For some reason, I have always had a heart for Indians, myself. Always felt some kind of kinship with them - although my parents came from Europe.
Strange - when I read about the Mesa Verde Pueblo Indians, I felt a strange feeling of deja-vue. But, I doubt if that was possible.
When I lived along the St. Clair River, I went to an environmental meeting in 1996 and met some Indians from the nearby Canadian Island of Walpole. Got to talking to them and they mentioned that there were thinking of writing up their heritage in a book. I offered to help them, gratis, as I had been in the book business myself for a long time.
They came across the river to my house many times. They had about 2,000 pictures. I tried to teach them, and gave them some good examples of books; but despite my efforts they never wrote the first word. However, one time in the winter they called and asked if they could come over. I said that I didn't think it was a good idea, because I was coming down with my usual winter bout with bronchitis.
They said that they could take care of that. So, the chief and the medicine man and a couple women came over, carrying a brown paper bag. The paper bag was full of bark and twigs and herbs and other strange stuff. They said they wanted to boil it on my stove with some water. They then put some whiskey in it.
The medicine man had a new deerskin which wrapped what he called a "stick". it was a stick with an ivory claw at the end of it. I was a little reluctant to drink the foul looking brew, but I really had no choice at that time. The chief was banging away at my piano,while the medicine man touched the stick to point my hands and the back of my neck while chanting some mumbo-jumbo. They told me to go to bed and that I would really sweat.
Well, I sweat like I never had done before and really slept that jag off. Anyway, when I awoke in the morning I had no more congestion and no more bronchitis. I used to have it every year, but I have never had it since. In the summer time, when I went over to Walpole Island to the Big Annual PowWow, they were most gracious - treating me to a lot of food and entertainment.
However, although I have in my memory much of the stuff they told me about their heritage and their ancestors, they never wrote one single thing.
I'm okay. In fact, just got through baking some pancakes after waking from a little nap. So, don't worry. Had an ice pack on my knee which hit the dashboard, and it seems to be functioning okay.
Here's the whole story, the truth and nothing but the truth; so help me!
It was a beautiful October day - blue sky, warm but with a bit of a fall chill in the air. I noticed that the leaves on the trees have reached about /14 of their autumn glory.
Had a busy day planned, as usual. I drove my latest Senior Profile manuscript and the accompanying pictures over to the Transylvania Times - and was in good fettle.
Went over to the Proper Pot on Main Street and bought the most expensive single fry pan I have ever purchased. Had to get a special one to use on my new electric stove with the glass top and the radiant heat.
Drove around the corner on Caldwell and on to Probart. When I got to corner of Probart and Broad Street, I had a decision to make. Should I turn right - and go the main intersection and then turn left? Or - should I wait for the traffic to clear and drive across Broad and up that steep hill on Probart? Made the wrong decision. !!!! Decided to wait for an opening and drive across before going up that terribly steep hill on Probart. I thought the road was clear in front of me, but there is traffic coming down that steep decline on Broad and I didn't see the car approaching me.
I was inching across when suddenly - BANG - that sickening thud when another car hits you. I saw a woman with a little baby spinning around and my car was driven off the road, over the curb, and on to the grassy area on the other side of Broad. I was shaken up, and heart beating madly, and frightened - as I sat there in my mangled up 1999 Buick!
The young woman and the baby in the other car seemed to be all right - and they were - except that the back door of her car was in pretty badly messed up shape.
It seemed like in no time flat I was surrounded by police cars and an EMS - and a very concerned young woman EMS worker asking me if I was all right - and if my neck or any thing hurt. I dazedly said no. Wanted to know if I wanted to go to the hospital to be checked. I confusedly said no. The lady in the other car got out of her car and took her little girl - looked about a couple years old - out of the car seat in the back seat. Baby was frightened and crying. NO ONE HURT. No blood, no broken bones - but the automobiles took a terrible beating.
Police and EMS workers were so kind and gentle and caring - made me feel protected. She drove off in her car, but mine was undriveable, so in no time flat there was a wrecker there and they hoisted the car up onto a flat bed and drove it away -where to? I have no idea.
The EMS worker, in the meantime, had helped me to take my belongings out of the car and put them into a big bag. At this same time, Evie Huntington, (a friend of mine from Connestee Falls) came by saw me - police wouldn't let her stop and hold up traffic - but she kept circling around until she came up to where I was and gave me a ride home.
I got a citation. First one I have ever had in my life. It will cost me $25 plus court costs; but I can take a check to the Court House, pay for my sins, and won't have to appear in court.
I was on my way to an appointment at Quotations, for an interview for my Senior Profile column in the newspaper, with Doris Kendrick when the accident happened. Doris is the owner of the Ladies Apparel shop in Sapphire, called Hogshed. Evie went into Quotations and let her know what had happened - and drove me home.
How kind and nice of Evie to do that for me! She was so efficient and calming, made every thing seem okay for me. There is nothing like this area - people are all extraordinary.
So, here I sit without a car in the driveway. I called State Farm and told them about it and they assured me they would take care of it. The other driver is also insured with State Farm - sort of a family affair.
I had a later appointment this afternoon to see Gloria Clouse for another appointment for a newspaper interview. She is the current President of the Friends of the DuPont Forest (a favorite project, close to my heart). I called her, explained, apologized. She has sent me some info on the internet. Hope I can get the info in to the paper for next week's paper on time, as the DuPont Forest is having their annual Fall bus tour for people to view the forest, the placid lake and all the thundering waterfalls at the end of next week - and I wanted to get her story in the paper, complete with the news about the upcoming TOUR before the event.
Maybe, I can still make it.
Bunged up knee seems to be doing pretty well. Ice pack I put on it has kept down the swelling - and so far it seems to be in working order. It would have to be on the left leg which has the bursitis in the hip. But, what the hey, I was limping on that leg anyway.
Soooooo, I don't know just what will happen to my car, where it is, or what! Of course I have Russell to ferry me around in his car if I need ferrying.
My pride is bruised - first citation I ever got - and the poor maroon car doesn't seem like the little engine that could any more - but, I am counting my blessings. Could have been worse.
Head aches a bit - but I guess that is a tension thing.
This is a copy of a letter that Lorraine wrote to her great-granddaughter Kaitlin. Kaitlin is 7 years old and has an extraordinary vocabulery. She wrote that they were studying wether and such in schol and wanted me to write and tell her what it was like here: --------------------------------------------------- All along the coast - usually many miles from the oceans - there are mountain ranges. The ones on the East coast (The Atlantic Ocean coast)start near the northern top part of South Carolina and run up to the top of New England and the Canadian border..
Names of the mountains ranges change, but they seem to me to be almost all of one range! You will see them on the U.S. Map. You will see the Appalachians, The Great Smokies, the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Catskills, the Adirondacks, and then the mountains of New England.
We are in the mountains that are furthest South on the East side of the United States, the Appalachians. I was surprised to learn that the Appalachian mountains are the OLDEST mountains in the whole world. They have been here so many years, that wind and snow and rain have beaten down the top peaks of stone so much that you rarely see any outcroppings of rock at the tops of our mountains. The centuries have made them round and curvy, instead of jagged like the Rocky Mountains in the western part of the United States.
