traveling up and down the blind highway

As I finished the last of the holiday baking, I caught sight of a single squirrel scampering on the back porch. He jumped up onto the bench to get a drink of water from a heated bird bath. He headed for the bird feeders to search for a snack.
Several years ago, I had the bright idea I would construct a gingerbread house for the wildlife. The walls and roof were made of three year old cookie rectangles. John glued the pieces together with super glue. Once the house was finished, I started the decorating.
First the outside was coated with lard and peanut butter. Bird seed sprinkled on the top to give the feeling of texture and color to the roof. The windows were etched with black sunflower seeds. Final touches of a wreath of pretzel pieces on the door and mini-marshmallows around the edge of the walls.
We put it out on Christmas Day to see how the birds and Squirrels would respond. They avoided the new object but the smell of peanut butter attracted the squirrels.
Day after day the house was eaten. First went the sugar and salt. Then the seeds on the roof. Finally the edges of the roof and walls were chewed. One morning, I looked out to see a fat squirrel sitting inside the cookie house chewing on a back wall. A heavy rain that evening put an end to the house.
I smiled as I looked up to see the squirrel watching me. Opening the cabinet, I found a couple of walnuts. Smiling , I tossed them to the squirrel.
“Here is something that is good for you. “
He sat , waiting for more.
“Ok, is this what you want?”
I rolled a pfeffernusse cookie across the porch floor. He scurried to retrieve the cookie and the nuts, I thought,”Once exposed to sugar, they can smell it,”
Below is the audio file of the family recipe for Pfeffernusse spicy cookie balls. They can be enjoyed by more that the squirrels.

John’s grandmother came to America in the late eight hundreds with her family. They were looking for a better life for themselves and opportunities for their children. They settled in the Detroit area to raise their family. The family expanded and produced many branches. One of the branches was John’s grandmother , Helen. She taught the three girls to make many recipes and Polish dishes. These dishes were served for the holidays.
As a new wife, I witnessed the productive efficiency of Christmas cookie creation. One person rolled the dough, another cut out the cookies with cutting forms. The third scooped up the cookie and slid them on to a baking sheet. This cookie must have been a favorite. Some of the recipes made many dozens of cookies. As the cookies age, the texture changes from a hard to a soft chewy confection. The best flavor peaks in two to three weeks. They are stored in a tight container.
John noted that his mother had to hide some of the batch so there would be cookies for the holidays. You may ask,”How many cookies does one family of five people need.”
In john’s moms family there were six children, three boys and three girls. The parties started with Christmas Eve at Grandpa’s house going through New Year’s Eve. Each family hosted a dinner with family members bringing more food to share.
Grandpa Smolinski made kielbasa a traditional polish sausage. He ground the meat, added spices to the raw meat then stuffed the mixture into sausage skins. The sausages were hung to age before cooking. John’s mom and dad picked New Years to host the gathering.
One year, there was an ice storm late that night. Many of the family stayed overnight to avoid the ice until the streets were cleared. John recalls letting his dog, Mike out the back door to relieve himself. Mike, slid from the back steps, across the drive finally stopping in a snow pile. Neither the people nor the dogs went out again that evening.
The family members moved farther from each other. The gatherings were dropped except for Christmas Eve at Aunt Laurie’s and Uncle Joe’s. Unexpected guests were given gifts reserved for such an occasion. I found out about this when we stopped there on Christmas Eve with our young daughter. Ruth even received a special toy from Santa himself in person.
The joy and sharing of these memories remind us of the importance of family, church and community for immigrants to America. As I knead the cookie dough and cut the shapes of circles, bells and trees, the tradition of gathering and sharing the goodness of the past year mingles with retrieved memories.
Whatever special foods are in your childhood, try to make and serve them as a tribute to those who have gone before us. The lemon/anise recipe is below.

Springerle (Anise ) Cookies
Preheat oven to 350 Degrees
4 eggs
One pond powdered sugar
One teaspoon lemon extract
4 cups flour
One teaspoon baking powder
In a 1/4 cup very hot water
Two teaspoons anise flavoring
3 tablespoons anise seed
Beat eggs until light and fluffy . Stir in sugar, beat until combined then add lemon , anise and anise
seed . Mix flour and baking powder and add to mix
Cool the dough in the refrigerator for one hour.
Roll out to 3/8th thick and cut into desired shapes.
Put on greased cookie sheets or parchment paper . Bake for 12 to 15 minutes . When cool store in a
covered container for 2 to 3 weeks before serving.
Makes three dozen cookies.

