239—the master painter working in the garage where paint spills don't matter; 240—bubbles after working hard in the garden all day; 241—three new trees planted in the back yard! 242—bubbles in a late summer sun; 243—our butterflies eclosed early in the morning; 244—one final day of splashing at Independence Lake; 245—splashing in our own pool between the rain showers.

This morning we were finally rewarded. Right after eclosing the butterfly has a body distended with fluid and wings folded tightly against the body. They then pump the fluid out of their abdomen and into the veins of their wings to spread them open. These two eclosed probably 4-5 minutes apart, although we missed Moe (on the right) emerging. This picture was taken at 8:48am.

Just four minutes later at 8:52 Curley Parsley (on the left) has significantly altered his appearance. The chrysalis is still there on the stick. Notice that it is no longer dark in color now that the black butterfly is out.

A closer look at Moe so you can see the veins running through her wings. Curly Parsley and Moe were both females, a specific that can be determined by the spot formation on their wings—big yellow spots on the male, smaller yellow spots on the female.

Here is Moe stretching out her proboscis, making sure she's ready to get nectar from the plants she finds.

Stretching and sunning. This was right before Moe took off. Curly Parsley (on the right here) wasn't that far behind time wise, but she stuck around for another 30 minutes.

This is pobably best chance we've ever had, and probably will ever have, to take such a close look at a butterfly.

And just two final shots of Curly Parsley before she took off to look for nectar plants and a mate. Good luck Curly.

Awesome.

We couldn't fit it far enough in to close the trunk, so we actually just backed up the street and around the corner into our driveway, trunk wide open, dinosaur peeking out. Then, after we'd carried it to the backyard and were softly discussing how exactly to settle it in its new home, I looked up at Calvin's window where I expected him to be soundly asleep. Instead, I saw, faintly outlined in the dark, the shape of our son peering quizically out his window at us.

"what are you doing?" I asked
"I'm looking at that sandbox there."
"At what?"
"At that turtle you have there."
"I don't see a turtle, I see a dinosaur."
"At that dinosaur there."
"What dinosaur?"
"That one behind you."
"I don't see a dinosaur."
"Behind you."
"I still don't see a dinosaur." (looking up and all around)
"No, look down. Down and behind you."
"Oh that! Yes, that is a sandbox for you."
"I didn't know that you would be bringing a sandbox tonight."
"No, it was a surprise."
"I like that sandbox."
"Good."

So now we have a dino sandbox, and it even came with a few toys.

225, Friday night at Dexter Daze; The rest of the week was spent up north on Walloon Lake where we enjoyed good weather, fun with family, time on a friend's farm, and meeting the newest member of our extended family.

So let me just say that sometimes there's good planning, more often even the best-laid plans go awry, and then, once in a blue moon, there's something far better than well thought out plans—there's good luck with a sprinkling of good timing. We left Petoskey knowing that the forecast was for showers and storms and a 90% chance of rain that afternoon, but as we neared the park in a determined drizzle, we could see blue skies behind the last of the afternoon clouds. We decided to go for it. What does a little rain matter when you're riding a train, right?

I can think of only one thing that would make a tiny, out-of-the-way attraction like Crossroads Village busy beyond belief on any given day, and that would be the Day Out With Thomas Celebration Tour, but since it visits each railroad only one weekend each year, what were the odds we'd run into that trouble? Yes, we really are one in a million. As we approached the two ticket booths we were pretty sure we'd be out of luck, but instead were informed that there were a handful of tickets for the last train of the day. Great! We only needed three, after all, and now all we had to do was come up with something to do while the rain blew past. We walked past the incredibly long line of families waiting to board the 2pm train in order to use the bathrooms, and afterwards regrouped on the suddenly deserted (and covered) platform to form a plan. Then, through the rain and the whistle of the train, came a quiet "psssst" from one of the sharply dressed train conductors; "Want to ride in the caboose?" he asked with a wide smile showing underneath his ancient-looking but appropriate handlebar mustache.

Uh, yeah. He was not bothered by the fact that our tickets were for a much later train, and he ushered us quickly down the line, handing us into that happily bright red last car, and then boarded with us. I figure the rain worked for us in two ways. First, it kept the ticket sales down so there were a few left for us, and second it sent some of the people with pre-purchased 2pm train tickets home so that we got to enjoy our 40 minute ride while the last of the rain showers blew past.

