Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. Keep an eye on what flies by.
Showing posts with label waterlilies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label waterlilies. Show all posts
October 21, 2012
September 25, 2012
June 19, 2012
Memory, Confirmed
Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. I wrote earlier about my memories of the waterlilies at Lac du Flambeau. Today, I stumbled across this photo.
April 26, 2012
April 24, 2012
Go ahead and fish; I'll knit.
I did not accompany my Parents on their vacation during the first summer after I was born. I was too small to travel, and I suspect my Parents wanted to get away from their daily routine.
I did join them the following two years on month-long vacations to Canada and to Michigan's Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. But I have little memory of those trips. The latter vacation sets off some glimmers of familiarity because my Dad bought a pink, satin tiara for me there as a souvenir. I also remember the Sleeping Bear Dunes rental cottage. It was small, and its exterior had been painted in a peculiar, mint-green shade.
The first vacation about which I have clear memories is the trip we made to Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin. I was disappointed that there wasn't a "real" beach on the lake. Our cottage stood on a small bluff. To reach the water, we had to climb down steep stairs and then walk along a narrow dock. The lake bottom was muddy and unpleasant. Every time I stepped out of the water, leeches covered my toes. The blood sent me into a panic. But our cottage sat near a lodge owned by a lovely, older couple. They had a Springer Spaniel, and they permitted me to play with the dog. The lake had beautiful waterlilies. When we took a ride in our rental dinghy, my Mom allowed me to clip the flowers from the water and put them in my hair. I also took my first airplane ride during that vacation; my Parents treated us to a sightseeing flight over the lake and surrounding forests.
Lac du Flambeau also is the place where I first learned to fish.
Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. I have caught a "pan fish." Do you like my striped trousers?
Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. Mom knits on the dock.
I did join them the following two years on month-long vacations to Canada and to Michigan's Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. But I have little memory of those trips. The latter vacation sets off some glimmers of familiarity because my Dad bought a pink, satin tiara for me there as a souvenir. I also remember the Sleeping Bear Dunes rental cottage. It was small, and its exterior had been painted in a peculiar, mint-green shade.
The first vacation about which I have clear memories is the trip we made to Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin. I was disappointed that there wasn't a "real" beach on the lake. Our cottage stood on a small bluff. To reach the water, we had to climb down steep stairs and then walk along a narrow dock. The lake bottom was muddy and unpleasant. Every time I stepped out of the water, leeches covered my toes. The blood sent me into a panic. But our cottage sat near a lodge owned by a lovely, older couple. They had a Springer Spaniel, and they permitted me to play with the dog. The lake had beautiful waterlilies. When we took a ride in our rental dinghy, my Mom allowed me to clip the flowers from the water and put them in my hair. I also took my first airplane ride during that vacation; my Parents treated us to a sightseeing flight over the lake and surrounding forests.
Lac du Flambeau also is the place where I first learned to fish.
Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. I have caught a "pan fish." Do you like my striped trousers?
* * * * *
Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. Mom knits on the dock.
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