Forgotten Morning

Sometimes I forget just how beautiful the Lake Huron shoreline can be. Here's an image of an October morning in 2010, October 23 to be exact, that was one of those marble mornings with little wind. The horizon was an inky etching that outlined the start of the day. The sun's golden rays spilled out above the dark clouds onto the glassy surface of the water, almost as if the sun could not be contained.

The metadata on this file shows an image taken with my old Olympus. The original image size, 517 kilobytes, betrays my old photography mode of less megapixels and less intentionality. Photoshop was my new friend way back then and I definitely did not have the darkroom skills to manipulate images like I now possess.

Still, this forgotten morning shines. In Michigan we've come to call these images Pure Michigan, after the very successful Pure Michigan advertising campaign that promotes Michigan on billboards and in print and broadcast media. On Twitter they become #PureMichigan.

A marbled morning. A sunrise with a tinge of gold. I'll take that any day.

Winter Wheat

The winter wheat fields are velvet green this time of the year. Their defined rows of tiny plants contrast with the giant wind turbines. In the dull light of a fading afternoon the kettle gray turbines towers fade into the blurred skies of a late autumn day.

Stunned Chickadee

A chickadee flew against the kitchen windows twice while I was cooking on Sunday afternoon. He clung to the support of an outside lamp for quite some time. I grabbed my art journal and made a few lines that suggested the little bird's dilemma.

When I got to pen and ink and watercolor, the stunned look was gone. Instead this little bird looks quite at home, clinging to the lamp along the stone wall.

For the record, I walked outside after the bird hit the windows, trying to see what the bird saw. A strong reflection pattern, caused by the angle of the sun, must have confused the bird and caused the collision. After ten minutes or so of teetering on the lamp, he flew away.

Apple Tree Doe

Michigan's squirrels and deer are exceptionally fat this fall, thanks to the luscious crop of nuts and apples found along the road sides, in parks and woods, and in the front lawn. A very healthy doe has been showing up on a regular basis in our yard where the apples are strewn on the ground and still hanging in the trees.

There are several apple trees in the naturalized area along the lawns at Cedar Bluff. We don't spray the trees so most years the apples are quite wormy. This year, even with the pock marks on the fruit from the August 1st hailstorm, the apples are exceptional.

I really enjoy walking out to a tree, picking a fresh apple, and eating it. The juice from the white apple flesh just rolls down my cheeks, the apples are so good. So, I suppose that the deer are enjoying apple treats, too.

Artwork: Whoops

The Big Game in East Lansing between Michigan State and Michigan was on my brain when I took a moment last Friday morning for artwork. I knew that I had a stretch of fifteen or so minutes to spend, so I hauled out the big watercolor palette and went to work.






This pen and ink sketch, accented with watercolor, looked pretty good to me at this point. I liked the color and the shapes. "Not bad," I told myself.

In my weekend anticipation mode, I pulled a big WHOOPS when I decided to add a cast shadow in Payne's Gray to the composition. Then I figured that maybe the shadow could be overtaken by a double lined border. Then I thought, "Well, gee, Wanda, just add some background."

After I was done composing, and painting, and talking to myself, this was the end result -- a journal page with a big blob of gray.

It's how you learn, this practicing and knowing when there is a WHOOPS. Maybe I will paste something over the blob. Tissue paper, or a torn chunk of brown grocery sack paper. Even better, maybe that's where my ticket from the game should go, right over the gray blob, since Michigan State's undefeated Big Ten record is definitely brightening up the autumn football scene in this household!

Go State!

If I had my head on my shoulders I could find the MSU band hat that I'm wearing in this 1994 photo. I still have that hat, even though it is a tad bit worn out!

Today is Michigan Day when all of Michigan (well, a lot of Michigan) directs attention toward whichever stadium is hosting the big game. The University of Michigan will travel from Ann Arbor to East Lansing today to take on the Spartans of Michigan State University at 3:30 pm at Spartan Stadium.

It's always a big, big deal for those of us who are fans of both teams. We'll be in our usual seats, just around the corner from the south end zone, cheering for the Spartans and following the SMB, Spartan Marching Band, from their practice field to Spartan Stadium.

Here's hoping for good weather and a Spartan victory. (Sorry, John and Don.)

Go State!

All Saints' Day at My Desk

On this All Saints' Day 2013 I'm at my desk that I set up to care for the correspondence that needed to be done after my father, the Reverend Stanley C. F. Hayes, died in early May. There have been cards and gifts that I have responded to, letters for financial matters, pieces of historical information to record, and thank you notes to write.

Most of that work has been completed and I am about ready to move the paperwork into the large shoe box file that now holds all of the sympathy cards and other paperwork from my supervision of his funeral week. It has been a lot to care for, but it has been a wonderful time of remembering, and I have had the support and help of all of my sisters and my brother.

Sometimes I have stopped to move over to my computer and print out a photo from a file that we call "Stan's Slides." My sister, MB Hayes, scanned lots of Dad's 35 mm slides into a digital file. I have called upon those images often as I have written notes to people and thought about how much they would enjoy seeing a photo from the past. The scans date back to the early 1950's, so they are a treasure.

For my father's clergy colleagues, I have sometimes included a copy of a photo of the committal service (for those of you who are not part of a clergy family, the committal service is recited at the graveside by a clergyperson) that we think Dad had memorized. I found it, neatly folded, in one of his little black service books in his desk. Several of Dad's colleagues have even taken the time to let me know how much they appreciated having this piece of Dad's ministry.

When you grow up in a parsonage, you learn that you often come in second. Others come first. Your clergy parent is often out the door to take care of the needs of a parishioner or to write a sermon or to make hospital calls or conduct a service here or there. I grew up wishing that my Dad could be my Dad more often. As a matter of fact, that's why I did not want him officiating at my wedding ceremony. Lots of people could officiate; only one could be Dad.

Those feelings, while they still exist as memory, have been shoved aside as I have moved through the process of dealing with correspondence in these last six months. There are a few notes to write yet; I saved the most important ones for the last. And there are names of people who came to the visitation or sent a gift to the food pantry whose addresses I am still hunting for. That search, with the help of some Wisconsin contacts, will soon be over.

Now comes the saintly part, that of remembering both my mother and my father for the wonderful human beings and kind parents that they were. Those memories, and they just keep coming, will sustain the moments when I still wish they both were here. I think of my mother-in-law who died in September that way, too, and know that for my husband Ed and his sibs, the work of grieving and remembering is only beginning.

So, on All Saints' Day, I can truly give thanks "for all the saints who from their labors rest," these good people who have gone before, those saints who, this year especially, are my saints.

Stan, and Val, and dear Pauline -- I miss you so.