Memoirous

 Colors of the Sky   early morning the sky is dishwater grey the sun is coming later and later in near darkness I start the kettle and set out my cup with one tea sachet Where does the time go, the end September, almost October   in one burst Jack pushes open the door Grandma! Grandma! Come look at the colors!   Together we stand on the deck and watch the sky change from bruise purple to mauve to butter clouds scatter revealing a tablecloth of blue   Wow! Where does the time go? photo by Lyda Jackson, Lake Michigan, Chicago lakefront, colors of the sky provided by Helene, the storm that ravaged the southeast US

I reported that last weekend me and my grandson went to cheer on runners at the Capital City River Run. It reminded me of early mornings, getting up before the sun is up to go downtown for the Chicago Marathon. Either to run or support runners. We had a support tent for Run for Change—runners raising money for Cornerstone Community Outreach, the homeless shelter I volunteered at. I’ve been asked to be lead bike for the Autumn Classic taking place Sept. 29 for the 5K—a little over 3 miles. Again, I’ll have to get up early and ride to the start line. I’m a little anxious, as I’ve never done this before, but I’m certain I’ll be able to stay ahead of the lead runners. Anna, who talked to me about the event, explained many of the participants are walking it. I love being part of these events. The comradery is infectious—making all those there want to keep moving. Keep moving!

We’ve left summer—officially, though the heat persists. Mornings are cool and the sun rises later. At 7 a.m. it barely breaks through. Despite the progression of time, we’re still stuck here in the routine of daily living: Kids that don’t sleep through the night Trying to keep several plates spinning at once Meal planning Managing multiple schedules (see plates) Add to the above apple picking and corn mazes. Yesterday my grandson and I were up and out early for the Capital City River Run to cheer on participants and co-workers. He kept saying to me, “We’re leaving in the dark?” The sun rose while driving. After helping set up, we ate doughnuts and pumpkin muffins while waiting for the runners. It was the only time we encouraged Jack to be loud; he also had use of a whistle and cowbell. Great fun! We look forward to campfires and falling leaves.

  Follow up--using public transportation Wednesday September 11, 2024, 4 miles (6 km) - Total so far: 103 miles (166 km) 1) using Indian Trails motor coach to get to Traverse City: I experienced NO problems, The first driver who picked me up in East Lansing was a curmudgeon. He complained that my bike took up half his bin. Not true. I had ridden the ten minutes to get to the bus stop with a bbq grill cover rolled up and bungeed to the back of my bike. Load in was easy. There was no baggage put on top of the bike--though it had to lay down in the bin (not upright). I made sure the gear-side was up. In Grand Rapids we changed drivers, but I did not have to transfer. All in all, it was a longish trip, but I could sit back and relax and read a book. Once in Traverse City, I did the reverse, rolled up the cover and was on my way in less than 5 minutes to my host's house. On Indian Trails you do not have to pay extra for the bike nor check a box when ordering tickets indicating you are b

  Leelanau Trail and Old Mission Peninsula (east arm of Traverse Bay) Tuesday September 10, 2024, 60 miles (97 km) - Total so far: 99 miles (159 km) I did A LOT of riding today and am seriously tired. I haven't done this many daily miles in about 3 months, plus temps climbed to 84 this afternoon. All this to say I did a killer couple of rides in one day. First, I started at 8:30 again at the BATA station taking the route 10 bus up to Sutton's Bay. I quickly got sorted to a public restroom, a trail map, and the actual start of the trail. It was a relaxing, event free 17 miles. Very pastoral, no big climbs, but also no views of the bay. You had no idea you were on a peninsula surrounded by water. It was mostly orchards, honeybee meadows, and forest. I certainly didn't overheat with so much nice shade. Then I made my way through Traverse City. The waterfront street and accompanying bike trail are torn up due to construction. So I had to follow detour signs and use a combinati

