Contrary to the charming tall tale, Paul Bunyan’s footsteps did not hollow out the Great Lakes. The glaciers of the last Ice Age are responsible for the Lakes’s creation. Huge advancing glaciers acted like bulldozers and scooped out the lake beds; retreating, melting glaciers flooded the depressions.

All winter long, we have been watching ice shelves build up along the shore of Lake Michigan and icebergs float around according to the whims of the wind. But last Wednesday morning was starkly different; absolutely nothing was moving as far as we could see in every direction. We felt as if we had gone to bed in Wisconsin and gotten up in the Antarctic.

What our eyes told us about the totally frozen state of our immense Lake was confirmed later in a news report. The Great Lakes are 91 per cent frozen, a record breaker. Forecasters expect the number to reach 98 per cent in a day or two. We are living in an eerily quiet world. The ever present sound of the waves has been silenced by the ice.

We noted another previously unseen phenomenon. Some of the ice in the Lake was bright turquoise, a color of ice we only had seen previously in the Alaskan glaciers.

Every living thing around here…..people, animals and even the plants….seems to be in a supercharged state of waiting for the first chink in winter’s icy armor. We are all ready, even though the thaw might require some ark building.

Garrison Keillor describes our situation perfectly. “We don’t do hobby winters up here,” he recently quipped.

“I don’t think we’re going to see many bright colors outside for about three months,” I remarked to my art students after they returned from winter break. We were already deeply into winter with gray skies, dirty snowbanks and the total lack of the color green.

“So we will be looking at art from the Caribbean Islands and Africa for our inspiration,” I continued. “If we can’t have bright colors and flowers outside, we will create our own inside.” Our subject matter revolved around vividly painted Caribbean buses, Spiderman Anancy stories from both Africa and the islands, colorful market days and African patterns and animals.

I had my younger students try balancing a basket of fake oranges, bananas and a toy chicken on their heads to get the feel of bringing home the groceries Caribbean style. As they were attempting this feat, the school’s young principal walked through the classroom door.  We invited her to give it a try. She made it across the entire room with total grace and the full basket on her head.

To celebrate Youth Art Month and the fact that flowers are blooming somewhere on the planet, we present this virtual gallery of our art. Happy viewing! Click here for a video version.

I do not like extremely windy days. The exhilaration and excitement of a windy day when everything is in motion provides joy to many people. All I experience is a distinct feeling of unease.

The pioneers in the Plains states had wind problems as well. Living in sod houses in a flat, treeless landscape with temperature extremes and recurring, relentless winds, some settlers were driven to the point of insanity.

Windy days also serve as a reminder of the power of nature. Exhilarating winds are capable of turning into tornadoes, hurricanes and dust storms. I will never be found at a hurricane party.

Loving science, I have tried to develop a more positive attitude toward wind. It is nature’s gardener, bringing down old and diseased trees and pruning limbs. Wind is also a fabulous sculptor carving rocks and creating magnificent sand dunes. Without the wind, one of my favorite places, Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan, would not exist.

Wind fills sails, waves flags, dries clothes, pollinates plants, pumps water and makes waves. Wind energy is clean, renewable and plentiful.

The winds have been howling all winter and March will soon arrive like a lion. Personally, I am looking forward to it going out like a lamb. I am a hopeless lover of peace and quiet.

Image Credit: signal.federatedmedia.net/thursday-signal-which-way-is-the-wind-blowing-yes/

Eating out while traveling in America is no picnic. The chances of finding grease saturated food are about 100 per cent and of finding food with taste and nutrition about zero. Note that I don’t consider limp, brown tinged lettuce suffocated in styrofoam boxes as “healthy food”.

It’s sad that history’s lessons have to be relearned. Fred Harvey had the traveler’s food thing all figured out. He came to America from England in 1850, got a job with an American railroad, loved the job but hated the low quality food that was the rail traveler’s standard fare. From 1870 to 1968 the Harvey House Restaurants provided good meals, gracious service and ambience for the ordinary railroad traveler. His waitresses, known as the Harvey Girls, were legendary. For a nostalgic trip, check out the 1946 film, The Harvey Girls, starring Judy Garland.

Howard Johnson revolutionized food service for the motoring public. Starting in 1925 with a drug store and soda fountain in Quincey, Massachusetts, he believed his customers should have more than the three standard ice cream flavors, vanilla, chocolate and strawberry.  He devised 28 flavors and doubled the butterfat content. Soon he was franchising restaurants along highways and toll plazas all over the nation. A bright orange roof and a “Simple Simon meet a Pieman” logo made HoJos instantly recognizable.

Howard Johnson’s restaurants always retained hints of New England on their menus. All you could eat fried clams were a featured item. They were also my Aunt Vi’s favorite restaurant meal and my husband and I have spent many happy  hours watching her enjoy towering stacks of them.

American travelers no longer have time for sit down dining. Ironically, my most hated current roadside plaza is a former Howard  Johnson’s over the I-94 toll road going to Chicago. The plaza has a huge banner for Geico Insurance covering its windows. Does this imply that lizards are one of the menu items?  Inside the smells of stale grease and bathroom disinfectant are overpowering. The “food” is dished out from a bevy of fast food stands. Ambience is minus ten.

This formula is repeated at toll plazas, highway junctions and many airports all over America. It is not a recipe for travelers’ happiness.

We recently had a run-in with physics. Unfortunately, I’ve never studied physics: when I went to college, that subject was not deemed necessary for art majors. My husband did study physics but always found it to be his most challenging subject.

Our lack of a bathtub got the whole situation rolling. When we designed our house, we left out a tub. Both of us take showers every morning and concluded a bathtub was not a justifiable expense.

Being bathtub-less, staying at a hotel with a tub is a treat and a room with a jacuzzi is the ultimate joy. The last time this happened, we began filling the giant jacuzzi tub immediately after we checked in.

“Do you think they might have given us some bubble bath?” I wondered. A search turned up no bubble bath, but I did find a wee bottle of body wash. I handed it to my husband, he dumped it in and we both got in. Bliss!

One minute later I said, “I think I know what a lemon meringue pie feels like.” We were enveloped by peaks of frothy white bubbles. Another minute later and the bubbles had risen one foot over the rim of the tub. Thirty seconds more and my husband resembled Santa, his beard covered with foaming bubbles. I came to my senses and turned off the jets.

Between laughter and a mouth full of bubbles, I managed to sputter, “We’ve just created our own episode of I Love Lucy.”

This incident was not recorded with photos. Use your imagination. If you need a picture, here is one of Julia and Paul Child’s annual Valentine greetings. We know how they did that.