FATHER'S DAY RAMBLINGS

Photo by S. Auberle


A different sort of Father's Day--I am alone, no family about and though I miss them, still it's a good day for appreciation and gratitude.  So this morning I arose quite early--5:00 a.m. to the tune of an unknown feathered whistler out my door, and after a quick bite to eat, drove to my favorite secret place where I sat on the crunchy beach made of thousands and thousands of tiny, crushed zebra mussel shells, and watched the ferries criss-crossing Death's Door.  Two men came by, also solitary and we exchanged greetings.  I then drove to a favorite coffee shop, where I had the most delectable rhubarb streusel muffin made by Char, and several cups of fine coffee while Joe, the very large white resident poodle nudged me every now and then.  Sadly, Joe (as in "cuppa Joe") recently lost his long-time companion Art (as in fine art).  Char and her husband, whose name I can't recall--but it might be Dewey, once ran a wonderful gallery and coffee shop here--thus the names "Art & Joe" which happen to be on their license plates as well.  UnfortunateIy the art part is now closed, but the fine bakery and coffee shop remain.  If you are in northern Door, do stop in--on the outskirts of Gill's Rock. I then, (shamelessly--I'm a writer, what can I say?) eavesdropped on the conversation at the next table, where a woman sat, adoring her frail father.  I could feel exactly her thoughts as they ate cherry Danish and laughed.  She, wondering how many more days do I get to be with him?  He, appreciating just the moment--which seems to be a gift that comes with age, though, in spite of my years I've not yet managed to get the knack of.  At any rate, this being Father's Day, I began counting my blessings--starting with the two fathers left in my life--son and son-in-law--beautiful men who have blessed me with five strong and wonderful grandsons who may, one day, be fathers as well (and two beautiful, talented granddaughters).  I am so proud of  both of you--who truly know and live the meaning of "father."  I never really knew my own father, but I do know he loved me and that, in the end, is what counts, isn't it?  And there was a fine man who came along when I was grown, who became a good and kind stepfather to me.  So I am a lucky woman.  I finished the scrumptious muffin, and drove down the road to my favorite meditation garden/Asian gallery--Linden's Gallery--again, if you are in this part of the Door, do not miss this exquisite place.   I spent a long time among the plants, trying to catch a photo of bumblebees and hummingbirds in a patch of lavender, never having success, but in the end discovered on a flower photo a tiny garden spider invisible to my photographing eye, till I printed it out and there she was!  I'm sure there's a lesson there--something about unexpected gifts, and the like.  I went into the gallery then, and could not resist buying an unexpected gift for me-- a beautiful Tibetan "summer bracelet."  Browsing then among the serene Buddhas and Kuan Yins, feeling such peace I wanted to curl up on an ancient rug and nap, I thought it best to return home where I fell asleep in the sun, listening to the same friendly bird who had awakened me at dawn…