But being in Michigan on vacation is always something that stirs old memories, so today I share with you a poem that came from inspiration in this very same place this past Easter...
Michigan Grass
KMF, 04-23-11
We called it "Michigan grass."
It was soft and cool between our toes
and even though we were only in Ohio,
we knew we'd be to Michigan soon.
We called it "Michigan grass" -
it smelled like summer
and it tasted like grandma's peanut butter-chocolaty treats
fresh off the stove.
(We could smell them all the way from the basement!)
It was the taste of sweet raspberries too,
right after being picked from the backyard bush.
(Sometimes we had to wait all summer just to get our first bite!)
It was the splash of cold water
after jumping off the makeshift wooden-red ledge
into the familiar pool.
It was trips to the park
and pretending we were in the Old West.
Family barbecues and July birthdays
were always cause for celebration.
Even a trip to Dairy Queen was an adventure.
(And sometimes it would be so hot
the ice cream would slowly trickle down our skin,
daring us to finish faster.)
We called it "Michigan grass,"
and it was perfect for sitting and star-gazing
or for catching a glimpse of the fireworks
over the tops of the trees lining Grandpa's street.
It was card games like Euchre, Crazy Eights,
and (especially) Pinochle.
Trips to the zoo were quite the tradition,
and we always enjoyed the sugary slushies
in their special plastic mugs...and the penguin exhibit.
We watched so many movies those summers -
we must have kept Blockbuster in business.
We learned to love the smell of coffee
long before we acquired a taste for it.
When in doubt, we could always make a gift
of coffee mugs to Grandma and Grandpa -
they could never have enough.
We called it "Michigan grass"
all those summers when the pullout couch
became our makeshift bed
and the basement became a favorite reading place.
We would often lose ourselves for hours
playing ping pong and pool (without the cues, of course).
It was "hop in the car"
and we were off and running,
as dad tried to squeeze in too many visits
into the few days we had left.
(But I don't think we really minded much -
Dad was just really good at keeping up with friends.)
The sand dunes were somewhat daunting,
but we always managed to make it to the top.
We visited where Grandma grew up,
and, in time, we often planted flowers on her grave.
Northern Michigan has always been
a place of peace and family.
We called it "Michigan grass,"
but it was much more than that -
it was that knowing feeling of being home.
KMF, 04-23-11
We called it "Michigan grass."
It was soft and cool between our toes
and even though we were only in Ohio,
we knew we'd be to Michigan soon.
We called it "Michigan grass" -
it smelled like summer
and it tasted like grandma's peanut butter-chocolaty treats
fresh off the stove.
(We could smell them all the way from the basement!)
It was the taste of sweet raspberries too,
right after being picked from the backyard bush.
(Sometimes we had to wait all summer just to get our first bite!)
It was the splash of cold water
after jumping off the makeshift wooden-red ledge
into the familiar pool.
It was trips to the park
and pretending we were in the Old West.
Family barbecues and July birthdays
were always cause for celebration.
Even a trip to Dairy Queen was an adventure.
(And sometimes it would be so hot
the ice cream would slowly trickle down our skin,
daring us to finish faster.)
We called it "Michigan grass,"
and it was perfect for sitting and star-gazing
or for catching a glimpse of the fireworks
over the tops of the trees lining Grandpa's street.
It was card games like Euchre, Crazy Eights,
and (especially) Pinochle.
Trips to the zoo were quite the tradition,
and we always enjoyed the sugary slushies
in their special plastic mugs...and the penguin exhibit.
We watched so many movies those summers -
we must have kept Blockbuster in business.
We learned to love the smell of coffee
long before we acquired a taste for it.
When in doubt, we could always make a gift
of coffee mugs to Grandma and Grandpa -
they could never have enough.
We called it "Michigan grass"
all those summers when the pullout couch
became our makeshift bed
and the basement became a favorite reading place.
We would often lose ourselves for hours
playing ping pong and pool (without the cues, of course).
It was "hop in the car"
and we were off and running,
as dad tried to squeeze in too many visits
into the few days we had left.
(But I don't think we really minded much -
Dad was just really good at keeping up with friends.)
The sand dunes were somewhat daunting,
but we always managed to make it to the top.
We visited where Grandma grew up,
and, in time, we often planted flowers on her grave.
Northern Michigan has always been
a place of peace and family.
We called it "Michigan grass,"
but it was much more than that -
it was that knowing feeling of being home.
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