I remember Calvin's first swimming class, back when he was only 6 months old; the teacher was concerned that he was afraid of the water because he didn't crack a smile once during the first few weeks, but he wasn't afraid—he was absorbing and taking stock of the situation. It was this experience that kept coming back to mind as we sat in the little caboose for 30 minutes before seeing anything that even remotely resembled a smile, and even at the end of the ride our little thinker was only vaguely pleased in a visible sense. I hoped that our friendly conductor wouldn't be disappointed, thinking that the little boy chosen for such a coveted seat was ungrateful or uninterested, but the story of the swimming class seemed a bit much to share at the moment. In any case, Calvin thanked him for the ride as we descended once more to the Crossroads Station platform.

Again with the timing, our need for indoor entertainment had come to an end; as we had pulled up to the station at the end of our travels, the rain had stopped and the sun come out to shine through the thick air of a now warm and steamy afternoon.

Once stopped we explored the caboose a bit (something we missed out on doing at the front of the journey since we boarded last minute) and then spent a few more minutes exploring some of the retired cars near the station while we waited for the next train to board and depart so we could watch it.

There's not a whole lot more to Crossroads Village than the Huckleberry Railroad itself. Really it was like a much smaller version of Greenfield Village with much less attention given to the old buildings and their stories. I wonder if we had visited on a less cartoony weekend if maybe things would have been different.

My very favorite find of the day was the old farmhouse. It wasn't so much the farmhouse, though, as the lady and her vacuum inside. Look at the name on that vacuum, and then look at the floor she was in the process of cleaning when we walked through (with dirty feet, I'm sure).

They don't make vacuums like that anymore (in more ways than one).

The upside to the Thomas situation, though, was the activity fair. Attentions may have been drawn away from the beautiful old buildings and their lessons, but after a morning in the car an afternoon of craziness might have been just what the sane-parents fairy ordered. Bubbles, model trains, and even a little ice cream sent us back to the car well exercised, both mentally and physically, and well fed.

And would you believe, after all the good luck we'd already had, and even though I parked the car without a second thought for any more than the rain and the crowds, when we walked back to the car through a baking, sunny heat, we found it parked in the shade. Who put that tree there? Thank them kindly, please. Yes, sometimes luck far surpasses the benefits of planning.

It was also at this time that we finally learned how much Calvin really had enjoyed that train ride. "Can we come back next week? Please?"

Saturday saw us up bright and early, headed for north of the forty-five, our spirits weighted only by concern for what we may or may not have forgotten. Good thing they have a Meijer up there now. One thing we didn't leave behind? The caterpillars. By the time we left only one of them had strung himself to a branch and was preparing to go into chrysalis mode.

We arrived in time to share in the beautiful sunshine and warm water (78 degrees!) with my cousin's family before they headed back south. It's hard to believe that thirty years ago we were those little kids, our parents were the "kids" and our grandparents were the parents. 

Two kids in a hammock. I think our grandparents would have loved to see this.

Sunday dawned bright and windy. Did I say windy? I mean batten down the hatches kind of windy. The sun was warm, the water was warm, the wind was windy.

The caterpillars were happy. And just look at the color of that lake.

Wind just means having to work up a sweat before getting in the water, for whatever that's worth when you go to get out and you're wet all over.

Look at that churned up water.

Monday was sunny and windy and slightly less warm and we headed to Charlevoix for some entertainment and some smoked fish. Because you can't go north without enjoying smoked fish and smoked fish dip.

Tuesday, after breakfast in Petoskey, we spent the morning on the farm of an old friend (of Gram's) who was kind enough to invite Calvin for the morning chores. We met pigs, fed chickens and collected eggs, drove out to count cattle (who were elusive in the woods, of all places), and bottle fed a calf.

Wednesday dawned bright but chilly, so half the crowd headed to town for Pirate's Cove golf.

But it turned warm and sweet by early afternoon and we ended the day in the beautiful lake as the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky.

Thursday, after breakfast in town, we were lucky enough to meet Ada, the newest member of our extended family, who was born to Polly and Justin just the day before. I can certainly say she's a beautiful baby. I can also certainly say that Calvin was glad to be leaving her there.

Calvin seemed to greatly prefer these babies, which we passed on the way home, to the human one.

Thursday afternoon was almost as beautiful as Wednesday afternoon and we spent the time relaxing on the dock and in the water, but ended the day in town at the aptly named Sunset Park. Every year, it must be done.

