finger Lakes Trail System has quite a few shelters, all named. I'd heard this name before, but hadn't heard how it got it's name. It is indeed named for the poem of the same name by Longfellow. These quotes are on the wall of the shelter. "This is the forest primeval, the murmuring pines and the hemlocks." And "When she had passed it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music." This is meaningful to me because it was my grandmother's favorite poem. This is Granny Rowe, the one who raised me on epic poetry and stories of all kinds. The shelter itself is wonderful. Here's a long view. The little pavilion in front of it houses a block fireplace with a grill. In this picture, you can see how the inside is laid out. There is a sleeping loft with carpet! There is a table and some chairs, books, various utensils, things hikers might need (bandaids, bungie cords, t.p., etc). There was even a porch swing mounted inside that I found quite comfortable. Marie had to coax me out of it to get me back to hiking. It was a day of many hills, but most of them only in the 200-300 foot range, and unnamed. Here, we had just come down one and were starting up the next. Faber Pond, a small body of water we passed. Water features always look nice. Of course, right after that we climbed another hill. This is looking back at the hills we had just come over. The last treat of the day was the Huckleberry Bog nature loop. I'll tell you more about that another day. For now we'll settle for "the hugging trees." These two are a white pine and an oak. By their ages, someone has speculated that loggers spared them and twisted them together long ago.

9.3 miles for the day. It was hotter than yesterday, but we felt better because the humidity was not as high. It was Marie's birthday. We had ice cream!

Tomorrow is going to be another play day. Stay tuned.

See Bristol Branch - More Italy Hill

Betsy's Book Launch

 
A friend of mine, who's in my writer group, had a book launch party this evening. She's Elizabeth M. Rosenow, Betsy. Here is her book of poems about country life, Sandhill Mist, Seasons on a Centennial Farm.


Some other members of the group, one of them my friend Ellen, organized the event. Betsy read poems from the book for about 30 minutes.



If you enjoy seasons, farms and life close to nature you'll like Betsy's work.

The party was held at the Shagway Arts Barn, a fairly new venture, out near Indian Pete Bayou on Hamlin Lake. They sell local handmade art and craft items. Lovely display, nice setting. They even have some hiking trails that I need to go explore.



The evening began with live music by Cheryl Wolfram- a fitting collection of songs for the occasion.



After that, Betsy read, and then we all had cake! The cake was decorated with sheep. Why? you ask. Betsy is the friend who has the Icelandic Sheep.

About 30 people attended, a nice turnout for a first book by a local artist.



She sold a number of books, and we all congratulated her. Way to go, Betsy! You can find Sandhill Mist on Amazon. You won't be disappointed.

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Sweet Mia - Charlotte

 

My good friend, John, at Don't Unplug Your Hub, has found himself a new friend named Mia. Mia has quite a personality! But this picture he posted on Facebook, and which I have shamelessly stolen for my use, shows her in a pensive pose.


It immediately made me think of the German Shepherd we once had, named Charlotte. She also liked to stare out the window, and that John has the same curtains I had in my living room, making the time-warp even more strange!

Here's the next piece of the story. In January of 1975, I set a goal of writing one poem every day of that month. (This was before we had a baby to care for. Read... I had some free time.)

I sketched Charlotte, and wrote a poem about her.

Sweet Charlotte

Sweet Charlotte, what do you see?
When you look out the window
Are you only catching slow flies,
Or do you dream of worlds that are free?

January 14, 1975

Wow, that was 39 years and 3 days, and 5 dogs ago.

	See Dogs of my Life- Charlotte
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An Award and a Passage

It's taken me a few days, but I finally am ready to accept the Versatile Blogger award, given to me by Ivy at Spinning Lovely Days. Versatile is a nice word for "unfocused," "all over the map," etc. But at this point in my life, I embrace my versatility! Thank you, Ivy.

I'm supposed to:
Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award.
Share 7 things about yourself.
Pass the award to other bloggers who you think deserve it.
Be sure to let the bloggers know you chose them to receive the award.

I'm going to put my four recipients first, and then proceed to the second part of this post, and item #2.

Recipient 1: Dennis the Vizsla, and his dada. Not only are they versatile, but, heck, I would give them an award just to get into the Sunday Awards and Meme Show (if Dennis gets back from his other dimension in time).
Recipient 2: Rose, at What I Made Today, because she is truly versatile! She draws, and cans food, and makes mysterious "stuff."
Recipient 3: John, who writes Some Assembly Required. He is a photographer, web designer, Dalmatian lover and nurturer, and collector of interesting watches.
Recipient 4: Kwattro. I've recently become acquainted with him in the Adgetize forum. He collects a variety of things, and blogs about some of them at A Day in a Zoider's World. With such diverse interests, he must be versatile.