December 12th 2022
carolaspot@aol.com

I am reminded of the holiday song,”It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” John and I started early to shop, write cards and finishing baking. We have peanut brittle, springerles , a lemon/anise cookie, Christmas rockies, a date/ nut cookie and Chinese stonies or phefernuse a spicy ball . The home aroma changes with each cookie batch.
John started this baking frenzy creating two loaves of bread shaped like a turkey in profile. The head, feathers and feet were painted with gel food coloring, egg whites and heavy cream. See below for our first attempt. The second one was eaten too fast to get a photo.
The Christmas rockies, Chinese stonies and springerles are from John’s childhood. My family made sugar cookies cut out with a donut cutter. My mom decorated them with green frosting around the circle. Small red cinnamon hearts completed the effect of a wreath.
For many years, John has made many batches of peanut brittle. Recently, he has expanded to produce pumpkin seed and cashew brittle. We distribute the goodies to family and friends.
I am the official taste taster. I try samples of each batch. This was formerly John’s mother’s responsibility. Helen took her job seriously. She would take several samples before her approval was given.
We are rewarded with the smiles and thanks for our baking efforts. My brother Brian will open his brittle to take the first piece. At 62, he is still a kid when it comes to sugar. Last week, he called to ask us if we hid his brittle after our Thanksgiving visit. We informed him that he must wait until nearer to Christmas, Brian was placated with the box of chocolates we left behind.
At the end of the blog is one of the recipes I mentioned. The turkey is the first recipe to be served . Happy baking!

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Turkey Bread recipe

3/4 cup whole milk

Two 1/4-ounce packages active dry yeast (4 1/2 teaspoons)

1/3 cup granulated sugar

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus more for serving

3 large eggs, at room temperature

4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting (see Cook’s Note)

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/4 cup heavy cream

Red gel food coloring

Yellow gel food coloring

Orange gel food coloring

2 milk chocolate chips
Heat the milk in a small saucepan until it just begins to simmer, then remove from the heat and let cool to 115 degrees F. Stir in the yeast and let stand until the mixture is foamy, about 10 minutes.
Pour the yeast mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. Add the sugar, butter and 2 of the eggs and stir until smooth. Add the flour and salt and mix on medium-low speed until the dough comes together. Increase the speed to medium high and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes. Transfer the dough to a lightly greased large bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let stand until the dough doubles in size, about 1 hour.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line the back of a baking sheet with parchment. Whisk together the heavy cream and remaining egg for an egg wash.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Roll the dough into an 11-inch circle.
For the neck and head: Using shears, cut a 6-inch slit from the top of the circle down the left side of the circle, 1 inch in from the side. Pinch in 4 inches from the top of the dough strip. The top of the strip will be the turkey head and the bottom will be the neck. Fold the head over the top of the neck. Adjust and refine the neck and head shapes by slightly thinning the neck and pressing the head into a rounder, flatter shape, pulling the tip of the dough out to create a pointed beak.
For the wings, wattle and feet: Trim off a 7-by-2-inch strip of dough from the bottom right edge of the dough curve. Cut the strip into 6 long triangles. Form 4 of them into long teardrop shapes for the wings and wattle. Make feet from the 2 remaining triangles by cutting 2 short slits on the short ends of the triangles. Pinch and slightly stretch the 3 dough strips on each triangle to make toes. Set the feet, wings and wattle aside.
For the tail feathers: Working along the top two-thirds of the dough circle, use kitchen shears to snip 1-inch-wide strips of dough down toward the middle of the circle (sort of like rays of the sun). Make 2 shallow snips into each strip so that they form spikes; the spikes should point outward to the edge of the circle. Pinch the ends of each feather to a point.
For the coloring: Brush the turkey head, neck and body–but not the tail feathers–with the egg wash. Divide the remaining egg wash among three bowls and color them red, orange, and yellow with food coloring.
Brush 2 of the reserved teardrop shapes with the red egg wash. Tuck the narrow end of 1 red teardrop under the turkey head for the wattle (it will sit on the neck). Put aside the second red teardrop.
Brush the 2 remaining teardrops orange and yellow. Arrange the orange, yellow and remaining red teardrops in a fan to make a wing. Place the wing on the turkey near the base of the neck.
Brush the 2 feet with the yellow egg wash and tuck them under the body at the bottom of the circle. Brush the tip of the turkey’s beak with the yellow egg wash. Brush the tips of the turkey tail feathers with yellow egg wash. Brush the center of the feathers with the orange wash. And brush the base of the feathers with the red wash, making sure the lines are in an arc.
Bake until the bread is slightly golden brown and cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes. While the bread is still warm, press the chocolate chips into the face of the turkey to make eyes. Let the bread cool for 10 minutes on the baking sheet then transfer to a serving platter. Serve warm with butter

