Superior Paddle-Wheeler...

 

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 1:16:32 PM 9/26/2022 8:32:43 AM	1011

Superior Paddle-Wheeler

When I was just a little tyke,
Off to Grandma & Grandpa's we would hike,
Even though it was way up north,
We would dare to sally forth.

Pine trees line the highway in the summer sun countlessly.

Water was every where, lakes, streams, ponds.
Road-side bill boards like magic wands,
Attract tourists from the road in hunger,
"Eat now, you're not getting any younger!"

God's Country, Northern Wisconsin, The U.P.

Pulling into Grandma Varden's drive,
Everything would come alive.
Hugs and smiles all around,
Thankful for every time we found,

Our way back here.

Morning, breakfast cooking on the wood stove,
Pack us up and off we drove.
The giant indian stands downtown at 120 feet,
And Copper Falls, well they can't be beat.

Woods and water, shadows dance in summer breezes.

Walking trails under trees, wooden walkways,
We could soak this up for days.
Further north, it was time to go,
We hit the beach at Lake Superior, you know.

Endless water, white frothed waves rolling.

Smooth round stones upon the beach,
Skipping them as far as we could reach,
The time would come when Grandpa was the star,
He'd made wooden paddle boats, would they go far?

Table saws, sawdust, rubber bands.

The garage down the steepest hill,
Created memories that still thrill.
Tiny boats of hope and wood,
Fun times that were truly good.

Keith H. and I were going to race!

Waters of Superior are cold under a sixties summer sun.

Memories are not.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000

Author's Comments

When I was very, very young, we would all pile into the car and head to Ironwood, MI. My Grandparents lived in the old mining town, Stories of the old copper & iron mines caving in crept around. The wood stove in the kitchen evoked Spells crafted of Magic Grandma Cooking Smells,
And my Grandfather would head out down the hill to the garage and make little wooden paddle boats
powered with rubber bands. We would all climb the feet of the giant towering statue of ?Squantoe?
at the park in town. The following day, we would fill the cars and go off to Copper Falls, followed by Lake Superior. The waters of Superior are endless seeming, A small ocean of fresh water, and cold. Smooth stones made up the beach. My hair was so blond then as to be near white. My uncle Keith H., adopted, a year younger than I. Wading with rolled up pants in little jeans, sunshine, paddle boat races, picnics, smiles. It seems like a magical bygone Heaven now. Like a cameo faded into my mind...

Author	Date Entered/Modified	Views
Daniel A. Stafford	8/13/2000 1:16:32 PM 9/26/2022 8:32:43 AM	1011

Comments
Daniel A. Stafford			8/13/2000 1:44:08 PM
Copper Falls Park info: ************************************** Copper Falls State Park Ancient lava flows, deep gorges and spectacular waterfalls make Copper Falls one of Wisconsin's most scenic parks. Stone buildings from the 1930s Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) add a special charm. 2,676 acres. Features 55 campsites, 13 electric sites, winter camping, showers, a dumping station, backpack camping, handicap-accessible picnic area and campsites, concessions, seasonal naturalist programs, lookout tower, vistas, shoreline with marked beach area, canoeing, boating, fishing, 1.7 miles of nature trails, 7 miles of hiking trails, 7 miles of off-road bicycle trails, 13.7 miles of cross- country ski trails. Call 715-274-5123.  On SR 169, 2 miles N of the intersection of SR 169 and SR 13/77, 4 miles N of Mellen, Ashland County.
Janine Daniel	spinnys@hotmail.com	www.spinnys.com	8/21/2000 2:06:01 AM
Again you've shared your memories with me, and now I feel like I've been there too. What a wonderful childhood you had. I barely knew my grandparents. Thanks Dan...*S*

A Softened Place..

A Softened Place..

The sky is steel-grey with low-angle light,
Waves roll onto the beach from the endless line of surf,
Clouds saunter slowly past above Lake Michigan.

The beach grass is turning that golden color of the Northern Midwest,
Tawny.

Leaves are green,
Yet edged with yellow or orange-red,
Hints of splendors to come.

You may walk here today with the chill breeze that never stops,
Knowing that Winter will freeze you out in a month or two,
You pull your jacket tighter,
Reflective and visually immersed at the edge of a freshwater sea,
A timeless place where the seasons roll you,
And never the other way around.

The throngs of Summer are long-gone,
A few hardy souls wend the art of a cool lake,
Watching their breath waft up into the enchanted air,
Clutching a warm mug of coffee for dear life.

This place is bigger than you,
It's bigger than me,
Yet it's vulnerable to the endless raft of human ants,
Who are too small to see the impacts of their combined works.

You can feel that immense body of water,
From miles away you know where it is,
Just like it grinds broken bottles into soft beach glass,
Baubles for next Summer's children.

The seagulls sing their forever song,
Counterpoint to the bass of continuous waves,
Rolling, rolling, rolling,
The snare of grasses and branches rustling in time,
The slight notes of wind-whistle a finishing touch.

In the distance,
Far, far, far in the distance,
A train horn sings along,
Yet here is the domain of Nature,
Of seasons and time far older than us,
What was with us in our youth,
Hopefully will see children long after we're gone,
Poetry that is beyond writing.

In a place like this,
A softened giant timeless place,
You can find yourself an atom drifting with infinity's dream.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/03/2018

Miller Beach, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, 2010 - Photo by Daniel A. Stafford