Seven Things You May Not Know About Me
1. I am wearing pajamas with flying cows on them!
2. I am wa-a-a-a-ay over-extended. OK, you already knew that
3. I am in the #1 spot at Shared Reviews right now!
4. I'm a Jeopardy! Junkie.
5. I not only hate pink, it makes me nervous.
6. I'm bored with thinking up new things about me.
7. We used to take in foster kids- see Part 2

Part 2 - A Passage

I saw in the paper today where a man we know has died. Actually, he was one of the teens we had on foster care (not "our Sam"), way back when. Doesn't he have sort of a lost puppy look? Maybe if we'd met him when he was younger that sweet boy could have been found and saved. As it was, he stayed with us for two years and was "difficult." I always said that if he didn't end up getting arrested for attempted murder I would consider our efforts a success. But, eventually he was arrested for just that...

But now, as we all will, he has gone on to face the hereafter. The paper gave no indication of what happened. Here's a poem I wrote about him in 1975.

A Prayer for Sam

Jesus:
Sam came back today from spending
Christmas vacation with his Mom.
He was arrogant.
Spiteful,
Smart-mouthed,
But not quite hateful.
(Did he know how much I fear him?)

When I told him at the dinner table
That he didn’t need to be so nasty,
His eyes filled and
Brimmed with
Hate – but
Then faded to scorn.
(Did he see the hate in me?)

Later on he asked if I would make a flag
That he needed for a class at school.
I answered him,
“I’ll help
You.” “All right,”
He agreed, reluctantly.
(Did he feel me search for words?)

We cut it out together, just a
White flag with a red cross.
“I can’t do it right.”
He was angry,
Shame-faced.
“Sure you can, “ I said.
(Did he sense I wasn’t sure?)

He sewed it slowly, but at last
The flag was finished, ready to hand in.
Unsteady,
Impatient,
Beautiful – then
“Thanks for helping.”
(Did he see Your love through me?)

"Thirty-eight" - A Winning Story

 
The results were announced last night for the May contest at Accentuate Writers, with a theme of Sorrow.

The levels of prizes have changed a bit from earlier contests. Now they are giving one first prize, and five additional prizes with no other ranking.

I submitted a story entitled "Thirty-Eight," about a young man who is in the early stages of grief at losing his wife in a car accident. My story was selected as one of the secondary winners! There were 47 entries. This means that when the book Expressions of Pain comes out that I'll receive a contract and royalties.

Admittedly, these are small beginnings, but I'm really appreciative of the opportunities I've found at Accentuate Writers. I've been spurred into doing some creative writing again. Here's the list of what I've won, and the expected publication dates.

First Love Theme, Nov 2009- "Invisible" took 3rd place, will be in the book Elements of Love scheduled to be released November 2010. This story highlights the dilemma faced by a single mother who gives up her child. She knows who he his, but he never knows that she is his mother.

Engagement Theme, Jan 2010 - "The Case of the Cautious Couple" took 1st place, will also be in Elements of Love, scheduled to be released November 2010. This is a spoof of the classic Perry Mason mysteries.

Wedding Theme, Feb 2010 - "On Time for the Wedding" will not be in a print book, but qualified for a digital download which should be for sale soon at Accentuate Services. Set in the late 19th century, a young man is riding hard to make it to the church, but will he be there in time to meet his true love?

Anger Theme, April 2010 - "Toby and Harry" will not be in a print book, but qualified for a digital download which should be for sale soon at Accentuate Services. Toby is an angry toddler whose constant bad temper may cause more problems than his young mind can contemplate.

Anger Theme, April 2010 - the poem "Digital Lament" will be in the book Expressions of Pain, scheduled to be released in 2011.

Sorrow Theme, May 2010 - "Thirty-eight" as described above will be in the book Expressions of Pain, scheduled to be released in 2011.

On this blog, folks, I just sort of "talk" to you. It's a great outlet for me to just be friendly and share things that I find interesting. It's also important for me to write some in a more structured manner. Of course, I need to keep working on the essays for the sequel to North Country Cache, which will be called North Country Quest.

Also, this month I'm putting together an all-new media program about my adventures on the North Country Trail. The first showing will be August 3 or 4th in Petoskey, MI.

Hoping that you'll celebrate these victories with me as much as the hiking!

Where Am I Going?

