“Dear Hazel,

 This just does not do the lake justice, for it is very pretty. Had a dandy time there.  Abby” September 24 1908

 I’m not sure what Howard City looked like in 1908 when this postcard was written, but I am sure when visiting Whitefish Lake today, you would notice a big change in boating attire for women!   

 “Dear Carrie,

 Came Thursday Sept 10, was sick in bed not going to school. Make up your mind to come over. Will try to show you a good time. Tell your mother to come over to. Write soon. Leonard”  Sept 19, 1908

“Wednesday noon. Just finished lunch and feel better. All are well and having a fine time. Home probably Monday.  Claude”

 Claude and I have something in common. We both feel better after having a good lunch!

 I think the dog on this card is ready for a boat ride. Dogs have a way of doing that. If they want to go for a walk, they stand by the leash until their master gives in. Or, if they want to go for a ride, they stand by the door or the car/truck until they get their way. This dog doesn’t look like he is going anywhere until he gets his trip around the lake.

 Big Whitefish Lake is located in Pierson Township in Western Montcalm County. The size of the lake is 500 plus acres of surface waters with  reported depths up to 54 feet. The lake is located one mile south of Little Whitefish Lake. Sorry to report there is no known public access to this Michigan lake.

Howard City is one of those Michigan cities that seems to have been bypassed since the creation of 131. That’s a shame. It’s small town atmosphere gives it lots of character. 

The postcard dated June 12, 1907 simply states: “Got here ok, papa”  Papa must have reached his destination at the Golden and decided to send a message back home to his loved ones back in Grand Rapids. I guess he knew everyone would be worried about him until they knew he had arrived safely. Some things never change!

Today the Golden is known as Latitudes, a popular local restaurant. Located on the corner of Edgerton and Ensley, it anchors the main street in Howard City. This building is just one collection of charming, vintage turn of the century brick buildings. Howard City is designated as a Michigan Cool City. You may visit Howard City online,  and when you do, make sure you catch the video: Water Tower Demolition Video!

The White Pine Trail passes through Howard City, providing miles and miles of trails for year round enjoyment. One will also find a weekly farmers market, an impressive new Reynolds Township library, and close proximity to several Michigan lakes, rivers and streams.

So, the next time you are traveling on 131 near exit #118, plan to take a few minutes to check out Howard City. And, make sure you send a postcard to your family to let them know you got there ok.

Then again, maybe not. It’s possible that hidden beneath all that comicality—beneath the absurd waddle and that impossible-to-take-seriously quack—is a mind that is thinking, “Duh.” In fact, based on my personal duck experiences, I have to admit there’s solid evidence that ducks are just plain dumb. Their drollery isn’t just a cover-up to keep us fooled while they plot to take over the world.

I guess I just like to think that ducks are deep because: 1) it’s fun to say; 2) saying ducks are dumb could get me blacklisted by duck lovers; and 3) dumb as they are, ducks are nevertheless beautiful birds. And it’s that mix of beauty and goofiness that makes ducks so entertaining, and beloved by so many people.

Grand Ledge west of Lansing has one of the best duck feeding stations you’re likely to find. Off of the parking lot across from the island, a short stairway takes you down to the edge of the Grand River. A contingent of ducks has found this location to be a pretty good thing, as thoughtful humans show up regularly to feed them. The place is a veritable melting pot of duckdom, with ducks of every ethnicity and even a few geese coexisting beautifully, united by their shared appreciation for an easy handout. We could all learn something from them—that is, if they could communicate with us in relevant terms. “Quack” may be amusing, but it’s not particularly enlightening.

The island I mentioned above is an attractive place. A footbridge takes you from the parking lot across a channel of the river to the island’s east side, facing the gazebo. From there you can walk a quarter of a mile down a wide, nicely paved path to the westernmost point, where there’s a clear view upstream toward the railroad trestle that spans the two high banks east of Fitzgerald Park.

While the ducks like to convene on the flat sandbar across from it, the island itself is a favorite location for human activities. Wedding parties use it for photo shoots, shaded by stately poplars with the river drifting leisurely by in the background. Craft fairs add a splash of color and interest toward the latter part of the warm months. Walkers, fishermen, and picnickers all find the island a place to unwind and lose the fast pace of life to the unhurried current of the Grand River.

It’s a lovely place. And of course, there are the ducks. From mama mallards leading miniature flotillas of irresistibly cute ducklings, to pure, creamy white beauties, to big bruisers of indeterminate (to me, at least) species and origin, you can’t miss them. If you want to win some friends for life, or at least for fifteen minutes, just bring a few slices of bread with you. You’ll get plenty of entertainment out of the deal.

Don’t expect much more than that, though. If you’re looking for a truly meaningful exchange that rises above the duckish instinct to eat, forget it. Ducks aren’t that deep.

“Hello All,  we read your card it was all right you couldn’t go to Crystal last Sunday for we can next Sunday just as well. We will meet you there some where. Mike is cutting hay and I am going to rake this afternoon and he is going to draw. I have washed and baked bread this forenoon so you see I am working. Mabel and all” - Postmarked July 17, 1912

Sounds like Mabel had a pretty busy day and I’ll bet she made some great homemade bread!