The many centuries have deposited dirt on top of the Appalachians,allowing trees and other vegetation to grow and form forests in these mountains. When you look at them, there seems to be row after row of mountain ranges. You often see different shades and colors on the mountains in the distance. They seem to get purple, lavender and finally fade to a blurred gray in the background.
There are not many big cities with big factories and other pollution causing factors to change our beautiful forests. Some nearby forests (within hundreds of miles) have been damaged by winds that carry pollution to their forests and kill their trees; So far, we have been lucky here in this area, because we are not near any big industrial cities and the prevailing winds do not bring pollution here, yet.
So our forests are healthy and green and our air is pure and full of oxygen. Oxygen is the part of the air which we humans breathe, and is very important to life. Our mountain air is very clean and contains a lot of oxygen, coming from the forests which leads to more healthy living.
I am hoping that this stays like this for many years. And, I believe that it will. I will tell you why:
We live in Transylvania County and 70% of the land is National Forest.Unless the laws are changed, no one can disturb these national forests.
However, lately, I have been very concerned because the federal government is showing less protection for the national forests and the environment. However, I am hoping that this beautiful part of the United States will be allowed to continue in its glory.
Since so much of the county is federal national, or state, owned forest,there is very little land left for places to be built upon. I am very grateful for this, as I hate to see this magnificent country side spoiled for the benefit of developers. There are so few places like this left in the United States.
HOW DID WE FIND THIS AREA?
When your grand pa was a little baby, it was during World War II sixty years ago. And we came to live in South Carolina for a few years. I loved it and was very happy there, in spite of the worry about the war.
However, it was not mountainous where I was, nor was it forested. I loved the climate, as I was so grateful to get away from the cold weather of Michigan. But, more than that, I loved the people of the South. They were so much gentler, kinder, and friendlier than the people I had known in Michigan.
Many years went by.
Then, in 1980 (that was 25 years ago), your grandpa and I travelled to North Carolina to see a printer we were doing business with. We came South down I-75 as far as Knoxville, Tennessee and then cut over on I-40 going East through the most beautiful mountains I had ever seen.
Your grandpa and I were so awe-stricken by the beauty of the area. But,we did not have time to stop and look around.
Then, your grandpa and your uncle Greg took a little vacation, driving up and down the mountain areas of North Carolina to look around. Your grandpa was especially impressed with our little town of Brevard, N.C. He came back to visit it several times and always took pictures to show me. He also was always telling me that we should move here, that he knew I would love it.
Your great grandpa, Barry Whitehead, lived in California. When he gotready to retire, they bought a motor home and took a year's time to travel around the United States. They visited all the retirement areas,to see which they thought would be the best choice to live. Grandpa Russell told his father to look into this area. He did. He bought a home in the nearby time of Hendersonville, N.C. and was always happy that he had chosen this area.
After years of having your grandpa tell me how wonderful this area was,I finally (in May of 2000) took a month's vacation and rented a house in Connestee. I fell in love with the place. I did not want to go home. I tried to find a place to buy but did not find one that I wanted.
The next year (July of 2001), I came to Connestee for another vacation and spent more time looking for a house. I found the one that we are living in, just two days before our vacation was over. I bought the house and went back to Michigan.
In middle November of 2001 we made the move to Connestee. I have never regretted it. I am very happy, content, and grateful that I am here and can enjoy my late years in this magnificent spot. I love the people in this mountainous area of North Carolina and am enjoying life.
GEOGRAPHY AND WEATHER
The United States has the Great Continental Divide near the west coast. It also has the Eastern Continental Divide, just a few miles south of us in South Carolina. This is where the mountains end. You can stand on the top of the last mountain ranges and see several states below you on flatter lands. It is very beautiful.
The area where we live is a most unusual area. It is where the trees of the north and the ones of the south, come together. So, the area has both types of trees and the autumn colors of the changing leaves are spectacular. People come from all over to marvel at their beauty. The peak color usually comes in Mid-October.
Another thing that surprised and delighted me about our weather, is that we have so many days of sunshine. So many days when the skies are all blue with no clouds. And so many nights, when you can look into the dark velvet night sky and see so many bright stars that you are overwhelmed. We can see them so clearly because we do not have street lights in Connestee. This makes the surrounding night so much darker and you can really see the stars.
When I was little, we used to spend our summers on an island in the Flats of Lake St. Clair, Michigan. We had no electricity on that island, so at night we could count the thousands upon thousands of twinkling stars in the dark summer night. This reminds me of those times when I was a little girl. There also were many fireflies flitting about in the Flats, and I was delighted to see them here in the summer nights; as I was afraid they had all gone away.
World War II - ah, yes, I remember it well. I can easily recall the feeling of foreboding, in 1939, when the US passed the bill authorizing the Selective Service (I felt the same stirring of emotion when I read in this yer's July issue of Family Crcle that the US was again discussing the possibility of a draft for all men and women eighteen years of age to 44.) Detroit was gearing up as the Arsenal of Democracy and in 1940 I was in the midst of it. Fresh from the University of Michigan, I was one of the few women from my class to enter the workplace. As Secretary to the Chief Odnance Engineer of the 20mm. Oerlikon Anti-Aircraft Gun, I was right in the middle of this secret government work.
On that fateful Sunday, December 7th, 1941, my husband and I were driving to Ann Arbor to see his parents. We heard the news of the attackon Pearl Harbor on the car radio and were dumbstruck. How could this have happened to the USA - an unprovoked attack that destroyed much of our naval fleet? We listened in disbelief, as the dreadful words entered our consciousness.
We knew that war was brewing; but we thought that the U.S. would be able to choose the time and place to enter the fray. Actually, it never had occurred to us that we would be so vulnerable - and that the initial cost would be so high.
In one Sunday morning's time, our whole world was turned topsy-turvy.From that moment on, every thing in our lives changed. The Draft was nipping at the heels of all the young men; and their women dreaded going to the mail box to receive that letter of "Greetings" from the government.
I can well understand how the military wives of today are constantly tortured in their minds. I know their anguish about the welfare of their men, as they struggle to maintain the daily life of themselves and their children.
Five weeks after my first child was born, my husband was inducted into the U.S. Air Force at Fort Sheridan in Chicago.
The $50.00 per month allowance I received as a service man's wife, could not pay my bills. The rent on the house we were living in was $50.00 per month. And, that did not include the cost of utilities - or any other living expenses.
I did, as so many other young mothers were forced to do, moved in with my parents. In my case, this was not easy on grandma and grandpa. I, their only child, was born when they were in their 40's; and, by this time, they had put in a full lifetime of hard work and were ready to retire.
But, we were a nation united in spirit and resolve, and there was very little grumbling. Almost all of the able-bodied men were in the service. I remember the old song: "They're either too young or too old - they're either too gray or too grassy green". It was a strange world without young men.
If you lived in an area where there were no military facilities, you found that almost all young males were gone.Since most of the military facilities were on the coasts or in the south, the north was devoid of any young men.Those women who could work outside the home went to work in the factories. Their lives were all forever changed, too.
Life was so different. We were faced with rationing - something new to us. There were ration stamps for gasoline, butter, cheese, fats, meat,and so many other items we had previously taken for granted.
Manufacturing of domestic items had practically stopped - no more new cars, appliances, furniture, rubber nipples for baby bottles, paper, metals of any types,safety pins, nylons . No more rubber for automobile tires; we had to have the tires recapped over and over.The list went on and on.
