I learn about the swales along Lake Michigan. Leftover from the last glacial covering 20,000 years ago, creating dips and ridges of land as the water moved inward and back again over thousands of years.
I learn about the breakwater, protecting the canal that connects Lake Michigan and Green Bay. We walk out onto it and wonder what the holes in the cement are for. Then we look across the at the other breakwater and see a structure above the breakwater all the way to the lighthouse. Perhaps for people to travel on top of when the waves were too rough below.
I learn about white pines and red pines and breathe in the smell of a pine trodden trail through an open woods. Even the dead trees, turned a copper red, add beauty.
I learn about milkweed and monarch butterflies as we walk through a prairie. When we make it to the stone beach we sift through colored stones and find flat ones to skip in the shallow waves.
Be in the kind of place, and with the kind of people, where you have a lone seagull perched on top of a lighthouse pointed out to you.
I must be doing something right.
With Love,
Natalie