Pure Michigan

by - 12:05 PM

Hello? Hi. I can hear birds.
It's a revelation. Real, live, actual birds that fly and sing and poop on everything you love. Birds that swoop low and rise tauntingly high and scare the shiz out of my dog.

I'm parked at a desk nestled in a nearly forgotten corner of a cottage that technically gets lots of use, but is practically a decoration for the yard that gets even more. Anyway, the window is open and a pleasant breeze is coming in sweet. And there are bird. Caw-caw-freaking-caw-caw-caw.

Mother of God, do birds even live in Lansing? Quite frankly, I'm not sure I've heard that sound since Big Bird tried to yodel on Sesame Street circa 1994. (Which, by the way, never actually happened. I made that up for effect.)

Birds. Up north. Ice cream and s'mores. A surprise visit made by my favorite lady. A giant lake filled with ice cold water. Puppies. And birds. Everywhere, birds.

How does vacation week go by so fast? I mean, really. Where does it go? Sometimes I am sure that time actually speeds up. It cruises lightning fast until Monday morning, when we're back to work. Then it calls for a time out. A literal time out. Stop the clocks! Let's rest at 9:01 a.m for a few hours. Gotta catch my breath.

Am I right?
I hope so, because I've sincerely stooped to the level of speaking on behalf of time, so.....at least I'm exercising my personification skills. And vacation might make me a twinge cray-cray.

I should stop verbalizing now. I'm freakin' people out. Namely, myself.

Speaking crazy, remember those birds?

Lhasa Apso

Lhasa Apso

Little dog forgot he's little. And that he can't fly. Or climb trees. It was a tough life lesson for Jack Spaniel.


On Wednesday, my favorite lady hopped in her VW and came up for a few days.
We hit the beach. My beach. "This is holy ground," I explained. I'm getting married here.
Right here? Right here.


I always go into vacations with big plans. Not plans like, I'm going to hang glide and water-ski and climb dunes. I go with plans like, I'm going to finish that short story I've been working on and book that hotel for my wedding and make a firm decision on what I want to do for the rest of my life.

It's weird how it's stuff completely unrelated to either variety of goals that make my vacations memorable.

Hello! A hundred-bazillion dead little fish.


It's been a very Pure Michigan week. A very Pure Frankfort, Michigan week, if you asked me, and by definition (per the Jennifer ten Haaf-Merriam-Webster dictionary) that means perfect.

And now, in conclusion, a summary. I'm a self-described writer and I like to clean things up a bit. Tie the knot at the end, if you will. Hence (hence!) a photo summary.

Frankfort, Michigan

If you follow me on instagram, you've already seen this tiny photos. If not, you can find me here (or at jenntenh)

Happy Friday!

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