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!
