Song for the Island . . .

Out 'round the Island on warm afternoons

Old men go fishing with black line and spoons

And if they catch nothin' they never complain

I wish I were with them again.

As boys in their boats call to girls on the shore

Teasin' the ones that they dearly adore

And into the evening the courting begins

I wish I were with them again.

CHORUS:

Can you imagine a piece of the universe

More fit for queens or for kings?

I'll give you ten of your cities

For Drummond Island and the pleasure it brings.

Out on the Island on soft summer nights

Bonfires blaze to the children's delight

They dance round the flames singin' songs with their friends

I wish I were with them again - - -

And over the ashes the stories are told

Of witches and werewolves and old Island gold

Stars over Whitney Bay sparkle and spin

I wish I were with them again.

CHORUS

Out on the Island the people are kind

They treat you like fam'ly and help you unwind

And if you come broken they'll see that you mend

I wish I were with them again - - -

Now I'll conclude with a wish you go well

Sweet be your dreams and your happiness swell

I'll leave you here for my journey begins

I'm going to be with them again.

I'm going to be with them again,

.

Adapted by Candis Collick from "Song for the Mira," by Allister MacGillivray

Breathe . . .

Breathe deeply. Enjoy every nuance of this new season we deserve.

Spring is in its infancy, my friends. Time to roust and look for a place where the sun shines on your face. Work yourself out of that indentation on the couch that's been deepening since November.

The time for moaning about five months of weary weather is finished. Cheer now the seven glorious months ahead!

The blooms of spring that speak to the coming warmth of summer. We are sure to get another visit or two of weather deemed distasteful, but the persistence of this past Michigan winter will most assuredly give way to a refreshing new season.

We have been beaten by the clouds, the sleet, the downright miserable weather. The fruits of our labor? The glory of spring!

No more internet Sudoku or Scrabble; log off of Facebook and Farmville. You can leave those virtual worlds behind until next winter. Time to enjoy friends you can reach out and touch. Time for real people. Real gardens.

Getting through the isolation of winter is no small task for some of us. A daffodil breaking through the wood chips in my yard parallels what spring means for many Michiganders. The rusty color of the wood chips makes me smile. The flower has made it through to Spring's doorstep.

Television gives way to bike rides.

As inviting as the fireplace has been, it pales in comparison to the fire pit out back that will warm us for the next seven months.

Boy, does a s'more sound good! Soon I will be making them with my grandchildren 'round a bonfire on Drummond. They'll eat. We'll laugh. And the days will get longer.

Green grass. Fresh smells. Wide smiles.

Sometimes I think I make too much of the change of seasons. But there never really is too much.

It is time to breathe the deep breath of Spring!

Smile, breathe and go slowly.

~Thich Nhat Hanh