All the baby items, like baby buggies, play pens and other manufactured items were no longer being made. Every thing had to be bought second hand.
In those days we had cloth diapers for babies; and I can remember thatlarge safety pins had to be hoarded, as you could not buy new ones..Even after they became rusty and decrepit, we pressed them into service. I soon learned that these pins could be stored in soft bars of soap and could be made usable. Of course, they left big rusty marks on the diapers; but, at least, they served the purpose.
Rubber pants were no longer available, either. So, we knitted wool"soakers" to try to confine the problem. Soakers was a good name for them. they just soaked up the leakage until they were full, and then the major dripping would start over any person or surface that were in contact with them..
You could not buy new baby bottles, so my son's habit of tossing the empties over the side of the crib caused great concern as glass went shattering all over the floor.And, woe be onto you, if the baby chewed through the worn out rubber nipple, there were no replacements to be had.
The fact that shoes were rationed to two pairs per year was not ahardship for me, at all; I had no money to buy two pairs of shoes in one year!
Every household that had a member in the service displayed an emblem with a blue star in the front window. If the service person perished,you received an emblem with a gold star. Thus, The Gold Star Mothers.
My mother and I taught knitting at the Red Cross to make woolen socks and gloves and scarves, to keep the overseas soldiers warm. My mother who had learned to knit in Europe, taught me - and we taught all the Red Cross volunteers the same method. The only trouble was that the European style of knitting puts all the stitches on the needle backwards. But, this style of knitting allowed you to tuck both knitting needles under your arms, and all your fingers were free to fly like the wind. I wonder how many of today's knitters, who were taught by their mothers and grandmothers, are unwittingly putting all their stitches on backwards?
There were no cell phones or other modern methods of communication that we enjoy today. When my step-son was in Kuwait, during The Desert Storm in the 80's, we would fax each other whenever possible.
At the time of World War II. you depended upon the mail. You sent your letters to an A.P.O. address when your serviceman was overseas. All letters were censored, which often delayed their receipt.
Many messages were delivered to us by "wire" (telegrams), with a messenger ringing the doorbell to deliver the message to you. This was quite the fearsome moment when you saw the uniformed man approach your door, as this was the method usually used to deliver news of someone's death;
There were written reports in newspapers and magazines by War Correspondents to tell us the news from the battlegrounds. We did receive radio reports, but there were no graphic daily television programs to bring the war into our living rooms.
The movies had News Reels to show different events; and many movies were made to stir up patriotism - as well as to vilify the enemy. Many innocent people who had emigrated to the U.S. from countries with which we were now at war, were ostracized. All Japanese citizens on our west coast were put into Special Detention Camps. Many innocent people suffered from discrimination.
It was a "far-away" war, but our hearts were filled with constant worry. During the years between 1941 and 1945, our lives were changed forever.
V-E Day (Victory in Europe) and V-J Day (Victory in Japan) were occasions for unfettered joy. People all over the United States joined in the celebrations. I was fortunate enough to be at Fort Benning,Georgia, when V-J and the end of all hostilities was announced. You never saw any thing like it! Guards left their stations, and all personnel just took off from the base without leave. Cars streamed into Columbus, Ga. and the jubilant celebrations went on all night long! I'll never forget the jubilation of that day in 1945!
Termite Damage - and my personal feelings about nature in all its glory
Since termites can be more of a problem in warmer climates, I have Terminix check my house and property every six months. So far, so good - but they do spray for ants and they are not a problem.
My neighbors, especially the ones that go by every day walking their dogs, tell me how beautiful my house is starting to look. It is almost done. I must admit that the siding, roof, new outdoor lighting, shutters, etc. do look good. It was beginning to look shabby. If you want to keep your property looking good, you have to be vigilant with maintenance. The house is 22-23 years old and had Masonite siding. That siding surely went to pot. The windows and doors didn't look too hot, either. And, of course, the back deck and wooden screen doors (that the puppy dog chewed) looked pretty bad.
All that is being fixed - costs money, but I will enjoy it myself - and it will add to the value of this property when it has to be sold. Unfortunately, I can't stay here forever.
My neighbors are putting in elaborate, albeit expensive, landscaping. Their newly constructed homes built downhill on the mountain have severe ground erosion problems. Developer either don't know, or don't care, what will result from their denuding the forests on these steep pieces of land. The roots of enormous trees and 30 ft. bushes, that have entwined over the years and that hold the ground together, are torn (unceremoniously) out of the ground and hauled away to be mulched. They assure you that they will replant trees and bushes - and, they do - sort of. But the small trees and bushes they replace the huge towering forest with can in no way do the job that their forebears were doing.
And, that is why - my heart is heavy when I see these forested mountains being denuded. Landslides and floods result when Mother Nature is fooled around with. Sad - but I guess this is the price we pay for "progress?".
Luckily, my trees and bushes have grown strong and tall in the years since my house was built. And, I am sure that many of them were the original fauna - for they are huge - their trunks and branches reaching high into the sky.
So, I do not have a cultivated yard. No, mine is a tangle of native forest land. But, that's just the way I like it. The squirrels and birds and deer appreciate it and scurry around in the mulch that the fallen leaves has formed through the many seasons that have passed. And, I revel in the fact that I don't have a lawn mower - and have no desire to be a slave to one, ever again.
I have become completely mountain-oriented. Of course, I have always been an environmentalist - at heart. But, since I have lived here, with the beauties of nature surrounding me, I have become ever so much more appreciative of the gifs that have been bestowed upon us. I feel that we must appreciate and treasure this legacy that we have inherited; and do all that we possibly can to help preserve it.
I love to observe the magnificent scenery around me; especially under changng weather circumstances. Last night we had a gentle rain. When this was combined with the freezing temperature, everything outside was clothed in a delicate coverlet of thin ice. Beautiful to look at, but not so jolly to be walking around in or driving these mountain roads. As the freezing rain hits the black asphalt pavement, we are hemmed in by dangerous "black ice".
This happens so seldom, and is whisked away so quickly by the warmth of the winter sun, that I don't mind it at all. I cozy up to a crackling fire in the huge stone fireplace, and take time to rejuvenate my inner being.
This morning, as I awoke, I gazed out of my bedroom window and beheld every thing through a thick gray mist. There were tiny little icycles about 1 to 2" in length, delicate and slender, hanging from every surface in view. Then, suddenly, a brilliant, golden sun burst through the mist. And that sun was riding high in a sky of turquoise blue. There was nary a wisp of a cloud to invade the expanse of glorious jewel-like sky.
I saw something I had not seen before on an icy clad morning because I was not looking up! On previous occasions, I would rush to my screened porch and look down at the forest in the ravine below or obseve the majestic mountains in the distance. But, this time, I looked up!
Our house is surrounded by towering trees, that are as straight as an arrow as they reach for the warmth of the sky. The lower portions of these trees do not have branches. Rather, the tops have a dome-like covering of tiny branches way above your head. The blazing sun was backlighting the delicate tracery of frozen droplets, as they glistened in that sea of brilliant blue.
I was in awe, as I beheld the glorious beauty that the Creator had blessed us with, after the sudden cold snap. The delicate white of the glistening embroidery was breathtakiing. Never have I seen any thing like it - but, then, I had previously been looking down or sideways into the distance; when I should have been looking up!
