••• Friday, September 03, 2004

Fruits of My Labor Day Weekend
Throughout the summer, I collected snapshots of my new Northern Michigan neighborhood. I had intended to write this post weeks ago, but what better tribute to mark the end of our first summer in the new community digs?

On the drive to the cottage, we pass through this little town called Mesick. Yes, as in Me Sick. As if the name isn't weird enough, Mesick has annointed itself the Mushroom Capital of the World.

You won't find much else but mushrooming in Mesick. But in the event you got a queer eye for the fungi, you might find this place handy:

After you get yourself fixed up at the apothecary, you can stop next door, for a foamin' shot of deer snot.

Yousick yet? Metoo.

Northern Michigan by the Yard
The following shots were all taken within minutes from our cottage, along the main roads and highways.

Bottle Tree very pretty.
And the bottle blossom is neat.
But the fruit that has fallen,
Can be murder on bare feet

In the same yard as the bodacious bottle tree were two driveway posts, each wearing a bowling ball. Because the residents of the mobile home were in (therefore, not mobile), we could only get a quick shot of one ball. But as you know, in bowling, a split shot is the most difficult.

On the road to town from the cottage, we're greeted by this imaginative menagerie. They are all made from hot water heaters or propane tanks.

Is that Who you think it is?

Why, yes it is. Tank You, Jesus!

::You'd think with all those hot water heaters, they'd have at least one Mary in a Bathtub::

Okay Kim, before you start having im-morel thoughts of an autumnal voyage, this is a mushroom carved from a tree stump. I call him Well Hungus Amongus. ::No, really, it's just a mushroom.::

And what some yards lack in fungal stature, they make up for in well-capped quantity. Mmmm...pass the butter fried steak.

::No, Kim...just mushrooms. ::

Oh Deer, I almost forgot.

You can't drive a half mile around here without seeing some rendition of the white tail fakeout.

Nope, the little fluffins' aren't real. I know. Those bogus, bovinous beauties fool me every time.

And that's the end of my tail.

Without BeLaborin', I wish you all a restful holiday weekend.

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