Now . . . all you folks who are heading to Mackinac Island for the Lilac Festival June 10-19, do not get worried! The lilacs are just beginning to bloom – and that’s only in a few places on the island. Others will open later. In fact . . . if I was a betting lady, I would bet that this is going to be the absolute BEST Lilac Festival in the last few years! In fact . . . I think the lilacs are going to be so gorgeous during those 10 days that the festival is just going to be spectacularly spectacular! Don’t believe me? Here’s a little preview . . .
The holiday weekend has come and gone, and everywhere you look folks are planting flowers. It’s kind of a tradition up here to wait until after Memorial Day to put tender young plants into the ground because there always seems to be one last “almost freeze” a few days ahead of the last weekend in May.
WE HAVE A WINNER for the “Mystery Spot” contest at the end of this post. The winner is Susan, who lives in Colorado now, but is a Michigan native. Her correct response was “the Post Cemetery”. Scroll to the bottom for the full photo of the Mystery Spot.
What a busy week it’s been so far!
It’s taken me a while to get into the swing of the slight change in formats this summer. As you know, I haven’t been posting only one photo each day, but I promise that some days I will. But, as I always find on the island, there is just so much going on it’s hard to stop with one pic. When I find a spare moment at the condo, I sit down at the laptop and start “sketching out” what happened that day. By doing that, when Thursday and Sunday evenings roll around, I’ve practically gotten these in-depth posts written, AND I haven’t forgotten half of what we did! It’s working out well for me, and I hope it is for you as well.
Ted and I were up early on Monday to take the short walk through the back trails to the Post Cemetery for the Memorial Day service there. We somehow timed it a little wrong and arrived just as the service was ending, so I stood to the side of the road and watched as the fort interpreters left the cemetery and started back to Fort Mackinac.
Again, please email your answers to me at email@example.com. PLEASE DO NOT ANSWER IN THE “COMMENTS” SECTION OF THE BLOG.
All righty then! The coffee has to be cold and the donuts eaten! See you back again on Monday morning with all the weekend happenings, and I’ll have a pic or two for you on Saturday and Sunday mornings.
Whew! My fingers are tired! Have a safe and fun weekend. God bless.
MYSTERY SPOT ANSWER
Living where we do up on a hill past the Grand (actually, it’s three hills past the Grand), we have a birds-eye view of the comings and goings of traffic you might not see everyday downtown. Here are a couple of examples from this week:
Last fall I wrote about the Mackinac Island Horsemen’s Association (MIHA) and their dream to build a community stable for the island. The MIHA has worked diligently for three years to fund this project through proceeds from the Mackinac Island Festival of the Horse and from private donations. Through their hard work, and the generosity of people who love this island and everything it stands for, over $190,000 has been raised. With those funds, and with a construction loan for the remaining amount, the MIHA broke ground this spring, and the community stable is going up so fast it’s like watching a time-lapse photograph.
Please come back on Tuesday for the weekend blog post.
Dedicated today to the men and women of our military who have given the ultimate sacrifice for their country.
My daddy served in Africa in World War II. A small town boy from south Georgia – recently married to my mother – he went overseas in his early twenties, having never before ventured out of the state in which he was born. When he returned, he seldom talked of those days – to my mother, or later to me. Under the bed in Georgia, I have a box of black and white photographs that my dad brought home. There are many of him in uniform, sitting in camp with other soldiers. There is even one of him riding a camel.
One of the few stories I remember him telling is of the good friend he made while serving abroad. I can’t remember the man’s name, but I remember daddy talking about him being from Cheboygan, Michigan. Daddy loved to imitate what he called his friend’s “brogue”, and when I listened as an adult to that story, I always smiled and thought how that Michigander must be telling the same stories to his family about that Georgia fellow with the strange accent. Daddy often talked of trying to find his friend again, but the years passed, and he never did.
I think my dad would get a kick out of knowing we now live in Michigan part of the year and that we travel to Cheboygan every other week for groceries and on other errands. Every time I see the Cheboygan city limit sign, I think of my dad and his friend. How I wish I knew his name. I would find him now, or at least his family, and tell them hello – for daddy.