Up North, we children used to break off huge icycles which could be measured in feet. These made excellent dueling swords; albeit resulting in icy wet mittens and cold fingers, with nary a serious wound.
The huge icycles would come tumbliing down as massive, dangerous shards of ice - when the sun would loosen their holds. And, woe be onto you, if you got bonked in the head by one of these falling missles. They, and sometimes the branches they were attached to, would come thundering down - making much noise as they fell.
Today these slender little ice wispettes just came pattering down quietly; with enough moisture to splatter you with water and possibly a good dousing if you stayed outside long enough.
Then, I surveyed my many flowering bushes to see how they had survived the night. My huge, prize wild flaming azalea bush, devoid of leaves, was still a thing of startling beauty. It was a mass of rosy colored branches covered with a thin coating of ice and shimmering in the sunlight. Little buds sat at the end of the branches, waiting for spring.
The bush is landscaped by the deer which come to visit us regularly. They can't reach the topmost branches, so they just prune the lower bush into a lovely umbrella shape; and, all at no cost to us.
The majestic rhododendrons, tower over my head. (Of course, at 5 ft. 4" tall, most everything towers over my head!) The waxy green leaves have changed their shapes, bowed down by the layer of delicate ice. They now have clusters of leaves that look like half-opened umbrellas! Atop each cluster, sits a big fat flower bud. Those Rhodies never give up - nature which surrounds them gives them the knowledge that Spring is not too far behind.
My silly old daffodils which poked their unwary green shoots into the air in January, only to find some winter temperatures, quickly withdrew their shoots into the warmth of nature's bosom. They have learned their lesson, I believe. Because this time, they did not venture forth.They just stayed underground, awaiting warmer climates..
No wonder I had never seen this particular beauty of winter. I had been looking in the wrong place in the past. I should have been looking up!
Here I was in Brevard, the land of over 250 waterfalls. However, I thought I would never see one except for the Connestee Falls on our property!
To reach the most spectaculr falls, involves quite a bit of mountain hiking which I could never negotiate. So, I bought paintings and photographs and videos of the waterfalls. I accepted the fact that I probably would never see them for myself.
Well, today, October 25th, 2003, provided a marvelous oppotunity to visit three of the largest, waterfalls and I was quick to take advantage of this "Tour".The volunteers." Friends of DuPont Forest", arranged a tour by large vans to take us through the forest to view these secluded beauties. What a rare opportunity for us!
When DuPont owned this property, thousands of acres of wilderness were all privately owned land.. The forest was used primarily as recreation area for the benefit of the employees. However, when DuPont closed their plant (it produced photographic camera film which is being abandoned for the new digital cameras), a large developer purchased the property. His intention was to build a community of upscale homes. Lovely Lake Julia and the waterfalls would then be for the enjoyment of only those people who bought property in the development.
A large group of volunteers from our Transylvania County {and from neignboring North Carolina counties and the nearly state of South Carolina), formed an association to save the forest and its magnificent water features for the enjoyment of all citizens. These good folks volunteer their time to keep up the roads and trails and the forest, contriibuting many hours of devoted labor.
They lobbied the North Carolina government to purchase the land from the developer. They were successful and the DuPont Forest is now a state willderness area. As such it can be acesssed only by hikers,non-motrized bikers, non-motor boats and by fishermen using only artificial bait.
To drive a car into the forest, you have to be given a special permit and that is not easily obtainable. There is no camping in the forest. Everything is planned to keep it safe from fire and as pristine as possible, to preserve it for us and the generations of people who will follow us..
My friend, Alice, and I arrived at the gate to the forest early in the morning. In fact, we were the third couple in line when the tour opened.
The volunteers greeted us with hot apple cider and home-made cookies and cakes. We boarded the first van and were off on our long-awaited adventure. There were hundreds of people who arrived later in the day, but the early participants we encountered were all senior citizens. Like us, these were folks who never would have been able to hike those precipitous trails to see these magnificent falls.
We were in what looked like a brand new van holding 15 people. We drove up and down narrow, unpaved one-way dirt roads - seemingly right through the foresst. It certainly was a good thing that the driver knew where he was going and how to drive over wild land to get there.
The vans drove us to the best spots to view the falls for those of us who could not hike the trails..
Our first stop was at The Triple Falls.(150 feet of falling water in three sections); How glorious this was, surrounded by the multi-colored fall trees. An early morning mist still hung over the top falls area. None of us were able to scramble down the steep grainite walls to reach the water, but we had a tremendous view from the vantage point where our van drove us.
Back into the van. And that was a scramble in itself - we old gals did our best to jump in. Or scramgle unceremoniously, but we made it! We then visited High Falls. To reach the slope on foot would have been a 900 ft. steep cllimb to witness one waterfall drop of 120 ft. This was a spectacular, roaring sight. It was featured in the movie "The Last of the Mohicans" where the actors sought refuge by hiding behind the falls. I guess they must have been adept at mountain climbing.
Each year, the falls claim their victims (usually tourists) as folks gets into the water above the falls, not realizing that the force of the water will carry them over the precipice. The constant mist formed by the roaring water clothes the rocky banks, making them slippery and dangerous..
Back into the van. By this time, we know how ]ridiculous we look climbing to our seats, but we don't care. We are finally seeing the falls.
The third falls we viewed, Bridal Veil Falls, was completely different. The water drop fanned out into a bridal veil shape as it spilled over a huge granite rock.
We concluded our tour by visiting the large lodge that sits on the shores of Lake Julia. This placid lake had nary a ripple on it, as it mirrored the stand of multi-colored trees that surround the lake. Again, we were treated to hot cider and home-made goodies.
Stuffed as we were with those diet-breakers, we barely made the climb back into the van. Which was quite a feat! We only banged our heads two or three times on the entire trip. The van then drove us back to the parking lot where our cars were awaiting us.
It was a thrilling, unforgettable experience on a beautiful day, filled with sunshine and bright blue skies. We were thrilled and thankful that we got to see nature's bounty in all its glory. This was all made possible through the efforts of volunteers who strive to protect our environmnt.
An all day, all night, and all next day big storm on St. Patrick's Day - coming cross river from the Northeast - torn down the top part of our 170 ft. of steel seawall and chewed up about 30 ft. of land. 4 ft. in depth. It left a nice sandy beach for the grand children to play in. (protected from the deep river by what was left of the steel seawall.)
I called a local company to come fill in the big hole in our front yard - and they told me that I had to call the state offices to get a permit to dredge and fill in the hole. I thought this should be a simple matter, and that with some logical explanations of what had occurred I would receive permission to repair the land the storm had caused so much havoc.
Simple matter? Yes, to any rational thinking person, this procedure should be quite the rational one to follow - but to the pencil pushers in Lansing, this was a very complicated matter that needed much documentation and paperwork.
I called Lansing and finally got the right (?) person on the line. I explained my plight, about the storm and all, and about the steel seawall having had its top torn off and the resulting high wave action taking the land out 170 ft. wide by 30 feet to a depth of about 4 ft.
I had reached a very officious individual, drunk with power over this helpless little old lady with the big hole in the front of the yard.
