traveling up and down the blind highway

From an early age, my daughter Ruth loved the speed and drops of roller coasters. Her first encounter with rides was at the local 4th of July celebration. It was a small loop roller coaster shaped like an alligator, she loved the bump in the middle of the ride. She rode it several times until it was time to leave.
Next there was the spinning cups at Disney and the tilt a whirl. John got nausea on the spinning rides, so I accompanied her on such spinning rides. I didn’t have enough vision to cause dizziness.
As Ruth grew, so did her taste for thrill rides. In sixth grade, She and two friends did a jump on cords. The photo taken by the park shows two girls screaming while my daughter was grinning from ear to ear.
The second trip to Disney found Space mountain, a inside coaster in the dark.
Finally there was a day at Cedar Point in Sanduskey Ohio. She and John tested their nerves on every coaster. I enjoyed the Magnum, a steel rollercoaster travels along the shores of Lake Erie after it’s first drop. The Millennium Force first hill is over 300 feet tall. There are several twists and three more hills. the initial drop can reach up to 93 mph. Finally, we waited in long lines to ride the Top Thrill Dragster it is a ride that bolts the rider straight upward 420 feet before it twists, coming to the starting point. It travels 120 mph.
For her 16th birthday, Ruth wanted to tandem jump from a plane. By this time, John and I were wiser and chose to watch from the ground. In this jump, the person is attached to the experienced jumper in the front, like a large bay carrier. At the correct altitude, the plane door is open and you move to the open door. Ruth was second to jump.
“I was talking to another jumper then he was gone and I was next.”
She recalled the force on falling through, the loud sound of the wind and having her heart in her throat. Counting to ten, she and her partner pulled the ripcord together. The parachute opened to slow the decent and jerked the jumpers. The chute floated slowly back to the ground.
Since that jump, Ruth has jumped into a current of upward air mimicking a free fall from a plane. I didn’t have to watch and worry. She did this with her husband. I wonder what she will try next?
***. Poem
Rocky heights
Zip line speed
steep ascents
downhill plunges
jumping ship
parachute strapped.
What’s next?
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 10/6/25

I heard about Meta glasses and how they could read text such as mail and poems. After receiving two recommendations from other writers, I decided to purchase a pair.
One of the users had purchased the glasses made by Ray Ban a year ago, when they were first available. She warned me if I order any extra features, the order could be delayed. The glasses have been available for the past year. I took a chance and ordered sapphire tinted lenses that would turn dark in bright sunlight. That was
in mid-July. As of this date, I am still waiting.
The order was lost, a new manger was hired and the glasses were in short supply, many excuses. I can’t go elsewhere. I have paid for the glasses in full. Each morning I open my email to read an email from this company, each month there a promotion for meta glasses.

Now, I read that there is a new version of these glasses. They are able to have more detail and sharper images. I just want to use the text feature to read my postal mail. I wanted to start a bible group in September. Now I am hoping to receive the glasses before my October birthday.
***. Poem
To See is to Read
I use to read with my eyes.
It got harder, words to surmise.
Straining to see, cause painful eyes.
Holding a phone to read text.
Soon I found, not the best.
Heard of glasses from Ray Ban.
Portable aid for on the go.
Order them, I paid the bill.
I’m still waiting, I’ve had my fill.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 9/29/25

Like many people, I will procrastinate what I want to defer or avoid. This works in the short term, but eventually, we must come to act.
Today is the first day of fall. Here in Michigan, our weather is calling for showers with highs in the 70’s, accompanied by a light wind of 6 mph. This is not fall like weather. The long term forecast calls for more of the same.
My garden resembles more jungle than trimmed plantings. I have postponed weeding and trimming vine plants, resulting with thirty foot gourd vines across the back wall, sweet potato vines that are escaping the fenced garden and morning glories wrapped around the patio rail and bench. I had to unwrap the trellis from coiling around the hanging nasturtium. Last evening the security camera recorded four deer, two skunks and several raccoons making their way to the leaf shaped watering trough. Nature has delayed fall to a later time.
Like my procrastinating, nature will turn down the heat, announcing the autumn harvest time. I will pick gourds to dry and give to neighbors, dig for potatoes and gather seed pods of morning glories and other flowers seeds to distribute.
For now, I will take my coffee to the porch and watch the jungle grow.
Gourd vines climb high on ornamental grass plants.
Sweet potatoes burst, escaping garden fence.
Porch railing and bench covered with glory greens.
I watch, watching the garden grow.
Soon Jack Frost will curtail jungle growth.
Starting the next season.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 9/22/25