 Friday morning I took my coffee out on the dock and watched the storms rolling in, by, and beyond.

With weather like that predicted all day we headed into Mackinaw City for fried fish at the Key Hole and fudge from Murdick's (what you don't know is that we'd gotten fudge in Charlevoix, too...)

And would you believe, by the time we got back to the lake the sun was shining and the storms were blowing just north of us, close enough that we could visually enjoy the line of contrast between the storming clouds just north of the lake, and the wisps of vapor sporadically obscuring the sun shining over us.

What a beautiful afternoon with which to bring up the rear of our vacation week.

And the storm that came after we were already inside for the night was like a final farewell, a reminder of the baggage waiting in Westbranch for pickup on our way back down.

We don't give in easily, though, so on our way home we made a stop at the Huckleberry Railroad for one last bit of vacation (the touristy kind), but that's for another post.

There's another 44 pictures from throughout our week at the Lake in the Walloon Lake 2010 photo album. Enjoy. We did.

At his current size and appetite we decided that replacing him on the already pared plants outside would be the end of our parsley crop for the year, and in fact a quick check of the outdoor plants revealed his two brothers or sisters on the now much-munched outdoor plants. Not willing to give up my plants or the learning opportunity waiting to be grasped, we brought all three little buggers inside and made them happy with clipped parsley (organic from the store) and sticks inside large wide mouth Ball canning jars. They could have picked better timing, though—looks like they will have to go on vacation with us next week.

Shall we name them Larry, Curly Parsley, and Moe?

The orange horns are a stinky warning to those who might bug him, but we bugged him anyway and brought him inside. The other two were far more mellow about using the horns, but this guy was feisty.

Here are two of the cats, each in a different phase; the one on the left is much bigger and greener and is in the final caterpillar stage while the one on the right will molt one more time.

Fascinating.

We'll keep you posted on their progress.

There was a lot of teamwork setting up tents.

And then we were hot and tired enough to have to go swimming.

Then more setting up—a fire and lanterns, water for dinner, food stuffs, yadda yadda. A one night dry run was probably a good idea, but I'm not sure I'd ever plan to camp for just one night again.

Mmmm...campfire food.

Scavenger hunt in the woods.

Roasting mallows for s'mores by the fire.

Playing card games with four year olds is a whole different animal.

Bedtime story by the fire. Thankfully Curious George is the only one who got sprayed by a skunk.

The biggest success of the trip? The Stanley Thermos we got for Christmas. We made coffee before leaving home on Saturday, around 11am, and poured into the preheated thermos. On Sunday at 7:30am the coffee was still hot enough to enjoy.

And yes, by the way, that is Calvin peaking out from behind a tent room divider. We had a three room tent for the night. This was new to me. Also new was the existence of electrical outlets (several of them) at each and every campsite, and the rampant use of them throughout the camp. Aside from the apparently popular trend of stringing your tent or RV with gaudy novelty lights (so, as my dad says, you can find your own site when you're stumbling in drunk at 3am), there was even a site with a flood light trained on an American flag all night. Camping. It's not what it used to be.

But we got a good night's sleep, and had just as many helpers the next day to take the site down.

Then we went GeoCaching.

And then we went into Irish Hills for a little amusement before heading home. Finding amusement in Irish Hills, however, is a little like visiting a graveyard for good eats. All the places Jon remembered from childhood visits were dead, though not gone.

The Prehistoric Forest—closed for about seven years(?) but listed as a creepy place to explore uninvited.

Stagecoach Stop has only been closed since 2008, but its heyday was back in the 1970s when US12 was still the main route between Detroit and Chicago, before the interstate. All this according to the creepy fat old bearded guy who was driving around the place in a golf cart. We think he used to own it and/or the hotel next door (which is still open). Either that or it's even creepier that he was buzzing around on that golf cart.

There is something photogenic about dead and dying 1970s attractions, though.

What? Unnecessaryquotes.com it is.

There's nothing quite like sitting on the feet of a giant lumberjack. Actually, according to creepy bearded guy this lumberjack used to be one of the Muffler Men.

And lunch at neon barbecue. Creepy bearded guy was here, too. Maybe he owns the whole US 12 strip in Irish Hills. Or maybe he wasn't even there at all—all that shows in the picture is his cart...

Camping. It's something we will definitely be doing again.