traveling up and down the blind highway

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

As a person who is blind, I occasionally run into others who take advantage of my good nature. But, I didn’t expect this behavior from my husband.
One of our morning routines is seeing who gets the coffee. First one up checks the coffee maker to bring two cups of fresh hot brew to the bedroom. We sip, savor that first cup while we talk. The brewing cycle commences before we awake. The aroma of the brewing and the beeping of the timer signals it is ready.
Lately, John has limited himself to one mug of coffee a day. I usually finish the other two cups. Until, we bought some flavored amaretto beans. It’s enticing aroma brings us out of sleep with a delightful scent.
Yesterday, I poured my second cup in the afternoon. Placing the mug in the microwave, I went back to the office. In a short time I returned for my warm cup. It was gone. I recalled putting the cup in to heat. I didn’t recall retrieving it. I have been known to lose items, but never warm coffee.
Retracing my steps to the bedroom, office and the kitchen- No coffee! The lingering aroma of the hot drink hung in the air.
Meanwhile, John was making himself hot chocolate. Opening the microwave door, he smelled the amaretto coffee deciding to have that instead. Putting two spoonfuls of creamer in the mug, he sipped my coffee while remarking,”Now you know how I feel when I think I have an acccurate memory.” He continued drinking the coffee while I searched.
Finally, I gave up and retrieved another mug from the shelf. I finished the pot. The whole time, John continued to enjoy the coffee and the joke.
This morning he confessed that He was going to make coco but upon opening the microwave, the aroma coming from the coffee tempted him. I better make more coffee until this bag of beans is gone!

***. Poem
Coffee an acrostic poem
Coming out of sleep, I smile.
Odor of brewed coffee tickles my nose.
For a moment, I Lay quietly, waiting.
First one up, John returns with two mugs.
Each sips, savoring the hot drink.
Every morning, the routine is repeated, for the last thirty three years.
Carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 7/28/25

What better informal holiday to celebrate midway through the summer than “National Relaxation Day?” What better way to relax than to take a snooze in a hammock?
The hammock has been in use since 1000 BC. Originating in Central and South America.They were used to safely sleep off the ground to protect a sleeper from insects, reptiles and predators. The bark woven hammocks were hung six to eight feet off the ground.
In the fifteenth century, sailors on ships used hammocks made from canvas for sleeping berths. The design protected the sailors from being tossed out of their berths. The hammocks could be stored to make room for day duties.
Modern hammocks are woven from cotton, nylon or polyester. Pawley Island hammocks were first manufactured in 1939, The Pawley Spa and Resort caters to relaxed summer leisure time in the southern states.
When we visited Hawaiian Islands, we were surprised to see the beach of Waikiki, being combed with machines to clean debris. Hanging hammocks made from woven fabrics, are regarded as some of the most comfortable of hanging beds. The beaches in Hawaii are all public and have no restrictions on sleeping on the beach. The tropical warmth of day turns to cool evenings especially when the trade winds continue into the early evening, making sleeping on the beach to cold without a blanket.
I had a Pawley hammock for 15 years before giving to my brother in law and his lady friend. They may show discoloration as they age.
So kick back and enjoy a snooze. in celebration of “National Relaxation Day.”

Dog Days

Hot, sultry days of summer,
Appear after the rising of the star Sirius.
It heralds extreme weather changes,
thunder storms, floods and this time increased hate, fever and lethargy. Sirius is the dog star. Hearing the word dog, my dog Koke opened one eye, yawned turned over and went back to sleep
under the shade of my hammock.

carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 7/22/25

In 1789, on July 14, the storming of the Bastille by French revolutionaries. led to the fall of the monarchy in 1793. Several dozen noblemen fled the country or were sent to the guillotine. The French revolution continued for ten years as several groups fought for control of the country. Leading to the rise of Napoleon in 1804.
In 1789, the poorest prisoners were housed in the lowest parts of the Bastille with crowding, little food and rampant disease. Person’s with means could pay for better treatment, even fireplaces, wood, and real beds. They were allowed to have visitors, books and other luxuries. The prison was overrun with common citizens. They released the few prisoners, killed the guards and officials. The first celebration of Bastille day was in 1790.
Today’s celebration features parades, shows of military strength, musical plays, balls and a large fireworks display over the Eiffel Tower.

In this country, we may have Storm the Bastille celebrations but large celebrations are limited to French descendants. Unlike the American Revolution, which was the colonist against the British, the French Revolution was French people against their own countrymen. In the first eighteen months of the conflict over 20,000 were killed.
At the site of the Bastille is a monument to the start of the revolution. A bronze column stands where the Bastille originally stood. Traces of the buildings foundation is all that is left of the buildings and outer walls. They were burned to the ground by the storming of the Bastille. During the two year conflict scores of castles and church property were destroyed. Deaths from executions after the uprise vary but the guillotine was used in 1500 to 1700 executions, including the King Louie the 16th and his queen Marie Antoinette.
****. poem
Bastille
B Best rooms were for the rich.
A All who couldn’t pay were crowded with the rest.
S Symbols of status were clothes and servants.
T Toiling to survive was the norm.
I Insects and lice abound.
L Little could be done without paying the guards.
E Every item had a price.
S Some stone foundations is all that remains.
carolaspot@aol.com
Copyrighted 7/14/25

Today, I looked to the calendar for celebrations for inspiration. It is World Chocolate Day, National Macaroni Day and Tell the Truth Day. I will address all three events.
First, there is World Chocolate Day, one of several days honoring this sweet confection. There is an excellent history of this delight in the book “Beyond the Wrapper a Delicious Journey Through the History of Chocolate” by Barrett Williams. The fruit or seeds grow in pods surrounded by fleshy growth on the Theobroma cocoa tree. The plant name means “fruit of the gods” . It seeds were ground, mixed with water, spices and chilies to produce a bitter beverage, an acquired taste. This drink is very different from what we know as sweetened chocolate. Milk and sugar were added to the drink in the seventeen hundreds. The first chocolate bar was produced in 1844, by Joseph Fry, who added coco butter into a molded bar. In 1937 Hershey developed a chocolate bar that could withstand higher temperatures for mailing. During WWII, many servicemen and women received packages with the treat.
Today Hershey chocolate bars have about 11% cocoa. The Ghirardelli chocolate bars have 86% cocoa giving them a rich intense flavor.
Macaroni is another ancient food. It was produced in Greece ,between 2000 and 1000 BC. It is believed the first macaroni may have resembled small balls. The mixture resembled dumplings more that the present day noodles. The first elbow macaroni was invented in Switzerland in 1872. In addition to cheese, the dish had scallions and chives. The American version of Mac and cheese is attributed to Thomas Jefferson’s chef, James Hemings. He learned to cook pasta when Jefferson was the ambassador to France. This dish is served on many tables on Thanksgiving.
Finally the difficult task of telling the truth for one day. We often tell white lies, to politely not hurt another’s feelings. Don’t make up a lie. Find another topic or stay quiet. If you must tell the truth , do it in a humble and kind manner, or offer the person a chocolate.
*** poem
Chocolate Pasta
186 calories per serving.
cholesterol free,
tree nut free,
low protein,
sugar free,
… so why eat it?
carolaspot@aol.com
7/7/25 copyrighted