Below is a link to a video about forming the turkey
https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/turkey-bread-5266307

My younger brother Brian and his wife Ann hosted the annual family gathering this Thanksgiving. It was a combination of vegan and traditional dishes. The meal featured wild rice soup, cornbread pudding, roasted Brussels Sprouts and cheesy mashed potatoes. My husband made a turkey shaped bread loaf for the kids table. Yes, we had 5 children under 8.
I recall past Thanksgiving meals where the Heatley side of the family gathered the day before at Grandma and Grandpa’s home. The table was so long that it extended from the dining area into the living room beyond. Each family sat together rather than having a children’s table. I recall many cousins around the table.
On Thanksgiving day, we gathered either at Grandpa and Grandma Turnbull’s home or in later years at our home for the meal. The main meal was served at halftime and the dessert and coffee was delayed until the end of the game. The game was the Detroit Lions vs the Chicago Bears. Each Thanksgiving, I would set the table while Great Aunt Pearl, and Grandma would prepare the meal. My Mother and Aunt Marian stayed out of their way in the small kitchen. My Mom would wash cooking dishes as they were used then discarded.
As a child, I thought that the meal took forever to place on the table. My stomach growled as I waited for the extended Thanksgiving prayer to conclude. I went for the olives first. It didn’t matter if they were black or green. Next I scooped up a large helping of turkey stuffing.
One year, Aunt Pearl brought a goose for my mother to prepare. It had been in her freezer for a long time. Neither she nor my mother had a clue how goose should be prepared. It turned out to be very greasy and chewy. That year, we ate vegetarian.
This year, the meal was cooked by seven different cooks. Clay Drake and his brother Tray provided the turkey.
Twelve adults and five children shared the feast.
I noticed that the family all talked at once, making it difficult to follow and listen to each speaker. I gave up and smiled while petting one of Ann’s dogs. Several voices were distinctive to be understood over the others. I did my best to remain alert , but I must have dosed a bit.
The salad and then the courses were brought to each person at the table. This may have been due to the tightness of the seating.
Feeling for the silverware, glasses and dishes, I orientated what was in my area. I made it successfully through the salad, soup and main courses. We had dessert after a short break to clean up the dishes.
I returned to the family room near the fire.
“Aunt Carol, you are the oldest family of the family” quipped my niece .
“How did that Happen?” I mused
My childhood memories tumbled down with a reality check. I was the oldest family member there and the oldest woman in the family.
“Where was brother Bob when I needed him?”

Next year, I will be sure to have one of my older brothers on hand. mean while I will enjoy the blending of the generations, hugging each of my family members. I am blessed. Happy Holidays.
carolaspot@aol.com copyright November 29, 2022