I explained that I wanted to have a permit to dredge land out of the river to fill in the hole. He said: "How many cubic feet of land are you going to dredge?" I said, "Well, I don't know. I just want to fill up the hole that is there."
He said, "Lady (and I hate that salutation), you can't just take land out of the river without telling me how many cubic feet you are asking permission to dredge."
I said "What does it matter how many cubic feet are dredged, it is just to fill up the hole". And then he said what I was expecting: "Well, you have to pay for the land by the cubic foot that you want to take out of the river."
Aha, now I was on to the whole diabolical business. Permits - and money, too. I knew this was part of government boondoggling and no way was I going to win, but I thought I might as well get a little fun out of my go-around with this nincompoop. So, I started in with my "I don't understand routine".
I said, "You don't understand. I am not taking anything from the river. The river took this land from me without a permit and I just want it back." He said, "How much land are you wanting to take from the river?"
I said, "No, no - you're not understanding me. Now listen more carefully. I will go over the whole thing once more only more slowly, so you will understand. This was my land that the river took. I pay taxes on it, proving that it belongs to me. I just want the land back that the river took from me." He said, "Lady, you are going to have to tell me how much land you are going to take out of the river."
I said, "Now, I can see that you have not understood what I was telling you. I will go over it all again, but more slowly this time, so you will be more likely to understand. This is my land. I am not taking anything away from the river, as you seem to have miscomprehensions about. I have before pictures, and I will take after pictures for your benefit. I promise you that I will not take one more teaspoon of land than what the river took from me."
He said, quite exasperated by now, "You will have to have a permit and pay for the land." Again, I said " You are not listening, apparently. Or you're not understanding what I am saying. I will explain it again, but in simpler terms this time."
And he said: "never mind, Lady. I will send you the printed booklet explaining the whole procedure. You can then apply for your permit and send us a check for the cubic feet you are planning to take out of the river." And with that, he hung up. He was so agitated, I thought he was going to blow a gasket.
I ended up applying for, and getting the permit. Paying for the cubic feet of land which the river took from me without a permit and without reimbursing me.
But, I got some sadistic bit of enjoyment out of the exchange with the official.
This greeting, with the bird and the champagne bottle, reminded me of a very hilarious scene that was played out on the deck of my St. Clair River home each year.
There was a large choke cherry tree growing in a well in the deck. These cherries would fall on the deck - lie in the sunlight - and ferment.
The big-rosy-chested doves were well aware of the feast that awaited them. Each year they would show up to gorge themselves on the fermented fruit. They would scurry around the deck, in a drunken stupor, falling over, bumping into walls and each other, and they were just a hoot to watch. They must have communicated to their brethren about the alcoholic feast that lay awaiting them, because each year more and more of them would show up to partake.
If I hadn't observed it with my own eyes, I would never have believed how they reveled in the debauchery of their drunken states. They put on this performance outside of my window every year, without fail.
It made me realize that humans, also, could make fools of themselves with the heady stuff. We don't often attribute such behavior to birds. But, I often witnessed it with sea gulls - in another manner. When the winter ice would break up and come swiftly down the fast current of the St. Clair River, the sea gulls would hitch a ride on a big hunk of floating ice - ride down the river for a couple miles - and then fly upstream to find another ice berg for a free ride. They were, very obviously, enjoying the experience.
I send my best wishes to all of you for a happy, healthy and prosperous new year - and, most of all, I wish for peace on earth.
Summer in Connestee Falls. 2023, by Lorraine Miller
Well, here we are almost at the end of June. The days fly by in happy profusion. When you are content in your world, the days, weeks, months, and years pass so quickly. You are astounded when you look at the calendar (or you have to write a check), to see how late it is getting to be in your life.
Remember when you were a little tyke and it seemed forever from Thanksgiving to Christmas? Now, as I am messing around in my 80's, I wonder where all the years went by. They just slipped by! So many of them - can it be true that I am 84 years old? I don't feel like 84.
The other day I was musing: if I had my life to live over again, what would I do differently? And I came to the conclusion that I would probably do it all the same way again. Because, after all I am me!
What I regret the most is that I don't have the strength or the energy that I used to have. Aggravating, but there it is - and it cannot be changed.
Connestee Falls still sings its compelling song to me as I revel in its beauty. I never lived in a forested mountain area before in my life and I thoroughly love it. I never tire of admiring the majestic mountains.
Today the furthermost layers of mountains had a mysterious cloak of mist that hung on their shoulders: soft and subdued, and in the distance. The nearer mountains were rife with verdant greenery; so healthy looking and full of a sprintime of rain that replenished their innards.
The ferns have thrived in that rain-forest environment; springing to life under all the trees and cloaking the banks. They make a lacey, delicate background as they anchor the trees that tower above them to the fertile gound below.
I never cease to be amazed that with all these trees and rain there are so few mosquitos! Very seldom do I see a fly. Strange! But I am not complaining.
Today as I took the puppy-dog out for a walk, we saw two deer standing at the top of our hill. It was a gawking party; with us standing very still watching and them doing the same thing as they gave us the once-over.
I know that some of my neighbors complain about the deer eating their flowers. I can understand how frustraing that must be to them; but I don't mind one bit if they eat some of mine. Just to have a chance to scrutinize them up close, is worth a Hosta or two to me. I know that deer are a disaster if you happen to hit one with your car; but I don't think there is much danger of that on our Connestee roads. because they don't leap or run...they just stand there bemused, looking at us.
Some of my neighbors have reported that they saw a bear. One lady said a big black bear was on her deck of her house! Now, that would cause me some concern, I'll admit. But I don't think there are many bears around here. I know that, should I see one, I will not bother him one bit! I will just let him lumber along his way without any interference from me.
The Whippet puppy dog, L'Esprit of Connestee Falls, is almost eight months old now and is a thing of beauty; albeit a little rascal. But he is such a lovable rascal that he fills our days with wonder and amazement. Just to see him run and gallop and jump never ceases to amaze me. (How, I wish I were agile enough to do that!). By the way, he has perfect control of his movements, he can stop on a dime or skillfully maneuver his way around obstacles. And, daily, he is enlarging his vocabulary of words he understands, and finding ways to make us comprehend his needs.
Looking at the national weather reports I saw reports of temperatures in the high 90's and even 100's in other parts of the country; many of them being to the far noth of us. We have had nothing like that. The delightful part to me is how cool it gets at night. Reminds me of when we were on the island in the St. Clair Flats. Evening-time always brought cool breezes, replete with the sweet smell of the Channels and the waves lapping at the shore singing their lullabys. Once you have savored the unforgettable aroma of the river, you never forget it.
I was fortunate during my young days to have had the delightful experience of spending my summers on McDonald's Island in the St. Clair Flats of Michigan. And, now, during the latter years of my life, I have found that same peace and joy in this God-blessed Appalachian country of Western North Carolina. (I put in 59-1/2 years of time spent in the working world, in between, but this is my reward. And I am grateful).
My love affair with the Flats never waned and I don't foresee a time when I won't be filled with wonder and appreciation of this delightful Transylvania County!
Just returned last night, by car, from a 790 mile trip to the SW mountains of N.C. - very close to the mountains of S.C.
Where there are no harsh winters. When it does snow, it melts the next day. Their temperatures, according to the national weather service, are 10 to 15 degrees warmer than ours in Michigan in the winter time and only 1 degree hotter in the summer. The folks there play golf all year around, except for an occasional winter snow day.