I was going to show you several flower pictures today, but I'm getting bogged down in getting them up on the photo web site, and I don't want to let a little discovery slip by without mentioning it. But first, with some digital editing I can bring you a picture of Ellen and me from yesterday, together.

We've also discovered that we share a love of poetry too. We got to talking more about poems for children and she pulled out a copy of A.A Milne's When We Were Very Young. That was one of the books that I had read to me, and then read myself, what must have been 1000 times. But I haven't looked at it for quite a few years now.

Here's my discovery... So many of the same poems that I remember as my favorites still speak to me deeply now. Yeah, I know they were meant for children. But poems for children didn't used to use grade level vocabulary and word length. They use themes that speak to children, and are sometimes funny just because of their meter, but they sure aren't One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish (OK, I like that one too, but it's not the same). These are poems that use language. I would love to quote a whole lot of them to you, but I'm going to settle for one stanza of the poem "Spring Morning." Seems to still pretty much speak to who I am.

Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow --
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow --
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.

I'll end with a picture of the common toothwort, Dentaria diphylla. It's a cousin to the cutleaf toothwort I showed the other day. Flowers pretty much identical, but look how different the leaves are.


Just one final question to ponder... Was I shaped by the poems, or was I already programmed by age two or three so that certain poems were more or less destined to be my favorites?

See More Flowers in the Cemetery Ravine for the cutleaf toothwort. See Windy Nights for another favorite poem from my childhood

Salmon Sea

Sorry, but we have to take a one-day break from the flower show. A poem erupted in my brain while driving back to Michigan. (In Ann Arbor tonight, home some time tomorrow!) If you look closely, you'll see two small bright streaks in the photo.

Salmon Sea

Two silver fish turned and
wriggled through the salmon sea.
At the bottom of their world,
tickling their bellies–
black seaweed.

Others said, “it’s only jets,
you silly goose,
circling the Cleveland
airport at sunset,
above the trees.”

Are they all blind?
I know what I have seen.

c. March 5, 2010, by sharkbytes

See Valentine at the Beach See Joshua Turns 40! for "The Path to My Kitchen Door"

Valentine at the Beach

Valentine at the Beach

I wandered, lonely in the mist,
The sun shone cold, my soda warmed.
A dying carp adorned my shoe,
I felt so grand! The flies they swarmed.

A wave splashed seaweed round my knees,
I slipped upon the slimy rock.
I fell headlong; my sandwich smashed;
The soda dribbled down my sock.

A glorious day, like none I’ve known,
Gulls dropped like angels from above,
I never saw the great white shark,
O don’t you know, I was in love!

(just for fun- by sharkbytes, Feb 14, 2010)
P.S. 9:30 Mon- I obviously did not succeed in my purpose based on comments so far. This is supposed to be funny. Guess I'm not as cute as I thought.

>

Joshua Turns 40!

 




This is another of those kinda personal posts. But it was totally clouded in this morning, so no sunrise and no precise Kitchenhenge. Therefore, you get to share in the other big event of the day. Joshua's 40th birthday. (Well, unless you want to call the fact that his refrigerator died the big event.) We took him to Ponderosa for lunch to celebrate (the birthday, not the dead refrigerator).



Josh is the middle son, although he was the last to join the family. Here we all are, on February 4, 1977, when we first met him. He came to us with basically what you see here: the clothes on his back, a cat in a carrier, a huge cookie that his foster family helped him make for us, one paper grocery sack of toys (not pictured), and one suitcase of clothes. Oddly enough, the suitcase in the picture is not his. Funny how I just noticed that anomaly. I guess this one must belong to the social worker that traveled with him on the airplane.

Here is my all time favorite picture of Josh. In true grown-up guy fashion, he hates it, but that's ok. I'm the mom, and I get to like it anyway. It was his school picture in the fall of 1977, just about 7 months after joining our family.

We were going to buy him shoes today, but given the appliance issue, gave him the option of a used refrigerator. That was his choice, so we spent an hour hunting the area for a used one. No luck at all, but we've put in his name with all the charities, and asked to be called if any of the stores get one in. So after all that, we took him home with no shoes and a bar fridge from our storage shed.

Oh, the little munchkin being held by dad is Steve. We pick him up at the airport tomorrow night, so you might get to meet him in the next few days, if he doesn't object. Sam is on the right. We don't really see him any more.

The Path to My Kitchen Door

In summer the grass
Is worn down to the earth;
That sandy, brown scar
Makes the lawn lose its worth.

In fall, broken sticks
Dropped by dogs can be found:
A hazard for mowing
Or walking around.