I am curious about the picture on the front of the card. Below the picture it says “Woodbury Grove and Cottages, Crystal Mich.”   But, just what was going on here?  It looks as if everyone in the cars are dressed in their finest attire, but look at the little guy sitting on the right side of the picture. It doesn’t look like he was invited to the party!

I am not sure where Woodbury Grove and Resort is or was. Crystal Michigan is located along the southeastern shore of Crystal Lake in central Montcalm County. Crystal Lake is approximately 760 acres in size and is one of the largest natural lakes in mid-Michigan.

Postcards can be a mystery at times, after all things change after 97 years.

P.S. Let me know if you know anything about Woodbury Grove and Rest.

I do not have a clue why someone would name a lake “ No Name Lake”. Can you picture yourself talking about your sweet weekend retreat on No Name Lake? Then having to try and explain why it is called that.

I shot this photo on a lake that is a yet to be a named lake in Montcalm County.

Where they grow thickest, you can often see broad stretches of rich, open maple and beech woods carpeted with white, as if someone had strewn popcorn through the hardwoods. Of all the spring wildflowers, the great white trillium is the icon of this time in the northwoods when the forest floor comes alive with color.

For the past two weeks I had been laid up with a nasty bug. I finally reemerged from my enforced confinement, where life had been reduced to four walls and many a bowl of homemade chicken soup, to discover that spring had not waited for me. What had a short time before been just the first hints of emerging greenery—wild leeks popping up in the woods, the first Canadian anemones and a few pioneer trout lilies showing their blooms—had become a full-blown explosion of color and life.

My first tentative, post-convalescent hike told me that I was by no means up to snuff yet physically. But by my second outing earlier this week, I had improved greatly, and was in good enough shape to finally enjoy the season’s progression along the Coldwater River.

Stately sycamores grace both sides of the river along the Dolan Trail where I went walking. Their striking olive, beige, and gray mottled bark so much resembles camouflage that you’d swear nature had cloaked the trunks in RealTree. The woods along the trail are marked by large trees of every kind—huge sycamores, big maples, immense old beeches. With large branches spreading high overhead, the understory is thin, and the presiding mood is spacious, ancient, and cathedral-like, the way I have always pictured Sherwood Forest. Pileated woodpeckers nest there, and I once watched an enormous gray owl hopscotch through the treetops. On this day, as I sat by the bluff just below where the fast-flowing river forks into two channels, an otter slipped along the opposite bank and disappeared into a hole.

Virginia bluebells were at their peak, covering large patches of the woodland in an Impressionistic azure wash. Fat bumblebees moved busily among the flowers, poking their heads into the long, bell-like tubes. I’ve never been stung by a bumblebee and I hope never to acquire the experience. Judging from their size, I’m sure the bees pack a wallop. But they seem to be docile, peace-loving creatures that pay little attention to me. We’ve ranged through the same stands of bluebells together for many springs, coexisting, the bees pursuing with single-minded purpose their mission of pollinating the flowers and ensuring that in the few places where this rare Michigan wildflower grows, it spreads and prospers in profusion.

Unlike the Virginia bluebell, the great white trillium is fairly easy to find. Most Michigan residents know it by sight. With its three rich, creamy white petals and three broad leaves, Trillium grandiflorum is a flamboyant plant, commonly growing in colonies too large to overlook. Not that it grows everywhere. I don’t find it in oak woods, which tend to be a bit sterile overall. The trillium is a friend of maples, beeches, and rich, black soils, and it prefers woods edges and settings where light can filter through rather than deep, heavily shaded forest interiors.

From now until late May, this queen of the spring wildflowers holds court. In another week or two, look for some of the older flowers to start turning pink. Another species of trillium has dark red petals, but the two plants are distinctly different. There are in fact a number of trillium species native to Michigan, most being considerably rarer than the great white trillium. The toad trillium’s hallmark is its odd, mottled leaves; the painted trillium has a striking, crimson V on each of its three white petals; the diminutive snow trillium is one of the earliest of the spring wildflowers.

But the great white trillium is the belle of them all–showy,  stately, graceful, an emblem of the Michigan wildwoods in the spring.

Coming home the other day, with my eye open for a photo op, I pulled over the car over as I noticed a pair of swans on the edge of the lake. I got my camera out and began snapping a few shots. The swans seemed to be posing for me.

I shot a few more, they were agreeable. Usually the waterfowl just are not interested in letting anybody get close. I felt like they were posing for me. I just shot more and more. It was a delight.

And then it was over. The Tammarack Lake swans turned and glided away to perhaps another appointment. I turned and headed back to my car. What I didn’t realize was, another car had parked and watched the same swans and the photographer. The driver of the car said “I am not sure what I enjoyed more, watching the swans pose for you, or you taking their shots”

It’s fall and there is still time to enjoy a Michigan lake.

Much of the Little Muskegon’s riverfront is natural, it’s riverbanks lined with a variety of oak, pine, ash and elm. Michigan deer, as well as a wide range of other wildlife and waterfowl, make their home here, enjoying life in their natural habitat.  Fisherman report catches of small mouth bass, walleye and perch.

Due to the brush, low hanging limbs and the trees that have fallen into the river, as well as the seasonal water levels, canoeing is only possible in the lower third of the river.

As with much of the waterfront on Michigan’s lakes and rivers, much of the property along the river is privately owned. Please respect the rights of property owners by not trespassing.