They do have four distinct weather seasons. New England (and Michigan) have glorious fall colors, and so do the Appalachian mountains. People come from far and near in November to see the magnificent colors.
In April through May, the mountains area bloom with flowering trees and bushes, glorious azaleas and rhododendrons and mountain laurel.
The Appalachians are the oldest mountain chain in the world and are softly rounded - almost feminine in nature - with layer upon layer of green, purple, mauve, dark gray, light gray fading into the distance.
Brevard is the county seat of Transylvania County. It has a small college of 1000 students (used to be a music college and is a Methodist college). During the `month of May they have a month-long festival with big name entertainers as well as graduate students. There also are mountain and country music free nights, with dancing in the streets.since it was chosen the @1 retirement spot by Money Magazine it has been invaded by many wealthy Northerners to enjoy its winters and Floridians to enjoy its summers. They even come from central S.C. for the cool summers.
Surprisingly, he invaders have left their cold nature's back north and have adopted the easy pace and friendliness of the Southerners! It is a delightful oases of peace and beauty - a Camelot - rare in this day and age.
Brevard is surrounded by the Pisquah National Forest, thousands of as.acres donated by Vanderbilt to the U.S to be kept unspoiled, so the little city has very little distance to expand. There is the most beautiful Assisted Living and Nursing Home connected to the Methodist College that I have ever seen. Quit expensive - but I had the foresight - after witnessing the atrocious places in this area - to buy insurance to cover me should I have to go there. hope I never will - but, if I do, I am covered.
Up - one mile higher and 8 miles of roadway - on a mountain is Connestee Falls. It is a gated community, in beautiful mountain country, with a lovely large club house, many activities, a heated pool, tennis courts and a lovely golf course. This is a magnificent community f about 1000 residents - no more can be built, since it has reached its quota from the four spring fed lakes for water. It has many lakes within its boundaries.
There are many activities planned there, an auditorium, a dance floor, etc. etc.
Anyway, I have put in an offer on a house there and it has been accepted by the seller. I am now waiting for a report from the Inspector - an, if all is well, will go ahead.
It has two houses in one . upstairs would be mine, with only one step to climb; and downstairs would be my son's who can still climb stairs should I need him by answering a little bell I would ring.
My upstairs, has a big Living rom with a stone fireplace, a good kitchen and dining room, a very large master bedroom and bathroom suite, a second bedroom at the other end of the house almost as big as the master and a third bedroom I would use as an office. It also has drier and washer space, and an enclosed and screened sunroom with skylights...and an electrically operated one car garage, ad a large deck.
Downstairs, my son would have his own washer and drier, living room Large master bedroom, bathroom with jacuzzi tub, 2nd bedroom, kitchen and a cover4d screened porch. There would also b room for parking three additional cars under the deck area.
There s a distant mountain view in the summer which you can see more plainly in the rest of the year when the leaves are off the trees. They have a mixture of NORTHERN and Southern trees there.
Taxes last year were $640.00. Will probably go up. Very little outdoor maintenance. There will be flies in the ointment, I'm sure, but one can't have every thing - just do the best you can.
I will be living separately from my son - he can have his friends visit and I can have mine. But, should I need him he will be nearby to help me and is very willing to do so. In our family, so far, we have always taken care of our elders ourselves.
We shall see what we shall see. All told, we have about 3000 square feet between the two houses. And, all for less, than I paid for this 1890 sq ft one 18 months ago in Mi.
January: Jack Frost comes to visit our land of multi-colored mountains
I saw something on this chilly morning that I had not seen since I was a little girl. Jack Frost had embelished my car's windshield with a lacey all-over pattern of fragile, beautiful star-like white snowflakes..
When I was a child, we had windows with single panes of glass that did not sport the luxury of weather stripping, Jack Frost would often come to visit us during the winter nights. He would paint these amazing, sparkling, mysterious snowflakes all over our windows. We children were enchanted with the beauty of this wintry wonderland that covered the window in front of us. We would use our warm breaths to make little holes in the scene he had painted, so we could view the world outside - and greet the day.
Unfortunately, being a grown-up lady with a doctor's appointment to meet in a neighboring town, I did not have the luxury of admiring the beauty that lay before me for very long.
Since I am not accustomed to clearing winter wonderfland works off my windshield any more, I did not even have an ice-scraper in my car. But. ingenuity came to the fore. I went into the house and brought forth a teflon spatula. Then, I unceremoniously removed all that delicate tracery from my windshield, and started my eight mile journey down the mountain.
Then, about 1/2 way down the mountain, I was treated to another January sight. When I visited Brevard, several years ago, I (like most tourists) I bought some cards to send to my friends back in Michigan. I was especially drawn to a folder with painted layers of mountains. Each layer was bathed in bright hues, ranging from pink to rose - to light lavendar, to purple, and faintly sporting a misty mauve on the top mountain layer..
I said to myself: "This card is beautiful, but the artist has employed artisitic license to obtain this colorful, beautiful result." The mountains, as I have perceived them through the last few years, were either verdand green in the spring and summer, or bursting with multi-hued autumn colors in the fall, or dusty green and tan in the winter. Occasionally, I did see, during a cold winter, a distant tall mountain that had a white cap of snow on its head. And, sometimes, I beheld the Purple Mountain Majesties.
However, today, I got started on my drive down Hwy. 276 much earlier that I usually drag myself out of bed to drive down the mountain,
And I saw it! The multi-colored layers of mountains that the artist had portrayed! The sun had been up for a couple hours on its faithful quest to warm our world. The bright sun hung just above the mountains, a big sphere, shining intensely, as it does in this area.. But, miracle of miracles, there were all the beautiful colors, lighting up each layer of the mountains - just as the artist had painted them!
What I assumed was artistic license on the artist's part, was an actual portrayal of what lay before me. It was an awe-inspiring sight, and something I had never had the pleasure of seeing before. What a thrilling discovery that was!
Then, driving home, just before a huge sun-sphere sank into the back of a mountain, I was again treated to something I had never witnessed before. At this time of year, the woods look so desolate. You are surrounded by a brown, tan, and sometimes black stand of tall leaf-less trees and bushes, awaiting the advent of spring.
Then, with the reflection of the setting sun, these dreary sentinels of woodland nature, took on the most beautiful bright rosy pink hue. The woods was simply bathed in this glow. Every thing around me had been transformed in one glorious moment, I had never seen anything like it. It was thrilling and exciting; but in a few moments the radiant color disappeared.
It was a symbol to me that God's in his world; and, even though, the worries of the day envelop you, the world is suddenly transformed and you feel the peace of renewed hope for the future of all mankind.
I guess the deer brought their little fawn for a last visit on their run through the woods and to my doorstep.
They have just started tearing down the brush and sapling trees in that wooded area. There was an enormous bang and my house shook, as enormous trees were being pulled out of the ground.
It was with great sadness that I saw them go. I have always been a nature lover and I regret to its bounty lost forever.
I know that the deer eat flowers, etc. - personally, I have only three plants: Hostas. I know that Hostas are a deer's favorite food - so I planted them for them to munch happily away. Other than that, my property has only wooded area, underbrush, enormous rhododendron and azalea bushes, and native mountain laurel and magnolias to bloom plus a huge assortment of wild flowers to bloom profusely in the spring.
