The Journey

As I was not thereto see the young fox  emerge from its den beneath the neighborhood bench,witness the inquisitive eyes confronting the camera,watch its black boots boundacross the sloping dune,the white tip of its tail disappearamong the first...

Photo is of Ludington’s harbor, where the first lines of this poem were written. Celebrating decades of difference ​He says our sailboat is like a cottage on the water.I am drawn to the unknown that beckons from beyond.He taught me to feel the wind on my...

Sunrise, Racine Yacht Club, ​the beginning of my Lake Michigan sailing adventures 43 years ago ​​On April 24th, I will be speaking about a lake I have loved since childhood. In preparation, I reread my book, Uncharted Waters: Romance, Adventure and Advocacy on...

For the first time in four years, I was asked to speak about Lake Michigan. I do not believe in coincidences. I immediately said yes.  COVID, family, age-related health issues, a deep resolve to make access to nature easier for the mushrooming senior population, and a...

I am told ​"Yoopers" is a common name for those living in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, above the Mackinac Bridge. "Trolls" are those who live south, below the bridge. MaryDear Trolls, We are the five benches that look south across Lake Michigan and the Straits of...

In January, I posted a story about finding shade for one of Mother and my favorite benches. Situated on the Heinz Walkway overlooking Lake Macatawa, the west-facing bench was the only bench protected from the afternoon sun. We called it “Cottonwood Corner,” a place of...

It is thought she died of post-release mortality, her 13-foot long, 1500-pound body traumatized by what happened after the hook was firmly embedded in her jaw.  I suspect the great white would have preferred to die a natural death; not to have been dumped at water’s...

Abruptly, the asphalt ends,the tires dust up dirt and stonesending the white bug of a rental carbumping along a one-lane trackthreading through plywood shacksthat remind him of Deliverance.Ahead, the path is swallowed by a stream. No place to turn around. Google maps...

By Mary McKSchmidt It was a whimsical thought,the kind that driftslike a low-hanging cloudover a marginal seastill reelingfrom last night’s storm;the kind thatdemands attention--like the lingering wavescurling, crashing, flatteningthe powdery white sandalongside the...

​Photographed at the Gulf Islands National Seashore By  Mary McKSchmidt When she said she wanted to hike the planet, he saidafter an hour all trees lookthe same; to which she said the wildflowers, butterfliesand birds feed my spirit; to which he...

​not as farnot as fastnot as many daysbut still out there lookinglisteninghoping I remember ​by Mary McKSchmidt

By Mary McKSchmidt Like the colorful ribbon of a balloonpartially buried in the sand,or the aluminum edging of a beer cantossed in the soft of a season’s first snow,the flash of purple on a park benchcauses me to break stride, turn back,pick up the unfamiliar card...