In the autumn, my thoughts always tend toward England. Perhaps it is because I have read too many novels set in the UK, or because the weather in rural areas seems to be perpetually made of falling leaves, mud and rain. In any case, when the world around me turns orangey and the temperature starts to dip (even a little), I find myself in Britain, if only in spirit.
Growing up a proud Michigander, I was under the impression that all the lakes worth visiting were in my home state. If not only for the beauty, majesty and bragging rights that come with being the “Great Lakes State” but for the sheer number of bodies of water found here. Minnesota, “land of a thousand lakes”? We scoff at you. Michigan is home to over 11,000! No matter where in the state you are standing, you are never more than six miles from one of these refreshing beauties. Can that be topped? Michigan is surely the epicenter of all things freshwater and deserves every lake-related accolade.
Have you ever had the experience of returning to a place you had been before, to find it utterly different than you remembered?
On a recent trip to Northern Italy, we planned a stay in the ancient city of Bergamo. It is everything a northern medieval city should be: walled, with twisting, turning, nonsensical streets that are too narrow for a car (even the tiny, European variety) to navigate. In a city like this one, we were determined to enjoy every charm available. We booked a room in a renovated hotel that was originally built in the 1500s, overlooking the main piazza and famous bell tower of the city. A fairytale kind of place.
Our first day in Hawaii was, admittedly, a bust. A total and complete, embarrassing, hide-your-face-in-shame bust. It was supposed to rain, you see – not just on that first day, but the entire time we were on Maui. The forecast was bleak, filled with rain clouds and 80-100 percent chance of precipitation on day after day of our very expensive, much-anticipated vacation.
