Trail 9

It seems that every time I hike a new trail at the Dunes, I dub it my new favorite trail.  I had heard about Trail 9 for a while and yesterday we finally had a chance to hike it for ourselves.

The trail began by winding its way through the tranquility of a spacious forest.  It just felt so good to be outdoors, breathing fresh air and surrounded by the quiet of tall, bare trees like sentinels standing at attention while we strode by.

For a January day in Northwest Indiana, you couldn't have asked for better.  As the trail emerged onto the crest of a tall sand dune, we were met with sunny, bright blue skies stretching over that beautiful calm lake. Ice bergs dotted the blue water for as far as our eyes could see and shelf ice lined the edges where a summertime beach was hidden.  The wind was minimal, lazily tossing about the grasses and any dried oak leaves that were left behind.

The view from the top of a Lake Michigan sand dune always takes my breath away.

A Resolution of sorts . . .

I don't make New Year's resolutions.  I think that any day of the year is a good day to do something new, break a habit or set a goal should I be physically, mentally or spiritually ready.

For the last few years we have started out the new year with a New Year's hike and this year I was able to squeeze one in. Although it took place the day after New Year's Day, I still think it counts.

It was about three in the afternoon when my daughter and I headed to Coffee Creek Watershed Preserve and we knew that the winter sun wasn't going to be with us for very long. The temperature was a little colder than we had planned, but the area was quiet and peaceful, the waning light was beautiful and my daughter and I could catch up on each other's lives.   We finished up the hike watching a herd of deer lazily graze in the twilight.

Looking ahead, our 2016 calendar is already marked with camping weekends and hiking excursions, planning to explore more of the trails in Indiana and our neighboring states this year.  So it's time to strengthen those legs and knees, get that backpack ready and lace up those boots because ready or not, 2016 - here we come!

Sounds of Life

Last Sunday in church the message centered around having children in our midst and returning to a child-like faith. I couldn't help but think of the family photo session I'd had the day before.   As a photographer, taking photos of children is one of my favorite things to do because they are so genuine, honest and real.   Many times, however, I'm exhausted by the end of the session and after my gear is all tucked back into my car and I am driving away, I can't help but wonder if I've captured any photos worth using.

When I scrolled through last Saturday's photos, this one instantly became one of my favorites.  I love the pure joy on that little boy's face.  Oh to have that much fun just because!

I have noticed that, especially in my street photography, I tend to capture the simplicity and uninhibited wonder of children.  Sometimes they are almost unnoticeable but sometimes they are miniature whirlwinds of activity and noise - my minister called this the "sound of life," and I think that description sums it up perfectly. I'll choose the sounds of life every time.

Memories in the woods

There is something about going for a walk in an Indiana forest that takes me back more years than I would like to admit.  The musty-sweet smell, the call of bluejays in the trees, the breeze causing leaves to dip and float from their lofty heights down to the sandy floor, the peacefulness of being out in the woods - sensations that trigger memories of a ten-year old girl, fresh off of the city streets of Chicago for a Girl Scout camping weekend in what we surely thought was a wilderness adventure.   Twice each year, we had the chance to build campfires, tell scary stories, blaze trails through the forest, get lost and then get found again.  It was where I learned folks songs around a fire, how to get toasted marshmallows off a whittled stick so they could be squished between layers of graham crackers and chocolate bars, how to extract our boots from spring mud and how to use stones and sticks to mark a new trail for others to follow.   That young girl would have been pleased to know that this grown-up version lives close enough to walk these forests as often as she can . . . . and remember.

Acadia Cairns - Guiding the Way

Hiking closer to the top of Dorr Mountain in Acadia National Park off the coast of Maine, we found the path and vegetation give way to dense fog and the pink granite rock for which Acadia is known.

What we found as our hike brought us near the top are Acadia Cairns, strategically placed stacked rocks designed to show hikers the way across long stretches of barren landscape.

I was so intrigued by these little formations that I did some research when I returned back home. The word cairn is Scottish meaning "a pile of stones" and the tradition of building cairns to mark the trail for hikers is universal and hundreds of years old.  I found out that there are several different styles of cairns. The ones found on Acadia's trails are called Bates Cairns, named for Waldron Bates, who developed the simplistic style of two to four stones creating "legs," a mantle stone bridging the legs and one smaller stone on top to point the way.  Sadly park rangers have recognized the need to post a sign at the trailhead asking hikers not to dismantle, alter or build new cairns.  It seems in recent years, vandalized cairns have been on the rise, causing environmental and safety concerns for hikers.

Not only was I completely taken by the charm of the cairns - I probably took about twenty photos of them from different vantage points - I was thankful they were there, beckoning us across the granite and eventually leading us back to the semblance of a trail that would take us back down the other side of the mountain.   What reassurance those piles of stones provided - Don't we all sometimes need the comfort of knowing that if we become unsure of the way, we can rely on the directional markers of those who have gone before.

Go To The Ballpark

If you ever feel the need to restore your faith in humanity, go to the ballpark.   My husband and I went to Wrigley Field yesterday afternoon for an afternoon of baseball Northside Chicago style. The day started out rainy and gray but by the time the first pitch was thrown, the sun was shining and it was a beautiful afternoon for a baseball game.

As the ballpark filled and time grew closer to hearing the familiar words "Play Ball" shouted into a microphone by two very excited young boys in blue t-shirts, I began to notice a wonderful phenomenon happening all around me.   Fans and ushers alike offered to help couples and friends and families take pictures to commemorate their day at the game.  It was evident that the usher responsible for getting handicapped fans and visitors settled into their section to the right and left of our seats behind home plate loved his job.   This man smiled and laughed and rearranged seating to make sure each visitor would have the best experience possible and half-way through the game, he returned to check on his new friends, offering thumbs up as a sign that they were comfortable and enjoying the afternoon.


Strangers passed money along rows from buyers to vendors and passed back to purchasing fans bags of peanuts, bottles of water and cups of beer.  High fives were shared for a home run.  Cheers went up for a fan in the upper deck who caught a foul ball with his bare hands.

There was a capacity crowd at the ballpark yesterday. By and large, there was also a capacity of good will, kind gestures and mutual joy in sharing not only the love of the game, but a few hours of sunshine and hopefulness and release from the world outside the friendly confines.  Oh, and by the way . . . the Cubs won.

The County Fair -

July in Indiana means hot, steamy days, acres of tall corn tasseling out, fields strewn with freshly baled hay, cloudless blue skies and county fairs.   Although I have never raised or shown animals at the fair - the 4-H days of my past were full of sewing projects, freezing and canning of fruits and vegetables, and home interior projects - I have wonderful memories watching my daughter, nieces, nephews and friends prepare and compete with horses, dogs, swine and steer for that Grand Champion prize.  These young people spend countless hours learning about, feeding, and working with their animals.   It is wonderful to watch the bond of friendship, admiration and respect that grows between them.

During my visit to the Porter County Fair last week, we stopped in at the livestock auction on Thursday night in the Steer Barn, and I was fortunate to capture this photo of a young lady waiting patiently towards the back of the arena.   Every once in a while the steer would throw back its head and call out a loud, low moo to show its disapproval at having to stand and wait, and each time the young girl would talk to the animal, coo, rub its back and even plant a kiss on the top of its head for reassurance.

It goes without saying that at the end of the night, with all the steers auctioned off, this young lady probably never saw this steer again.  There's a lesson there, too, somewhere that these young people learn. Next spring they will start all over with a new calf, piglet, rabbit, goat, or other show animal and they will meet back here in July at the county fair.