Fifty years ago, I met a 16 year old girl. She was an exchange student from San Paulo, Brazil. She had been placed with a host family for a couple of weeks. The local Catholic Church needed to find a couple that would give Adelia a ride to and from Mass.
My parents found Adelia a lonely girl with several younger children to care for after school. Mother brought her back to our home and kept her for most of that Sunday. They planned weekend trips to locations and attractions to show different parts of Michigan. They took her to Niagara Falls .
One of the wishes that Adelia hoped to experience was a date with an American boy. This is where I came in. I was attending college and dating a University ofMichigan student. He had a friend that had never had a date either. Both Adelia the boy were of small stature. We set up a date to have lunch and play pinball on Saturday. We had pizza and beer at the Brown Jug. The dates were experts at the games, winning many free games. Finally, the moment of the kiss happened. I missed it but from the grim on Adelia’s face, I would say the date was a success.
Over the years, Adelia and her mother and later her husband Todd came to the States for visits. My brother Brian and I entertained them.
In between visits there were cards, letters and small gifts exchanged. We kept up a long distance correspondence.
The last time I saw Adelia, She and her Friend John came to stay in Clearwater, Florida. Since my husband’s name is John, we started to refer to Adelia’s friend as Brazil John. We were staying with my Dad at his condo. So he was able to see Adelia again.
Brazil John wanted to visit the Salvador Dali exhibit had phones with different languages for visitors to use. They didn’t have one for Portuguese. One of the staff was found to give them a personal tour.
Brazil John found he loved pancakes, he had not heard of by before. Every restaurant he ordered them. I bought him a box of pancake mix to take home.
There were three other Brazilians on the same plane going back home. We had a van full to take out for one last pancake lunch before they boarded the plane.
These days, with the mail taking longer to deliver letters. My last Christmas card was sent in late November and arrived in San Paulo after New Year’s. We e mail each other. She reads my weekly blog and makes comments. I am sure she shares the blog with Brazil John also.
So on the 18th of September, Adelia will have her birthday. I have shared fifty years of this long distant friendship. Happy Birthday my lovely Brazilian sister.

Long distant sister
50 years , more or less.
Two worlds came together on Sunday’s
Mother answered the call to take a Brazilian girl to Mass.
lonely uma garota ,empty nesters
Seeing needs, they adopted each other.
Her wish to have a date with an American boy.
A friend of my friend fit the bill.
That relationship didn’t last.
but our sisterhood did.
Several decades later
Though physically apart, we are still bounded
in love,
As only sisters can be.
Happy birthday.
Adelia.

carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 9-15-25

Mom Dad Carol Adelia

This day was created in 1966 by The United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization. U.N.E.S.C.O. It’s purpose is to to promote world peace and cooperation a radical idea then and more so now. This year the day is celebrating reading for education worldwide. A yearly event, sponsored by Scholastic, to promote reading aloud in one hundred countries. this year it is a two day event to promote the 60 Th year of literacy days.
In 1966, the literacy levels was under 50%. It is now reported that 86 %of person’s over age 15, can now read and write.
Recent achievements report that 36% of third graders are reading at their grade level. This is lower for populations of different ethic and cultural differences. Children with physical and cognitive disabilities are often overlooked. Sixth and eighth grades literacy levels were reported to closer to grade level.
So the educators cite the increased use of AI programs used to write assignments. Spelling and grammar can be checked and corrected with little thought or learning.
Scores show a wide diversion in some ethic and cultural populations. Students unlearning English as a second language, blindness and hearing can decrease scores on standard test. The blind and low vision populations literacy levels have been reported as low as 10 %, with older blind individuals having the highest illiteracy compared to younger populations. Students are expected to learn braille and English to read and write as a blind student.
Deaf students who learn American Sign Language, a concept centered language. They must learn English syntax and grammar to be literate. This year, the emphasis is on story telling and reading aloud. Lets hope the two day event will promote cooperation and sharing of our stories to foster understanding.
***. poem
Word Play
It starts with babbling of a baby with her mother.
Repeating listening and producing sounds shape vocalizations.
Gestures and eye contact add to the play.
Peek a Boo, and patty cake gives practice .
Rhyming and alliteration brings joy making words.
Soon word chains form communication pathways.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted

In early Chippewa tribe lore, there is a story how the large sand dunes formed on the North west Lake michigan shoreline.
In early days, a mother bear and her two young cubs, raced to escape the flames of a forest fire on the west side of the lake. The small family was chased into the lake by the flames. mother bear urged her cubs to swim in front of her. Soon the two cubs, tired and fell behind. The mother continued to swim while encouraging the cubs to keep going. Within sight of the far shore, the cubs tired and drowned. The mother bear, made it to shore, exhausted, laid down to rest and wait for her cubs. The shape of the large dune is referred to as Sleeping Bear dune by its resemblance to a bear at rest. The two islands of South and North Manitou are said to be the remains of the two drowned cubs. It is said that the mother bear still waits for her lost cubs to return. Native people see attributes of the bear as strength, endurance and courage. Mother bears are fearless when it comes to protecting their young.
When I visited the Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore, I was surprised at the area of the dunes. It is 4 square miles and is bordered by a wall of sand about one hundred feet high. The tallest dune is four hundred feet above the lake shore.
I have climbed down the dune for fifty feet. The steep slope and sliding sand under foot makes the upward climb difficult. It took me 5 minutes to traverse down dune fifty feet and over an hour to climb back to the overlook.
As a child, my husband recalled sliding down to the shore line from the top of the dune. John, gathered smooth rocks to bring to his mother for her rock garden. By the time he returned to the top two hours later, His mother met him with a thermos of water. His t-shirt that held the wrapped stones was ruined from the weight of the stones and the climb.
Winds from the upper lake formed the dunes on the north west shore of the lower peninsula. Composed of light sand, the dunes are moving and growing. The dunes are moved by wind east by three feet each year.

*** poem
Mother bear, protecting cubs.
Fleeing fire, flee to the shore.
Fire behind, Water ahead. Hesitate, then plunge in.
Swim to the other lake side, only to drown insight of land.
Exhausted, the mother bear still waits for her cubs.
Their bodies are seen in the shape of the islands.
She still waits.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 9/1/2025

Sometimes Mother Nature brings new life up close and personal. In a small lilac bush outside my office window, I am a witness to the growth, care and feeding of a family of three baby robins. About three weeks ago, John noticed active nesting activity in the bush leaves hidden except for the parents coming and goings. By the end of the week, the female is sitting on her brood. She doesn’t leave the nest until after chicks are hatched.
We had a hard rain with an inch of rain. The robin hunkered down on her brood keeping them safe and warm. Baby chicks open their eyes after 5 days. The three babies keep their mouths open, ready to receive offered food. The male robin will help to find food. He feeds the mother who regurgitates the food for the chicks.
I can hear the baby’s cheeping signals the return of one of the adult birds. When I walked too close to the bush, the adult robin dove at my head, making much noise. I later learned this warned the chicks to hide deep in the nest for protection.
I am content to listen at the window and get verbal descriptions of the families antics from my husband.
In another week, the oldest of the birds will step outside the nest to teeter on the edge before taking a first flight. The young robins will return to the nest to be fed for another two weeks.
Since this is August, I assume this is the second family for this pair of robins. It is a joy when nature is so close at hand.
The female robin is light gray with light orange breast feathers. This is in contrast to the male’s dark gray body with bright red breast feathers makes him the center of attention. The chicks are are speckled brown and white. Their colored breast feathers will develop as they mature. Until then, I will enjoy the peeping of the family.
***. poem
Family affair
Carry, drop, twigs, leaves.
They labor weaving tight nest.
For summer’s last brood.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 8/25/2025

Every year, I visit greenhouses and local nurseries to find plants that have different textures. Drawn to fuzzy, plump or spiky foliage with fragrant blossoms. Using my fingers, I gently explore each plant for changes. This year, my choices included a small sweet potato vine. I planted in a middle of a 20 by 20 foot garden space. Next to the plant, John placed a small trellis to encourage the potato to climb. On the far side of the garden , next to the fencing, small gourd seeds were scattered. By the back porch, morning glories planted in a row. Strings were tied from the railing to encourage the plants to climb.
I looked at the small clusters of green thinking, “this will never cover the area.”
By August, The gourd seeds sprouted and climbed up the fence and over the wall for 20 feet. The small potato plant had spread to the corner of the garden. Morning glories twisted vines to cover the hand rails on the porch. To enter the garden, I had to break vine ends that wrapped around the opening. The garden was a jungle of greens. Only the orange gourds bloomed. I felt for a purple white or a rosy bloom on the potato and morning glories. From my reading, I found that morning glories, a close relative of sweet potatoes were poisonous. I worried that if they produced flowers at the same time the potatoes may become toxic.
This morning, the gourds have escaped the garden boundary to sink roots into the cement bird bath for water. There are two more months to grow.
In the meanwhile, “Sweet potato pie anyone?” “You can have the first bite.”