  Monday September 9, 2024, 35 miles (56 km) - Total so far: 39 miles (63 km) What a wonderful day! I had no idea how some of this was going to work out as far as bus schedule, distances, room for the bike. You see the bus only takes 3 bikes and knowing this is a popular tourist destination plus the Heritage Trail, I wanted to be early. I was very excited and got to the BATA station a half hour before departure. I was the only one there. The bus, Route 11, took an hour to get to Glen Arbor. It was not immediately apparent where to pick up the trail. I finally saw a lone cyclist (it was 9:30 a.m. a bit early as it is past the season) and he told me where to go. Everything was well-signed and easy. At Glen Haven I met Mary also a newbie on the trail. I said I didn't know how much time it would take to get to Empire and if I'd need more water. She seemed to think one bottle was enough. I thought it was 20 miles to Empire, 40 round trip. I was there in maybe 10 miles. We rode toget

  Indian Trails bus, East Lansing to Traverse City Sunday September 8, 2024, 4 miles (6 km) - Total so far: 4 miles (6 km) I rode to the bus stop in E.Lansing on the Lansing River Trail. When I got there I took the tarp we use for the grill off the back of the bike and covered it. Indian Trails does not charge extra for the bike. Their only requirement is that it be boxed or bagged. The grill cover worked perfectly. The first driver was a Barney Fife kind of stickler. He complained to me that the bike took up half of one of his storage bins. I'm thinking . . .so? . . . because the bus is half empty, so too, the bays under the bus. After Grand Rapids there was maybe only 8 of us on the big motor coach. The second driver was much more chill. Then there were 4 passengers--possibly less, as I got left at the MacDonald dinner stop. No joke. We all got off and I went in, bought a hamburger, and came out with my bag--no bathroom, no side trip--the bus was gone. I was confounded, thinking

About this time last year I was prepping for my trip to Switzerland/Germany/Rhine River Bike Ride— This year, my bus trip to Traverse City and biking around Sleeping Bear Dunes. I’ve always maintained a nature shelf. My daughter now has one for both her children. I change things out as the seasons change. I can see from the mementos on the shelf and various ephemera bike trips I’ve made through the years. In 2016 I made a fall trip from John of Groats in the northernmost of the UK down to Land’s End in Cornwall. In 2014 I made a trip over to Sweden to visit friends, which included a hapless backpacking jaunt and biking around Gotland—an island off the mainland. I love looking at my postcards and small finds. The word souvenir comes from the French meaning a thing that is kept as a reminder of a person, place, or event. to remember, come First recorded in 1775 as meaning “a remembrance or memory,” the noun souvenir stems from the French souvenir “to remember, come to mind.” A

This morning temps were in the low 50s and it’s only just September. Last night we had a fire in our fire pit. It was Labor Day and so a holiday, a nice three-day weekend where my son-in-law worked in the ER and Grace and I were home with the children. Nevertheless, I got out on a long bike ride Labor Day morning where the sky was perfectly clear. An azure blue tablecloth stretching above. I did about 34 miles. Almost every day I take my grandson out on the bike with the trailer attached. We ride the bike paths around Okemos and Lake Lansing. This summer I hosted a couple of cyclists from Oregon who began riding in Minot, ND to Pittsburgh, PA. I know, random. Anyway, when they stayed in my Tiny House I could tell they were nostalgic for their own grandchildren, they reminisced with me of visits with them and also wishing for a Tiny House close by to family. All this reminds me, be grateful. As we sit around the fire and eat marshmellow-less s’mores and read stories and watch t

When we ride bikes around the “block” we pass a house with a fairy garden by their mailbox. Fairy Garden can be a loose term either meaning lawn ornaments to those who go all in and indulge their fantasies. We’re still cultivating the imagination. Jack chose the spot—a crook at the base in between two trees growing together. He has positioned the little houses and knickknacks on a bark terrace and clustered together into a fairy “town” of which he is a kind of mayor. He’ll show it off, but hasn’t quite fallen into a state of belief that they are anything more than decorative. At this point, a real toy has wheels, moves, functions. On this rainy morning he is loving his marble run, pointing out to me how the marbles race along the spiraling track, through gates and various wheels into holes, vertical drops, into a basket at the bottom. We’ll do it over and over, until I make a break back to my Tiny House. A kind of Fairy Garden.