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