***. poem
The jungle
It started small, in the spring.
There was room for everything.
In circles, planted bulbs and seeds.
All in order, free of weeds.
With fertilizer, water and sun the garden grew.
Climbing high plantings in colored hues.
growth across entrance barring me, not amused.
No space to move.
Can’t side step.
You know the rest.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 8/18/25

Discovering the History of the Ojibway nation August 11, 2025
In the 19th century all of Michigan, as well as portions of Wisconsin , Minnesota and Canada. They numbered over thirty five thousand strong. Along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, are several Indian founded towns. Harbor Springs, Good Heart and Cross Village are on the lake shore. I was staying in Good Heart, the middle area of the settlements. St Ignatius Catholic church and cemetery was two property from the cottage. The church dates from 1869 when the original church burnt to the ground. The interior is plain with narrow pews. The music is provided by a foot pump organ. The windows behind the alter is not stain glass but shows the sunrise over the lake. Hanging from the choir loft is a replica of a birch bark canoe used by the missionaries to travel the lake shore.
The historical church and graves sites overlooks the beach. The beach at the church is a public beach and free for all to use.
Walking along the shore road, I noted many old wooden stairways built on the top of the bluff and descending to the road for beach access. Many are neglected and have fallen to the forest floor.
The old trading post and store, is on the main highway on the top of the bluff. They sell groceries , souvenirs and Petoskey stones. It is the remnants of ancient coral. They are gray and covered with small circles in a honeycomb pattern.
After shopping, we traveled to Cross Village the northern settlement. There I sought an example of woven boxes decorated with porcupine quills. I wanted to feel the image on the box. I found a box made by a local native craftsmen in 2021. It depicts a hummingbird with the cardinal flowers small tall stems of red blooms coming out of the main stems. The small tubular flowers rich in nectar. The greens of the bird contrast with the bright red of the blooms. (see photo)
Before lunch we visited another art gallery with paintings of the native people and activities of their lives. The outdoor garden displayed a series of metal tubes that when hit or blown into mad a different musical note. Taking my cane, I tapped each tube as I slowly walked the circle.
At the restaurant, we visited the garden to see wood carvings of native animals carved from pieces of driftwood. The largest was a adult black bear standing over six feet tall. Feeling the claws, I found the claws were curved and slightly under 4 inches in length. The bear’s teeth were as long as their claws.
The day ended with a walk to the boat launch on the beach. Unlike the beach of white sand by the cottage, this beach was covered with small wave washed round rocks. I imagined the first missionaries traveling by birch canoes up and down the shore line to each settlement.
We ended the day around the beach fire, watching the hazy sun descend into the water. My brother passed around pieces of Mackinac fudge with the flavor of Rocky road. It is a combination of chocolate, cherries and nuts and marshmallow.. We watched as the first evening stars appeared to signal the end to the day and my vacation.
***. poem
Whispers
Bird call a greeting to the rising sun.
Pine trees dance in the breeze.
Lapping waves tease the bare toes as I walk.
Nature sounds, none of man.
I find a driftwood log.
A remanent of a ghost pine.
Smooth and bleached silver from months/years of floating.
I remember the tales of the first nation people and their ways.
Now gone, mostly- replaced with another.
Will we care for this gift of the land any better?
Time will tell.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 8/11/25

Turnbull sibling’s weekend is full of activities.. Four hours north to the top of the mitten. The Harbor Springs area is filled with tourists and boats on Lake Michigan. After breakfast on Saturday, there was a Farmer’s market at the Methodist church. While my sisters in laws searched for treasures and fresh veggies, my two brothers took turns walking me around the market and back and forth to the boat slips. The vessels ranged from small sailing boats to hundred fifty foot yachts. visitors and locals were walking to explore the goods offered. Cut flowers, lavender dried and fresh competed for customers attention. As we walked, I wondered how many miles we traversed.
The hustle and bustle of the market contrasted with the whispered waves lapping against the wharf and slips.
I was glad that I had trained on a stationary bike daily. The heavier all train cane help navigate bumps, curves and grass areas. I left avoiding other shoppers to my sighted guide.
I was glad when it was time to find lunch. We joined another couple from Northville that wanted to visit. The place chosen for lunch was a working farm and restaurant. We were ushered to a large picnic table. I straddled the bench only to find the seat pressed into my hip replacement healed incisions. It kept me answering questions like a teacher. Jack’s wife Trish, asked many questions about the equipment and programs that I used to read and write. Most people think that there is an app for everything. They don’t realized the work and training it takes to do most tasks. I tried to talk about both topics.
Finally, the food arrived, gratefully I dug into a spinach and chicken sandwich with kettle chips.
Upon returning to the cottage, I rested. Eager for the bonfire on the beach to watch the sunset.
&&&. poem
Harbor Springs
Harbor sheltered from storm’s tempest.
Almost to the straights Between Huron and Michigan waters.
Rolling waves change with the prevailing wind.
Boats race with sails unfurled , from Chicago to Mackinac
Only the best sailors finish.
Rest of the hopefuls fall behind.

Some os the large sailing vessels, pass by our cottage.
Prey to the wind’s whims, hope for full sails.
Rigging is pulled, to catch the faintest breeze.
It is a waiting game .
No wind means still waters and a slow time.
Good that some have a small motor when darkness falls.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 8/4/25