Our weather is perfect for the hunters this year. There is six to eight inches of snow on the ground with more expected. The snow makes it easier to track a wounded deer. Michigan’s Dept. of Natural Resources has reported 150,000 deer have been harvested state wide.
I wish to thank my brothers for comments relating to other hunting stories. I am grateful for their memories.
Bob reported he recalled Grandpa Turnbull had the deer hides tanned for future use. Bob and Craig remembered receiving deer hide gloves ,that were sewn for each boy. I never received gloves, but my mother sewed a purse for me from the last of the hides.
The hides were a soft brown and felt similar to a chamois cloth. I loved to rub my hand over the skin, imagining the beautiful animal it was from.
Both brothers related the last fishing trip Grandpa Heatley and my Dad took. Grandpa was more of a fisherman. He wanted to go fishing later in his life. He and my Dad traveled to the Upper Peninsula to fish. The trip took many hours. By the time they arrived, Grandpa was too stiff and sore to get into the boat. They came home without getting the last chance to fish.
Craig told the story of Dad’s last hunting trip. John’s family owned a farm of 110 acres. He wanted to hunt one more time like his father and father in law. Craig took him to the farm and situated him near a harvested corn field , in a sheltered blind to hunt. Dad was across the road in another field.
Craig saw a deer and fired, he thought he wounded him. When he tracked the deer, the deer was gone. There was some fur but no blood.
Hearing a shot from across the street, Craig saw his excited dad hurrying towards him.
“I got one! Come quick!”
When Craig examined the deer, there was a crease from a bullet on his right shoulder.
The deer had been shot by both father and son. Dad got the bragging rights and Craig got most of the meat.
Grandpa Heatley had a deer head in his barber shop on display. I don’t know if one of the Grandpa’s shot it. But it was on display for many years. I remember touching the glass eyes and wondering if they were real. The deer seemed sad to end up as a fixture in a barber shop. I never heard a story about the mounted head.
Hunting season will end after Thanksgiving. The deer and I will both rejoice.

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Girls hunting trip

Every year, my dad and brothers went deer hunting.
My mother would take me to Detroit to the large Hudson’s department store.
Driving to five points, we then caught the bus to downtown.
The store had sixteen floors, in different themes.
My favorite floor was one that was devoted to children shopping for their family members.
No parents were allowed. all the gifts were priced under five dollars.
I would browse, looking for the perfect gift for my mom.
No cheap dime store perfume for her.
After shopping, we rode the elevator to the restaurant .
I always ordered clam chowder.
It was a whole day event

Carolfarn@aol.com
Copyright Nov. 21st ,2022

Winter with a Vengeance November 14, 2022 342 words

This week we awoke to rain/ snow showers, winds up to 24 miles per hour and clouds. This is in sharp contrast to the mild sunny 70’s from the week before.

My husband must feel the change. He found the water heater for the bird’s water. This keeps the water from freezing in the coldest temperatures. Yesterday, John came home with a large bag of sunflower seeds.

His reasoning was,” they were on sale.”

He is worried for the wild life.

To add to the concerns, deer hunting starts tomorrow.

The deer will be on the run and unpredictable. I think that it is unfair to hunt animals that have mating on their minds.

The turkeys haven’t been seen for several weeks. I hope they survived their hunting season in October.

Though I have never hunted, I come from a family that hunted. My dad and older brothers would go out to the Upper Peninslula of Michigan to stay at Warners cabins. One of my favorite stories Dad told was the last time he and Grandpa went hunting together.

Grandpa had suffered two heart attacks. He still wanted to go deer hunting one more time. Dad drove him up to a place they had hunted for years.

Dad drove Grandpa as close to the shelter in the woods so there was little walking from the road. In the shelter, dad supplied a blanket, folding chair and a holder to prop the rifle pointing at the deer path. Supplied with a thermos of hot coffee, grandpa assured his son he had all he needed.

“If you need me, shoot your rifle three times and I’ll come to find you.”

“Bruce, I will be fine. Give me a couple of hours to hunt.”

So dad walked the trails in a circle, never out of hearing rifle shots. When he returned to check his dad, he was surprised to find grandpa finishing the last of his coffee and a 6 point buck dressed and hanging in a near by tree.

“Dad, how did you shoot and dress the deer?”

He knew that the deer was too heavy for grandpa to hoist into the tree for dressing. He had not heard the three shot signal to indicate that grandpa needed his son.

“Well Bruce, I was looking out the rifle hole when the buck ran down the deer run.”

“I lifted my rifle automatically and took aim, got him in the heart.”

Later another hunter who was tracking the same deer appeared and was surprised to find Grandpa and the dead deer.

They struck a deal, The hunter would dress and hang the deer to bleed out. Grandpa would put his tag on the deer and allow the other hunter to claim it. My grandpa wanted to show his son that he could still hunt and bring down the venison.

That was the last time they hunted together. Grandpa died the next February. I don’t recall other hunting stories. This was special because father and son shared a time together.

***

The Scare

I look out on a moonless night to hear the wind rattle the last of the hanging leaves.