In winter my lovely
Ski path's full of dents.
Large "post holes" from boot steps
Cause me to lament.

In spring, that brown stripe
Just refuses to green;
No matter the season
It always is seen.

I foolishly wish
For suburban green lawn.
But if that were mine,
Oh! What would be gone?

"Hi Mom, I just came
For the phone," or "I locked
Myself out again; Where's
The spare key? I forgot."

"Hey, thanks for the help,
Mom, I love you, you know.
Shall I bring in the paper,
Or shovel some snow?"

Should I trade a hug
For green carpet galore?
No. I'll cherish that path
To my kitchen door.

by J.H. Young (sharkbytes)

See My Low-Budget Black Taco Ad See The Point of My Quality Day for more pictures of Josh

You know you are a long-distance hiker ...

 



...when four of your toenails are black– only four, because three of the others already fell off.

...when you choose to eat cold meals for days rather than carry an 11 oz. stove

...when the syllable MOOS means a large mammal and not a hair gel

...when you are pretty sure that two pair of underwear is plenty for a week

...when you buy extra moleskin and baby powder and skip the toothpaste

...when a “zero” is a day off not a loser, and a “nero” is a near-zero day, not a Roman emperor

...when ibuprofen is your favorite appetizer

...when the phrase “beaver activity” strikes more terror in your heart than “traffic jam”

...when clean hair is something you dream of, and television is a distant memory

...when contour lines and fall lines mean more to you than age lines

...when you have to sleep on the porch when you get home because the bedroom is too stuffy

Bed is Too Small
(anonymous)

Bed is too small for my tiredness.
Give me a hill topped with trees.
Tuck a cloud up under my chin.
Lord, blow the moon out, please.

Rock me to sleep in a cradle of dreams.
Sing me a lullaby of leaves.
Tuck a cloud up under my chin.
Lord, blow the moon out, please.



West Pike Lake, North Country/Border Route Trail, Minnesota ArrowheadSee A Major Hiking Goal Decision
See Hiking the Minnesota Arrowhead

A Blue Rubber Ball

A Blue Rubber Ball

A blue rubber ball
Hidden in the stubbled field...
When did you lose it, my
Golden Chip of sunshine?

It was well-chewed,
Had played hard, like you.
Did you laugh when you dropped it,
Thinking to tease?

Ten years and more
The grasses have hidden it.
How swift are the shadows
That measure our days.

A red rubber ball
Nestled with your buried bones...
Do you run the forever fields
Awaiting another game?

Hike Planning Report

Made another shopping trip and got all the rest of the ingredients for the hot meals Completed meals:    Tuna-rice curry, peanuts, banana pudding    Bean soup, cornbread, tootsie rolls Only a short walk... still rained all day!

See In Memory of Hoover Houdini Chips
See The Pup and the Post Office

Windy Nights

Windy Nights
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.

I practically inhaled A Child's Garden of Verses as a child. This was always one of my favorite poems, and windy nights still raise a strange excitement within me. They make me want to run, and sniff the air, and maybe even howl. (Perhaps it's not so surprising that I seem to understand dogs?)

Last night was just such a time, and with my excitement already aroused by the hike planning, I had to share the swaying pines with you.

Hike Planning Report

Didn't get a lot done- I had some other commitments. Got 2 more days of our custom guide done, for a total of 4 days. Hiked 1.5 miles with 31 pounds

P.S. I also found this "related article" widget today, the same as Ratty. I'm giving it a whirl for a few days, but if I don't like the articles it picks I'll keep making my own links.

Here are my choices to link:
See Sticky Fingers in Pine Cone City for another view of the pines.
See Wander Thirst for another favorite poem.

Wander Thirst

This may end up being one of the Quality Elements of the entire year. I can hardly believe that I've lived my whole life and never crossed paths with this poem before.

Gerald Gould lived 1885-1936. He was an English writer and journalist. He regularly contributed poetry to the London Daily Herald. His poems were popular and a few appeared in collections, but many of them remain buried in newspaper morgues.

Wander-Thirst is supposed to be his best-known poem.
Wander-Thirst
by Gerald Gould

Beyond the east the sunrise; Beyond the west the sea
And East and West the Wander-Thirst that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness to bid me say goodbye,
For the seas call, and the stars call, and oh! The call of the sky!

I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,
But a man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide, a star;
And there’s no end to voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the rivers call, and the road calls, and oh! The call of a bird!

Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away
And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun,
And the white road and the sky.
This was my last day at work in the apartment. I ate lunch sitting in the bay window, and read this poem over and over.

	See The Bay Window
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