let there be green things

We planted plugs of dune grass at the bottom of our still-too-naked bluff last fall. A hopeful gesture to be sure, because there is no guarantee that the plugs will take or that they will not be buried by the shifting sands over the windy winter. Still, for the cost of $75 it wasn’t much of a risk. And, even buried they provide much needed stability to the bluff.

We weren’t at the cottage as much over this winter as we had been in the past few years. I’m not even certain why, as the winter was mild. Busy? Always. Tired? That too. But as I sit here today before I need to head home, and then ready myself for a week long work trip, there are undeniable signs of spring.

Spring comes later along the lake shore. But the neighbor’s daffodils along their drive are the first cheerful yellow here. The dune grasses—even those we planted, that did get nearly buried by drifting sand—have sent up fresh green shoots. The lilac bush that is uncontrollably wild and glorious and has taken over the space between our cottage and the neighbor’s is preparing its riotous blooms. I can’t wait to be back when they open, to bury my face in them, to sit on the side deck and watch (and hear!) the bees as they work to gather the nectar and pollen.

The bluff and the beach, which four years ago I worried relentlessly over, are beginning to stabilize. That’s how it works, I know, but the drama of it can be overwhelming. At the bottom of our stairs that we built last year there is a post that 1) marks the high water of 2020 and 2) I relentlessly complained about being too tall. I couldn’t reach high enough to put a towel on its top, or toss an inner tube over it. Today the top of the post barely reaches my waist. And this year there is a line of new dune grass sprouting up halfway between the bottom of the bluff and the water’s edge. This is how the foredunes develop.

I know that soon enough the bluff will be covered with grasses and plants. The foredune, forming now, will be covered and provide a haven for the snakes and spiders that make for interesting surprises as you’re walking back up to the house after a swim or paddle. I don’t remember paying attention to this process when last it happened, but now I am fully attuned.

But this is how it works. The landscape here is constantly changing. I hope to never experience what we did in 2020 and 2021, but there is no taming, or reasoning with, the nature of this lake. So for today I’ll just delight in the sunshine, the singing birds, the green shoots of dune grass before I head home.

winter grasses

Lake Michigan dune grasses, last winter (2021)

The dune grasses on Lake Michigan go to seed in the fall. One variety shoots a tall wispy stalk of delicate seeds several feet above the grasses; another produces these thicker stalks, which are soft and sturdy and remind me a bit of a cat tail (but not the plant called cattail, or bullrush–I mean an actual cat’s tail). The grasses turn from a verdant green in summer to a rather striking golden straw color in the winter.

In the spring, the green shoots of new grasses poke their way up through the golden carpet. This carpet of old and new grasses just layers on top of itself, helping to stabilize the dune. It’s miraculous, I think.

I took this photo last winter on a short hike across the dune near the Little Sable Point Lighthouse with my Minolta SRT-102.

working on the thankfulness

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Changes are still rolling along around here. Just riding the rollercoaster, trying to be the best daughter, mother, partner, human, all of that, and continue to nurture my creativity and my soul. I’ve said more times in the last few weeks phrases like “I won’t go down with the ship,” and “I won’t let this break me.” Dramatic, I know. But we get so comfortable in our phases and it stings a bit to get pushed out of them. Or maybe that’s just me, and I’m a bit selfish.

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Anyway. In late October, just after I got back from Iceland, I spent a weekend at the cottage while my husband, son, and a few of their biking friends took part in a race in a town just a few miles from here. That weekend, my son’s girlfriend (who is like a daughter to me) and I spent a few hours out on the dunes of Silver Lake. This is truly one of my favorite places to photograph and it simply never disappoints. Open landscape, windswept dunes, ghosts of trees from centuries past, living and breathing dunescape. I don’t have the negatives in front of me, but I’m pretty sure it was T-Max 100, maybe expired.

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And now I can’t remember if it was that same weekend, or a later weekend, that I shot this odd roll of Lomography Lomochrome Purple on the backroads and at the market near the cottage. I love this film and I have shot it a fair bit, but this one was different…

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There are little green flecks in it, not totally visible in some of the images but definitely there in all of them. This roll wasn’t stored very well and traveled with me to and from Iceland, so maybe something went wrong with it somewhere? Odd, but that’s okay.

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So, yesterday was Thanksgiving and it’s been a bittersweet several days. My family has been in and out and I am beyond thankful for time I get with my kids. But I am struggling to be what my dad needs and still be myself. We have been home and at the cottage. The waves and wind on Lake Michigan soothe me but I think they are unnerving my dad. I don’t know what’s next. I just don’t know what’s next.

More from these two rolls here. (Edited this last sentence because while writing last night, I apparently accidentally pasted a link to a concise answer to a grammar question I was asked rather than the link to my flickr album. Oops.)

new old things and it’s getting dark

I’ve been driving my new (but not new new) car for about a week and a half and it’s just so great. I’m attached. We’ve bonded. We’re pals. I haven’t come up with a suitable name yet, though.

The car was a necessity. But I also bought the Bronica SQ-A I’ve been testing, which was definitely not a necessity.

So, I am committing to no more cameras for the rest of this year and for all of 2018. I pledge this. I mean it. I really mean it. To clarify, I mean I won’t buy any cameras for this period of time. Well, unless something happens, like if a critical camera breaks. Then I’d replace it. But that would be the only reason.

I really hope I stick to this. Maybe I will need reminders.

It’s also getting dark. And cold. Last weekend was supposed to be another collaboration with my friend Margi, who was going to meet me at the cottage and we were going to take more photos exploring movement in nature, but the weather didn’t cooperate and I had a shortage of ideas for indoor locations, so I cancelled. I went to the cottage on my own but Saturday was a bust, weather-wise. I wanted to give the Bronica a fair chance and I finally sorted out an issue with one of the film backs, so I ran a roll of film through on Saturday in a bit of rain.

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cornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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cornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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cornfield, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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corn and dried stalk, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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Little Sable Point, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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Little Sable Point, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

Sunday started gray and cold but the sky was dramatic and it wasn’t too windy and the blue even poked through the clouds every now and then, so I ran a second roll through the Bronica and finished up the roll I started in California on the Minolta.

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DANGER, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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the farmhouse, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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a little fall color, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

I’m forever inspired and amazed by these ghosts of old trees. The wind and sand buries and unburies them, topples and rights them, year after year. The landscape changes so dramatically. I love documenting this.

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driftwood on dune, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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driftwood on dune, Bronica SQ-A, Lomo 100 ISO

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growth, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus 200 ISO

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driftwood, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus 200 ISO

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toppled, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus 200 ISO

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trunk, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus 200 ISO

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relics, Minolta SRT 102, Kodak ColorPlus 200 ISO

Anyway. I’m excited to explore more with this camera and happy to be driving my new car, and not so happy about the impending shorter days and cold. But that’s life.