We DON'T have any grass - and we don't want any! What a relief to be free of a lawn mower - nothing to feed or fertilize!Nature takes care of our wooded area, thank you. Remarkably, the undergrowth keeps down the weeds - in fact, I don't see any - just delicate ferns.
So, another view of nature's bounty is being erased. Call me a sentimentalist, if you must. But this old gal holds a soft spot in her heart for all things in natural state. Wisely, mother nature has blanketed these steep slopes with verdant woods, preventing mud slides and floods.
If I had the money, I'd buy all 4000 acres in Connestee Falls..
I believe I wrote you about how distraught I was with the deeply wooded lot next to mine being stripped down to bare ground.That was right on a deer run, where the deer used to com through on their way to my house to chomp on my hostas.
The builder dug a big steep cliff-like hole where they intend to put the basement of the mountain home they will be building there.
Well, this evening as I looked out my window I saw a mama deer and her little baby come into that clearing. They seemed completely bewildered with the change. They ran all around the hole; and finally the mama took one big leap and cleared the cliff and was on the ground in front of the house-to-be.
The poor little baby fawn, could not jump that high. It ran around and around - and finally over to the side where it was flat. Went over and investigated the big machinery with its big basket-mouth. Sniffed all around it - and I ran to get my camera.
I intended to take a picture through my window, so as not to disturb the fawn. I thought it would make a statement picture.
Well, by the time I got back with my camera the little fawn was gone. I could not see the mama anywhere. So I don't know what happened to them.I missed a great pathos picture, darn it.
I was wondering if the building contractor who rented the house next to that lot was looking out of his window. But, by the way he raped the land, I'm sure he would not have sensed he moment - or even realized the drama of that scene.
from Lorraine to her friends Datum: maandag 30 september 2002 19:19
My son called me to come to the window of my front door - and there were four deer and one little baby. They were all munching on my weeds! (Much better than a lawn mower - we do not have a lawn mower since we moved to Connestee, N.C.).
They were completely unafraid. There has been no hunting in Connestee for fourteen years. I could see their faces and big brown eye so clearly. They looked sleek and gentle. It gave us such a warm feeling to be so close to these creatures.
How wonderful it is to live in harmony with nature. (I suppose that is what it was like in the Galapagos Islands where the wild creatures didn't used to have any fear of human beings.)
The deer have a "run" from my house through the woods at the side of my house and down the ravine of the mountain. I have seen them traverse this run before, but never so close to the house.
Unfortunately, a developer is going to take down a lot of those trees in that lot next door to me. They plan to build another home right there. I feel sad with the thought that more of this beautiful woodland will be lost forever.
Our shoreline at the cottage on McDonald's Island was about 300 ft. from the channel bank of the Middle Channel of the St. Clair River. Since my mother was in her 70's and loved to fish for the big ones, my father built a long dock, right to the channel bank and the deeper water. Mother was 4 ft. 10" tall and tiny, so when she put her blue jeans on (in a time when women in general did not wear blue jeans) and her knitted wool cap and went to the end of the dock at daybreak she looked like a little boy standing out there. She would be the first one up, and out there fishing for walleye, bass or pike. She caught them, too; but was not strong enough to pull them in if they were large. So, she would holler my husband's name for him to go out and help her. He would dress, trudge out to the end of the dock, pull in the fish, put it on the stringer and come back to bed. No sooner would he be comfortably settled and he would hear her calling for him again. Same routine: dress, go out there, take care of the fish, etc. Finally, he just laid down on an easy chair on the porch and gave in to the inevitable. My mother knew no fear, and although she could not swim a stroke was not afraid of the water. One time she hooked a very large pike, which she was able to pull in and flop on the dock. As it flopped there, it got off the hook, got back in the water, and lay there a little stunned by its experience. My mother jumped right in after that fish, (swim or no swim) grabbed him by the eyeballs and scrambled back on the dock. She declared: "No fish is going to get away from me once I catch him", as she made her triumphal march back to the cottage to wake us ALL up and display her trophy fish. She must have been 75 or 76 at that time. Yes, mother was a strong little character who enjoyed life. Lorraine
Last year, my first year in this glorious section of the country, I didn't take much notice of the miracles of nature outside my window. Instead, I was huddled under the covers for two months with that nasty scourge: Shingles! But this year I was ready for the mountains and the fields, the hills and valleys, to put their show out for me as they sprag into glorious Spring. And what a show they are putting on! In February we had our daffodils come poking their cheerful little heads out of the leaf-covered ground. Of course, those courageous pansies with their happy llittle faces were with us all winter.
We had an unusually cold winter this year - four snow falls. Not too heavy on the white stuff and it soon melted in the 50 and 60 degree temperatures. We even had ice hanging from our bushes and trees - that soon puddled up. The winter sun in these mountains amazes me - it feels so warm (almost hot) on your head and back. Of course, the sun is usually sailing through a field of cloudless bright blue and can gather steam on its journey.
Then came April and plentiful rain - we moaned about it, but cherished the water that was nourishing our soil. And, lo and behold, after about four days of grumbling about the wet weather - every thing suddenly burst into bloom!
Our deciduous trees which looked so stark and barren a few days before had suddenly a coat of delicate pale-yellow-green leaves. All along the highway from Brevard to Asheville we were amazed by grove after grove of fruit trees in bloom - pink and white. I even saw a lavender tree (that was a first for me).
The banks along the sides of the roads were covered with pink, rose, white, and lavender - just spilling out all over.
Amazing. And inspiring.
The trees are still lacy and we can see the mountains in the distance. The very tops of those mountains still have a rusty appearance, just waiting their turn to catch up with the forest below them.
This is a particularly interesting part of the country. We are at the climate line which supports both pine and deciduous trees - all of these interspersed by huge rhododendron and azalea bushes. And by huge, I mean way over my head. 10-20 ft. high and more.
They have not yet come into bloom. My poor rhododendron in front of my house! These huge plants bravely put out big buds all winter - and four times they were nipped by frosty-ice.
I was out there giving them the once over today, and there are plenty of buds there. Hope they forgive this fickle winter we had, and come out in their blazing magenta magnificence as they did last year. And so, I am filled with awe, again.
I asked the editor of our local paper if she ever tired of looking at the mountains, or got so accustomed to having them there that she barely gave them a glance after all these yeas of living in close proximity.
She said, "No, never". Good, may I see many more seasons and enjoy this bounty that nature has just saturated our surroundings with beauty.
Actually, in the "olden days" of the Great Depression, I was in high school. (from 1934 to 1936). It was a regulation at that time, in a public school, that girls could not wear make -up in school. Some of the girls did sneak to the bathroom and put lipstick on - but when their reddened lips were discovered by a faculty member, they were sent back to the bathroom to wash it off.There was no such goings-on as eye-makeup or rouge or eyebrow stuff. (Of course, we didn't have the allowance power to buy these things any way. My allowance was 10 cents per week).Ten cents went a long way in those days. For five cents, you could buy a big triple dipper ice cream cone that had been so lavishly put on the cone that great big blobs would hang over the sides. We used to walk a couple miles to the Johnson Dairy store where these excesses of dessert were available. This was often the big event when you had a date - he would walk you to get an ice cream cone! I only knew one young man that had his own automobile - and that was a black Ford with a rumble seat. Riding in the rumble seat was not too pleasant an experience, as wind and dust blew into your eyes. Ten cents could also buy you a lavish banana split, which was a big extravagance.
