Lake Michigan

At 5 pm

At 5 pm

Commuters on the bus regard others enjoying the unfettered pleasures of being at the beach at the end of the day.  I look out at the passing scene through the bus window.  Being liberated from work is itself a pleasure, compounded by the pleasure of watching other people enjoying the day.

I think of how only the glass of the window separates me from the bathers, as we fly by on the bus, looking at the seascape just beyond the concrete median.  Yes, only the glass—our attire—the median—the speeding bus—and the destinations we travel toward—separate us from the joy of being at the beach at the end of the day, a humid weekday that’s perfectly draining, that’s made for wasting and whiling away.

Between seasons

Between seasons

This is the season that we love to go out to Michigan.  In the woods over the next six weeks, the tiniest forest plants put on their thrilling pageant, blooming alone or in great patches until the trees overshadow them with canopies of leaves.

Yesterday the temperature was forecast to hit seventy.  My party decided to head for the Warren Dunes, where we would walk an ascending forest trail and then detour to the top of one of the tallest dunes.  Would we see the earliest flowers of spring?  As we set out, it appeared unlikely, but in the higher reaches of the sleeping forest, we found evidence of the season at hand.

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