South Haven Simplicity

At the moment a cardinal sends whew-whit-whit-whit-whit-whit-whit-whit signals from treetops above my screened porch. Another bird a few houses away responds to every signal: cheer-chew-cheer. Their conversation has lasted most of the evening ~ too long for Twitter posts but probably okay for a nice thread on Beakbook.

Between the porch and Lake Michigan shadows of tall maples and elms approach, turning Kelly green carpet to forest green. The sun glistens in top branches, then rests between lower boughs. A motorboat streaks silently across the gray-blue band of water while a vapor trail in a cloudless sky plunges like a star. Occasional hotrods on the road behind the cottage and cigar boats on the lake in front rip ruthlessly through the calm as though tearing a rag. Little do they realize the peace they’re ripping is rare royal silk. But mostly all is quiet, save the birds social networking above. Simple.

Another South Haven simplicity I appreciate is the sunset tradition. People walk down the pier to watch the sun set over the lighthouse. Last night a crowd clustered at the base of South Haven’s red lighthouse saw an unspectacular sunset, then dispersed. We stayed though, knowing the sun below the horizon wasn’t yet finished painting the clouds above. In one of these photos, I purposely included someone’s abandoned ice cream cup, because that is another part of the tradition I enjoy ~ walking down the pier with a cup of Sherman’s ice cream. Make mine Chocomania please.