Copper Country

There aren't many places that feel like home to me. You know, the kind of place where you immediately feel welcome. Where you know every nook and cranny, and the history of the people and places surrounding you. The result of constant moving as a child was that there was no place where everyone knew me, and I knew them. Of all the places I've called home, one place holds this kind of allure for me. I don't know the people or their histories anymore. The buildings look slightly changed, purposed. Yet it's the only place where I'm likely to run into someone in the general store who might have changed my diaper long ago.

The town is SO tiny that it's not an easy task to get lost. It's just a smattering of houses and businesses along a stretch of Lake Superior. It's about as far north as you can go in Michigan; we even saw a few rebel trees with their leaves changing already. The big news in town is where the bear was last sighted or where the berries are growing wildly. Having moved away from Copper Harbor at the age of two, and spent one summer there when I was ten, much has changed in the small village. Still, much is the same.


We had such a wonderful time exploring and running around the Harbor. From throwing rocks in Lake Superior to finding crayfish and frogs in Lake Manganese we really enjoyed all of the natural spaces and places in the Keweenaw. We honestly can't wait to return again some time soon.

PS- You can click on the collage to make it larger.

Par for the Course

Our kids wake up early. And, they've trained us like wise. There aren't many places it's acceptable to go at 8:00 am on a Saturday morning but Evergreen works just fine for us. I'm sure you're wondering how in the world we're able to go golfing with two preschoolers.

Have we given birth to two new Tigers, discovering hidden talent in our dynamic duo? Uh, no. But, Gary likes to golf and the kids like to run around the course. As long as we go early enough, nobody is likely to complain about the ruckus our little ones bring to the civilized game.


It's really quite nice. It's quiet, warm and usually sunny when we go. We're out just long enough for Gary to play 9 holes and let the kids run around. They've got their own clubs, which of course they fight over. Sometimes they ride in the cart with us, sometimes they run in front of it. We always search for bull frogs on the 5th hole, and sometimes we even find them. Maybe some day I'll even grab a club.

Silence is Golden (or is it?)

There are so many golden, melt-your-heart moments this summer that make me love the threes. I find the kids snuggling together in bed, or pretending to put the other to bed (I'm honestly not as mean at bedtime as they are while playing bedtime!), or even just reading together in their rooms. They're so able to occupy themselves now that it's easy to do the dishes or check facebook while they're playing together. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not leaving them unattended for large amounts of time (see this post). However, enough time to use the bathroom has been the blessing that this summer has over last. It's been a beautiful thing.

Yesterday morning caught me by surprise. First, let me say that I was in the same room with the children, and I was simply reading through some of the old emails from our internet-less time in Spain. I remember thinking, "Wow. They play so well together now." From the corner I my eye, I thought I spied B swatting M on the arm. Hopping up to hand out the well-deserved time out, I realized that I misunderstood the entire context of what was happening. They weren't, as I thought, playing with matchbox cars on their broken parking garage. B wasn't beating on his sister. Instead, they were dumping baby powder all over it and sliding their hands all through it.

I gasped. It reminded me of a story my mother tells about my cousin Jessica and me, a jar of Vaseline, a "nap" and a mess. It also made me thankful that it was only vacuumable baby powder!

Birthday

Stuck...

Memories exist from my childhood, warnings of dangers lurking in our basement. There were rules about hide and seek hiding places-- never in the old hutch or other scary places. These lessons were firmly planted in my little brain. Now that my children are old enough to play a little on their own, these memories are sneaking into my subconscious as I fold the laundry or do the dishes.

So, imagine my panic when Mia came running up the stairs the other day, yelling about Benjamin being stuck. Immediately, I started running through all the of the terrible scenarios of dangerous places where he could be stuck. How long had it been since she's decided to come and get me? I ran down the stairs only to spy Benjamin and run to get the camera. Really, how could I resist? I'm guessing that he was trying to wear his Easter bucket as a hat, but how priceless is that face?