Apologies for my absence over the last week, readers. We packed our car full of bathing suits, shorts, and Schmidt’s sausage and headed to Michigan, and eventually, to the thumb. Port Austin, to be specific.
My family has had a house on Lake Huron for longer than I’ve been alive. I know “vacation house” sounds very fancy. Let me be very, explicitly clear: OUR HOUSE IS NOT FANCY. This is one step up from camping. Yes, we’ve got indoor plumbing, but we’ve also got critters, cobwebs, and a draft that would kill you in any season other than summer. To be sure, I’m not complaining: You can throw a paper airplane from the house to the Lake.
What follows is a photo essay of sorts. We took the big girl camera, for once. The sun sparkling off the water in the late afternoon and the dog’s lolling tongue demanded it after all. Let me offer you a tour of the magic of the Great Lakes.
We pulled up on Monday afternoon (exhausted from an all day cowgirl/American Girl birthday party with 30 six-year olds) and it was already gorgeous. We ran outside immediately with the camera, and the dog made a beeline for the lake (is this my dog, or what?).
This is a relaxing place. I read three books over the course of the week, and took more than my fair share of naps. My biggest concern every day was the number of cocktails I could consume at 1:30 pm while still enjoying my current novel. As I mentioned, the dog is also a fan.
We also made friends with a Screech Owl! Our new avian buddy lived in a knothole (this is so To Kill a Mockingbird I will fall over) outside along the drive to my grandparents’ compound. Check him out!
Sweet, isn’t he? Amidst all this fetch and dog-paddling, we made it to downtown Port Austin for the festive, Fourth of July Parade. This is just what you were expecting of a small town, and I’ve got the tractors and Bean Queens to prove it.
Charming, yes? They threw candy and ice pops, and we cheered for the veterans when they marched by. Once the sirens closed the show, we headed home for happy hour number three, nap number six, and eventual fireworks. This is bliss, no?
I always cry when I leave. Living in Columbus, I’m now six hours from Port Austin, as opposed to the two hour drive I’ve been used to. If we can get up there once a year, it’s a small miracle. You know why, right? This place?