The unseen voices of living things lost in the night remember better days.

Pausing at the edge of the porch to discern movements on the hill.

Goblin, spirit or evening mist to emerge?

Instead a deer with one antler weary from fall mating searches for a sheltered bed for the night.

I close my door to seek protection from the callous unconcern of the world.

From my book “Leaf Memories”

Carol Farnsworth

As of last Thursday evening, 57% of eligible voters had cast their votes in this mid term election.
This is the highest pre voting numbers since 1999. With a week to go, we can to hear more of candidates spending their last dollars to bombard us with get out to vote masked with last minute appeals for our vote.
Opinions are far apart and vocal. I hear little in the way to compromise to come to a consensus.
In my brothers blog, Mayor Turnbull of Northville stated,”My Grandpa Turnbull was a Baptist, Republican and a Mason. My Grandpa Heatley was Catholic, Democrat and a member of the Knights of Columbus. Though they had different political views, they were the best of friends. They were able to listen to each other and accept another’s opinion. Asking questions, they were able to find compromise and common ground.
During the news and social media, I have heard little in the ways to work together to build a better community.
After tomorrow, we will count the votes to announce the winners and the losers. If we can’t find a way to listen and understand another’s point of view, we will all be losers.
I look for the quiet voice of reason and not rhetoric. If this succeeds, we will all be winners.

***

Twas the Night before voting and in all the booths, not a voter was present, there will be no goofs
The signature cards were placed with care, In hopes that votes will soon be there
When outside the poll there arose such a noise, I leapt to my feet to see what made the clatter
When what should my eyes see
Three different crews from the local tv.
Turning my head to go inside, a microphone was thrusted into my side
A little man with beady eyes,
questioned me to my surprise
How will you vote? who are you for?
Taking his shoulders, I led him to the door
Banging and hollering he kicked the door
He uttered a curse, then I heard no more.
He went quickly to work
He scattered pamphlets of candidates and turned
with a jerk
giving the the finger, he turned to go
Outside in the falling snow
I heard him yell into the night
No one wins without a fight.
Carolfarn@aol.com Copyright 2/7/22

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Most people are familiar with traditions of All Hallows Eve or Halloween. In my hometown the scariest night was October 30th or Devil’s Night. It was a night for pranks. It was popular in the 1930s and 1940s. Older youth would soap window or decorate trees with rolls of toilet paper. Occasionally, a hole from a bb gun would be found in a front window. Younger children would stay indoors.
In large cities such as Baltimore ,New Orleans and Philadelphia, pranksters turned to arson. The most notable urban area to see this change was Detroit. Racial riots, a shrinking population and factories closures led to burning of abandoned buildings and homes.
My husband’s family lived in the inner city of Detroit. The flight of white neighbors to the surrounding areas and the increase of rental properties led to the decline of neighborhoods.
As more people left, fewer police and firemen had to cope with set fires. In 1983, more than 800 acts of arson were reported on Devil’s night.
Fires spread to adjoining structures with the loss of property and lives. Detroit was burning and the city leaders were at a loss how to stop the destruction.
In 1986, a city wide curfew for youth under age 18 was in effect after 10 p.m. It continued through Halloween. Groups of neighbors patrolled their streets and reported any suspicious activity. These groups were named angels of the night.
The curfews and angel patrols continued until 2017. As a result of the angels and police, the number of arson incidents dwindled each year. Detroit paid a high cost. Many neighborhoods were abandoned with one to two homes on a square block. Traffic lights blinked with no traffic. Homes were cleared and remaining owners planted crops where city playgrounds once stood.
The Homes in Detroit are becoming a place to bring new young couples into neighborhoods. But the city infrastructure and schools are lagging behind.
My nephew bought one of the older historical homes in Detroit. He lives with two Great Danes and lives behind an 10 foot wooden fence.
More needs to be done to rebuild the community.

