The Journey
Welcome to The Journey, a space where Mary McKSchmidt shares her transition from business executive to advocate, photographer, poet, and storyteller. Here, she invites you to walk alongside her as she explores life in the Great Lakes region, its beauty and fragility, and the bonds that connect us all.
Aging Bones
Jogging is no longer the morning ritualthat defined me for five decades. These daysI walk, an exercise of necessity, not desire. Many miles. Long hours. Day after day.But as I plod alongside the Betsie River, the slow stride allows me to see the fuzzy white whiskers...
Home
Will you stay with me beneath the red oak revered by ancients as a mystical link between earthand heaven, its leaves woven into crowns of kings? Will you stay with me beneath the red oak, listen to squirrels’ claws clattering up bark, leapingacross limbs in...
That Year
That year God came to earth disguised as a sixty-four-pound golden retriever who inched her body next to mine nights I sat on the floor, knees pressed to chest, head...
Gift of Sight
May these eyes be tuned to the shadesof the rainbow washing across skies at dawnlike those of the hummingbird discerning colors in search of nectar. May they be as sensitive to traces of light and movement as the eyesof the barn owl in the forest, as keen as the...
Nature’s Dune Gardens
“Rose.” It was barely a whisper. More like a gentle breeze stirring the spirea on a summer afternoon. The nearby caregiver looked up, surprised. Tears edged the corners of her eyes as she watched the older woman timidly touch the rose’s velvety petal. It was the...
Aha Moment
Four of us gathered in the sweltering heat at the shaded picnic table alongside the Day Use Trail at Ottawa Sands County Park in July. The meeting was prompted by comments from a book club discussion of Mother’s and my book, Miracle Within Small...
Observing Royalty
At first, I thought it a monarchand held my breath so it might landand feel safe on the Queen’s lace, unlike the fields laced with pesticidesit must cross as it journeys each winter to the fir forests of Mexico. But the black line of distinctionacross...
Playful
If Calvin can have Hobbes, why shouldn’t Mother and I create an imaginary world, assigning names and personalitiesto the assortment of stuffed animalsperched on her bed eavesdropping on our daily chair chat conversations? They were our buddies, our kids,our family,...
It Was Hot
a long dash skipper a place of nourishment ninebark’s offering It was hot. And still I walked. Looking for butterflies. Smelling the sweet fragrances of summer. Listening to birdsong. Exercising—for walking is now my preferred form of exercise. JB McCombs, co-leader...
Interconnected
Like how the Red Admiral leans into the creamy white flowersof the ninebark, its tube-like proboscisprobing deep into the blossomto sip the sweetness, like howthe butterfly’s spindly legscan’t help but brush against the clusters of stamen emanating from...
Another Set of Eyes
The quest to provide shaded benches in public spaces for the people of Michigan is not easy.And yet, after walking with Mother the last eleven years of her life, presenting to thirteen audiences throughout west Michigan, meeting with book clubs, and hearing from...
Life and Death of Cottonwood Corner
Mother and I discovered the bench while on an adventure to the Heinz Walkway in 2020. Shaded by seven “immense cottonwood trees” alongside Lake Macatawa, the bench became one of our favorite destinations. Mother wrote a poem about it titled “Peace and Tranquility.” We...