We’re heading up to our place in the U.P. The U.P. where it’s tranquil and lovely with mosquitoes at night that can carry you away and ticks that gnaw on you.

I’ve never quite figured out why we go north to this spot on Lake Michigan. It’s certainly not because of the accommodations. It’s just an old 1960’s vintage trailer. It’s not because of the beach, which has been non-existent the past couple of years due to low water levels. It’s not because of the wonderful fresh air smells because the trailer is old and musty. But nevertheless it is captivating. The view from our deck out to the water is lovely. The quiet is profound. We often go a week with no one around so it’s totally silent except for the wave and gull noises and the music that we make.

We have a swarm of humming birds that come out when we bring out the simple syrup and keep us entertained.

This should be raspberry season up there. We’ll crash through thickets to grab a few tiny berries but feel richly rewarded when we have enough for a dessert or addition to pancakes.

We look for wild flowers. Our nearest up-north neighbor, Helen, is an expert and presented us with a book where she’d carefully marked those we could expect to find. We try to be prepared by scouting out all those in the vicinity, and like successful pupils, we recite our discoveries when we see her.

The tempo of life up north is different. We don’t wear a watch, we get up whenever we feel like it, we eat when hungry. It’s a lazy life.

We could do the same thing at home. We could set on our deck and watch the water because at home we live on a lake. We would be more comfortable and this weekend cooler (it’s supposed to be in the mid-90’s), but we’re on our way north. And as the familiar landmarks indicate that we’re getting closer, we’re just a tad more relaxed.