Mary Beth Writes

I grew up outside Ludington Michigan. My parents owned property bounded by a creek, the river it emptied into, the rim of a woods, and a dirt road.  It was a beautiful and I would rather have my memories of that lovely place than almost other inheritance else I can think of.  A kid who knows what water sounds like as it babbles over her chilly barefoot feet, the power of storms in tall trees, the way it feels to make channels and rivers in a muddy driveway in the spring, waking up to a world embroidered with snow. She’s a lucky kid who becomes a lucky adult.

Yesterday it snowed six inches here in Waukesha and we woke up to a world embroidered with snow. 

Len and I drove out into it this morning.  I have another messy cold so my pockets were stocked with hankies and cough drops. But when the snow is like this, one can’t wait too long.

The snow on our garage first tnhing this morning.

We drove to Lapham Peak.

From the observation tower. 

You go to bed in one kind of a world and if it snows, you wake up in another.

Comments

So pretty. I don’t miss the snow in Indiana but, the brightness sure beats the grayness we’ve been having. You should have used the picture of u and Len!
Mary Beth's picture

I would have had to drag that pix on Len's phone from text to my email to my photos through Photoshop to the save in the file for this posting and then here. Dragging anything that far kills it....

Gorgeous photos! I thoroughly enjoyed the snow, too.

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Quarantine Diary #112 7/3/2020 The View From Here, Now

I just checked the comments on my website. I get a few wacko ones most days that are in Greek or Russian, or are porno invites. I delete them. Part of the shtick when running a website outside the hosted sites.

And here, right here on a Friday evening, is this good comment from one of you, 

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I was quietly sitting here, just writing, when I heard yelling. I looked up and there was Modern America Right Here Right Now, in front of my house.

Cops had a car pulled over and were yelling at someone to come out. A black man with dreadlocks got out, hands in air, protesting and arguing to the cops. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but he was arguing respectfully. I heard his “Sir” several times. He was not swearing that I could hear.

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One afternoon I overheard my dad complaining to my mom about schoolteachers. I suppose they were having a busy week in the print shop when a teacher from the high school dropped off, late in the day, a print job that needed to be completed in less time than was convenient. I’m guessing it was the school newspaper.

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