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Detroit

Located on the Detroit River, across from Canada.
Early settlers traveled the waters of Lake Huron to smaller lakes.
The French traders gave way to the English then Americans.
Except for the native Indians, all called this land their new home.
Many ethnic groups migrated to this city for the factory jobs and the hope for a better life.
Settling in neighborhoods, they stayed , like bees in their hive.
Racial violence fueled by unemployment compelled a generation to move.
Some tried to stay and help rebuild the city.
Many more wanted to destroy the Motor City.
Arson is quick, but rebuilding the trust of a people will take generations.
Don’t forget the Motor City.
carolfarn@aol.com copyright 10/31/2022

This week, I celebrate my 68th birthday. Thats is a lot of cake and ice cream! Recently, we have had several first birthday parties. The consensus of the family members is to place a small cake in front of the birthday child and record him or her attacking the cake. My youngest niece Evie, eagerly ate her cake with gusto. When the remains were cleared, she had cake and frosting in her hair and on her face, shirt and both of her hands.
I started to research birthday celebrations. Historically, the Pharaohs of Egypt, proclaimed a feast on the day of the birth of a new Pharaoh over two thousand years ago.
Early Christians celebrated the Feast Day of the saint that had the name sake rather than their birth day. They were given another name at Baptism and picked another saint’s name at Confirmation, when the young person is accepted as an adult into the community.
Some Christian churches have a new member be born again with a public profession of faith in front of the community.
In Japan the seventh, fifth and third birthday are called Schichi-Go-San it is marked by going to visit the Buddhist Temple and distributing sweets to the children. The former empress Michiko’s birthday on October 20th has art exhibits and public festivities. She will turn 88 this year.
In Argentina, birthday party menus include cake, small sandwiches similar to tea sandwiches and filled pastries from the bakery.
In Brazil, tradition calls for guests to sing birthday songs while clapping. Brigadeiro is a chocolate cake, covered with chocolate frosting , served to celebrate the day
In Mexico, Quinceanera, is a traditional celebration on a girl’s 15th birthday. She is welcomed into womanhood with a party and a table of young men and women. Gifts are given to each guest.
In Nigeria, it is common for a whole cow or goat to be roasted. This is served with Jollof rice, a dish of tomatoes, peppers and onions. Nigerians prefer to give small gifts through out the year rather than on special occasions.
In China, friends and family gather to celebrate with each other to promote good luck in the coming year. The year of the dragon, is considered to be the luckiest of the Chinese new year. The next year of the Dragon is in 2024.
Whether you have a lavish party or an intimate family gathering, birthday celebrations are here to stay.

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Birthday an acrostic poem
Balloons hang from the kitchen fixture.
I imagine what are hidden in wrappings.
Red and white streamers hang from the corners.
This is the day I have waited for!
Hurrah, Mom brings in the cake.
Dollops of frosting decorate the doll cake.
A cry of lament escapes my lips.
Yuck! The cake slides to the floor!

Carolfarn@aol.com October 24, 2022

This past week, we had a large full moon. The Native Americans called it the harvest moon. As the days shorten and the frost appeared in the morning, nature warned the people to harvest their crops for the cold weather ahead.
As I gazed out at the bright backyard, I thought about how many ways we use the word moon in our daily lives. The light in the night could have caused moon blindness for some nocturnal animals. The deer were active for several evenings. I saw the activity on our motion cameras posted at the water dish.
The gem, moonstone, is a popular addition to jewelry, they come in a variety of soft colors varying from cream, gray, yellow, orange to light red. The moonstone symbolize change .The stone can change to a green color if stimulated by light. Moonstones are said to protect travelers and bring luck in matters of the heart.
In the Hopi language, moon means overflowing spring. In Afghanistan, the full moon has an orange cast. The full moon name is translated as,”God is with you.” There are many names moon seen in different cycles. For example, the next full moon on November 8th is called the shelter moon to start the time of the year when the native people’s sheltered most of the time.
Mooning is a reference to a person’s idling . To moon over another is to be attracted towards that person. A less attractive use of the word moon is to bare one’s buttocks to insult another. The word mooney can mean dreamy, restless or or silly. The moon is said to influence feelings and thoughts as the moon’s pull affects the ocean’s tides.
As the song from the Movie, Moonstruck explains,”When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.” So enjoy the large moon on a clear evening. Allow it encouraging your imagination to soar.

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Moon Over Michigan

The bright orb reflects on the rippling waters.
Large pines cast shadows the dance in the wind. Water laps onto the beaches with a slow rhythm.
The pull of the full moon causes the animals to frolic in the night.
Man ponders the full moon while nature embraces the experience of night glow.
carolfarn@aol.com
October 17th, 2022