Michigan

 

Yates

The freshly colored flora combined with the crisp smell of Autumn in the air. Gazing at the paper bag made translucent with spots of oil seeping from the warm cinnamon inside. Bees are buzzing around cold and unpasteurized cider in a white styrofoam cup. Drink. Cold. Warm donut, mmm. The cold bite of the Michigan air tingles your skin and the smell reminds you of tires swinging. You look at the gravel beneath you and a vivid memory of your childhood flashes before your eyes. For this one brief moment, you are in Heaven. Nothing happens.

Yates Cider Mill, Rochester Hills, MI.

 

 

lumber

Following high-tension power lines along a path less traveled, you hike from the Monument to a sheer sand cliff and gazing straight down, in your face is a massive collection of deep blue water. Gravity is king here, you quickly realize. 200 feet of sandy cliff won’t break your fall if a twig decides to tease your ankle and threatens to expose you for the sinewy mass of tendons you truly are. You decide that life is too short for such petty concerns and you forcefully kick your legs out in front of you, letting gravity accelerate you downwards. For the next 45 seconds, you feel more alive than you ever remember feeling. As your still accelerating form splashes into the refreshing water, you can only describe the feeling as pure white-hot joy. Your motion finally halted, brushing the wet hair from your face, you stare up the dune and wonder to yourself how fast your calves will let you climb…

 

Lumberman’s Monument, Oscoda County, MI.

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One response to “Michigan

  1. Love your writing style…and your pictures.

    Blessings,

    shirley Buxton
    http://www.writenow.wordpress.com

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