I'm from Michigan. I've never not been from Michigan. I'll never be not from Michigan. Regardless of where I am living, every time I step back on that fertile soil and feel the dampness in the air, walk through the so-thick-you'll-get-lost woods or touch a cool river or lake, I become even more from Michigan. So, let's be clear that while many places in this world hold my heart, Michigan holds my spirit and forever will.
In July, I teamed up with Midwest Living magazine and Pure Michigan to tell the tale of a kayaking adventure that I shared with my mom. You can read the article here. What it doesn't tell you is that it was my mom's first time on a kayak. I didn't know this. She and my father own kayaks and live within five miles from a number of lakes and rivers in Washtenaw County. As we set off for our SEVEN mile trip, she let me know it was her first time in a kayak. I was a bit sketched - the lake is, after all, the size of West Virginia and has sank many a fine, seaworthy craft. (For readers in Mexico, Lake Huron covers more surface area than the state of Michoacán). Nevertheless, we did it. And I'm so proud of her.
There is very little that I love more than kayaking the lakes and rivers of the beautiful, blessed state of Michigan. I miss it always. The good thing is, Michigan misses me too. I'm always greeted with open arms and that means the world to me.
Here's a shot of a very tame Lake Huron and Turnip Rock - we very much lucked out on the weather for our trip.