It cost six cents for a student to ride the street car from Southeastern High School at Mack near St. Jean to the end of the line on Warren & Barham. I lived just a short distance from there. I would guess it was a distance of about five miles.
This street car went through a vast open field, by the place where the Connor Creeks flowed. This field was rather swampy and the tracks were not too solid.
WE students would go to the back of the car, the rounded portion, and stand there swaying back and forth while we hung on to the leather straps. That was a big thrill and we would laugh and sing songs. I'll bet the older passengers were pretty annoyed with these raucous young kids!
The conductor would call out the names of the streets; and since we knew them all - we would sing them along with him! To this day I can name quite a lot of the streets in their proper order.
My friend Ethel (Of 79 years, since we were 5 years old) and I often test our memories and recall the names of all those streets. When the weather was good, Ethel and I often walked home that five or so miles to save the six cents! When we could inveigle some boy to carry our books and walk us home,that was quite an event. We did not offer to share the saved six cents with him, however!
Without makeup, or permanents in our hair, we were just like what God made us. What you saw, was what you got. I can remember dousing my hair with beer, and putting it all into bobby pin curls. That was an attempt to beautify that never succeeded - my hair was so baby fine that the curls would not stand up to the slightest breeze.
When you see movies of that era, or snapshots, or yearbook pictures = we gals all had the same hair=do. Our bobby pins results in a bunch of curls around the side of the face and the bottom of the back, usually with a mass of bangs hanging in the front. Of course, I didn't resort to much of that beautifying stuff until I got to the university - where the competition was more fierce.
There were seven fellas to every girl at the University of Michigan at that time.I think I had more than my quota of dates. Of course, some of the gals which were referred to as "goons" in those days) never had a date - so that raised the percentage for the rest of us.
One time, Ethel, her sister Norma, and I went to downtown Detroit, and risked being banished from our homes by getting a permanent. We had saved quite a lot of six cents-es by that time.
We walked up a rickety set of wooden steps to one of the new beauty shops that that had opened on Woodward. There we found huge metal semi-circular affairs that were hung from the ceiling. This was one of the first permanents available, and it was called a Spiral. Your hair was wound on a metal pipe-like affair which was then plugged into that big circular thing that hung from the ceiling. It was rather a terrifying experience, because we were attached to this electrical device and had no way of escaping.
Lucky thing for us that there was no fire - we would have been fried - in more ways than one. Well, when we were finally released from the monster, we had tight closely woven spikes of hair. We looked terrible - but that wasn't the worst part. We still had to go home to face our parents. My mother immediately cut off all the frizz, and even that was an improvement.
When Art Champion first opened his ferry service from the mainland to Harsen's Island, it opened up a whole new world of travel to McDonald's Island on the Middle Channel. Now we could ride across on the ferry and take the muddy Middle Channel Road down to the Snooks Highway. To call it a road, in those early times is quite charitable, as it was no more than an untended muddy way - especially in the spring time or when the water was high. Many times the cars would get stuck in the mud down to the axels and we would all have to get out of the car and push, meanwhile becoming mud spattered. Those people who enjoy the luxury of paved roads and the convenience of the modern 1999 automobiles will never know the thrills and frustrations of those early days. It took literally hours and hours to get anywhere, but we didn't mind because we didn't know there was any other way! Being stuck in the mud was an every trip affair, and changing tires was another diversion. Cars would always develop flat tires, some times as many as 3 or 4 during a short trip. The tires were usually mounted in wells in the fenders, so it was not difficult to get at them - it was just the exasperating frequency of the breakdowns that lead to much cursing and sweating on the part of the driver who had to either replace them or fix the hole in the tires. We had special tire-fixing kits that would allow the driver to add a patch over the hole in the tire that was causing the problem. There were no convenient gas stations to take care of the flat tires, and of course no such thing as a road service to call to come and help. Going over one of the many bridges on the island was another matter altogether. The bridges would be short, but high pitched, one lane wooden affairs. One could not see if another car was coming from the other direction, so it meant getting out of the car and having someone walk to the top of the bridge to see if there was a car approaching from the other side. Some hardy souls would forego the scouting operation, just letting out a mighty horn blast to announce that they were preparing to cross the bridge. I never heard of any accidents caused by automobiles colliding on the bridges, but then - there was very little traffic to contend with in the early days. When my father got his first Model T Ford and was learning to drive, a chicken crossed his path. He stopped and hung his head out the side of the car, hollering "Get off the road" Much to his chagrin my mother said calmly "Why don't you blow your horn?" Of course, he hadn't thought of that. Since we would rent a spot to leave our outboard motor boat on Harsens Island when we were in Detroit, we had an elaborate affair, consisting of a tarp cover secured to the side of the boat with buttons to affix, to keep the boat dry and free of water when we arrived. Since we would usually arrive during the daytime there was little problem, except time consuming work removing the tarp from the boat. However, since we would wait until the last minute of daylight to depart McDonald's Island and go to our docking spot on Harsen's Island dusk would arrive. Have you ever been on Harsen's Island amid the tall rushes at dusk? If you have, you will know that hordes of mosquitoes come out to drive you to desperation. Removing our belongings from the boat and buttoning down the tarp was a horrifying experience. We would finally flee to our cars covered by welts from mosquito bites. But we didn't learn. Next week we would stay on our Island Paradise until the last minute again, and once more encounter the mosquito menace. Ah, those were the days. And we did it all for enjoyment, week after week.
I'm not too fond of taking the doggie out for his constitutional at night. We have no street lights and the woods are usually dark as pitch. Not a sound is heard. Being the scardey=cat I am, it's great to get back in the house.
You've heard me grow poetic over the leaves and the trees and the bushes in bloom, fireflies - you name it. They all enchant me. But the unrelenting darkness of the forest at night, makes me feel a little edgy.
But this week I observed something absolutely spine-tingling to me. There was a silvery full moon that lit up the area with one shining glow. The leafless trees towered over me. there were branches and twigs on the smaller ones; however, the fat tall trees were magnificently bathed in the silvery finery. They stood like stong sentinels, holding their ground.
I looked up at them in awe, for they presented a new view of the world to me. What had been shadowy, dark and mysterious - was now silhouetted in a delicate light that formed its own long shadows.The house next door was serene and beautiful in its new coat of pale moonlight.
I had never observed this scene before. Of course, I have not lived in a forest on top of a mountain before.
When you are 3,000 ft. up and seemingly, alone in the world, the sky seems so close. Some moonless nights when the sky is a like an inky piece of black velvet, you see myriads of stars you had never seen before. So many of them;. and, so bright and so close that you feel like you can get up on your tippy-toes and touch them.
When we live in the city, the world of people and noise and movements are so much with us, that we seldom have the occasion to observe nature's beauty.
Like a child, I am seeing magnificence in the simple things that I never took the time to appreciate when I was living in a busy world. Now, in a more relaxed atmosphere, I am discovering so many of nature's gifts - and standing in amazement as I drink in the beauty.
