June 28, 2015
I spent a short 24 hours, 4 hours north, in northern Michigan.
Northern MIchigan is rugged in winter, but when winter finally recedes, the quaint villages and lovely beaches are popular summer havens.
Nestled among a grove of mature white birch, this cottage on the shore of Lake Charlevoix has been passed down from generation to generation in my husband’s family.
I’m no poet, but this is such a lovely spot, a poem came out of nowhere.
I guess since I bravely shared that with you all, I am now, forevermore, a poet.
There’s nothing like blogging for immediate gratification.
We spent the wee morning hours watching my son and stepdaughter run a marathon in the village of Charlevoix.
So proud of them.
And grateful to get up to this spectacular sunrise.
The lovely Charlevoix is decorated with petunia-lined streets and pansy-filled window boxes.
It is home to a group of architecturally unique homes known as mushroom houses.
Though modernized homes, their hobbit-like appearance seems other-worldly.
Near the marina sits a Charlevoix hot spot. . .
a lively bouncing fountain. . .
which draws giggly children. . .
like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.
If you ever get the chance, northern Michigan is a great place to visit.
Sorry, no peacocks on the lake, so I give you this. Thanks for visiting.