Book Review: Ellie’s Pursuit of the Mighty Fitz by Mckenzie Lee Williams and illustrated by Alayna Maria

Posted on December 3, 2025 by youngv2015

Published in hard cover, Williams’s book is durable and easy to wipe clean, making it perfect for young hands.

What is this book about?

It’s the day before spring break at Great Lakes Grade School. All of Ellie’s fifth grade classmates have travel plans. Her best friend, Mike, is going to London with his family to see Big Ben. Ellie worries her friends will return after spring break with wonderful objects and stories for their last fifth-grade show-and-tell, and she will have nothing to share because she isn’t going anywhere. She hopes her father will surprise her with a last-minute trip. But, Ellie’s only surprise is that Grandma Gigi is spending the week because her father has to go on a business trip.

While riding home after school with her father, Ellie hears Gordon Lightfoot’s song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” for the first time. After listening to the song, she has lots of questions about the Fitzgerald. Later she talks to Grandma Gigi about the Fitz and her recently deceased Grandpa Loren, who also sailed the Great Lakes, and even knew some of the sailors from the Fitzgerald. Ellie and her grandma decide to drive from Superior, Wisconsin, to the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum on Whitefish Point in Michigan. They want to see the bronze bell from the Fitzgerald and to learn more about the ship and its sinking. Perhaps Ellie will have something special to share at her last show-and-tell as a fifth grader.

What makes this book special?

Delightfully written by Mckenzie Lee Williams and beautifully illustrated by Alayna Maria, this chapter book will appeal to children ages eight to twelve years old. I really enjoyed this story, and I read it in one evening. Ellie, the main character and narrator, captured my heart. She is enthusiastic, adventurous, curious, and kind. She loves learning and writing in her journal, and if you’re a writer, you’ve got to love a journal-toting character. Told with tenderness and gentle humor, this chapter book explores themes of disappointment, grief, remembrance, and resilience. Young readers will enjoy taking a road trip with Ellie and Grandma Gigi. Along the way they will learn about the Edmund Fitzgerald, the Great Lakes, and the enduring power of love. Now, I want to visit the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum on Whitefish Point.

A special note about the author, Mckenzie Lee Williams . . .

Mckenzie Lee Williams died in a motorcycle accident in June 2024. She was twenty-three years old, a recent college graduate, and a writer. She was inspired to write Ellie’s Pursuit of the Mighty Fitzgerald when she worked at a bookstore. Customers would inquire about books regarding the Fitz for children, but there was little available. So, Williams decided to write a chapter book. After her death, her mother discovered Williams’s draft of Ellie’s Pursuit. With love and dedication, Williams’s family and friends edited and illustrated her manuscript. Like the bronze bell from the Fitzgerald, Williams’s book is a symbol of spirit, dedication, and love.

I never met Williams but she and I both had work published in the 2024 Nemadji Review at the University of Wisconsin-Superior. I was saddened when I heard about her death. Ellie’s Pursuit of the Mighty Fitzgerald is a lasting tribute to Williams and her talents as a writer.

[Ellie’s Pursuit of the Might Fitz, Mckenzie’s Mommy Publishing, October 2025, is available through Amazon and the National Museum of the Great Lakes.]

Bees, Roses, A Water Fountain, Ice Cream, and Rocks on the Beach

Posted on August 23, 2025 by youngv2015

A happy pollinator on the first flowers we encountered

Two years ago I took my four grandkids to a rose garden. We smelled the roses, walked along Lake Superior, ate ice cream, and tossed rocks in the water. Then we did it again last year. So, of course, we had to do it again this year. It’s a tradition now. When my grandkids are grown up and old, they will say to each other, “Remember when Nana took us to the rose garden every summer, and we’d get ice cream then throw rocks in the lake?” Just like I recall my nana taking us to George Webb, Sherman Park, and Capital Drive, and letting us use her galvanized steel wash tubs as swimming pools on hot days.

Can you find the pollinator in the rose?

We arrived at the rose garden, which also has other flowers. We spotted bees slurping nectar. My oldest grandchild took photos of the bees and roses. I took photos of the bees and roses. My other three grandkids watched the bees and smelled the roses. We all love the flowers and bees. I like to refer to bees as pollinators, like it’s a royal title and the bees belong to a noble class. Watching pollinators feed on flowers gives me hope for the world. If you want to help create hope, plant something pollinators like, and make sure it’s pesticide free.

As we smelled the roses, we took care to look for bees before sniffing. We didn’t want our noses stung, or egads, to inhale a bee. We visited the rose garden a couple of weeks later than we normally do, so we missed the peak bloom. But the roses that had waited for us didn’t disappoint.

My grandkids love the functioning water fountain, a focal point in the garden. I handed out pennies for wishes. They splashed their hands in the water. One of them found a small, round, flat stone painted with the message Make a Wish. I think more than one of them would have liked to climb into the fountain. Kids and water just go together. The summer I was twelve, my siblings and I spent three weeks with our grandma Olive. Every day we begged her to take us to Bluegill Lake so we could swim. The fountain in the rose garden was originally located in a different part of the city, where it supplied fresh water for horses in the days before automobiles. Everything changes.

After spending time with the roses, we headed down the Lakewalk, and enjoyed the views of Lake Superior. Later, on our way back, my youngest grandchild stopped at several of the park benches and assessed the views, commenting on each one. Perhaps, he is a budding travel writer.

On our walk from the gardens to the ice cream shop, we always stop at a large stone stage. Flanked with two stout turrets, it has a castle vibe. My grandkids ran across the stage and through the hidden passageways behind it, then suddenly appeared once again. Their laughter and excited shouts to one another rang through the air. I thought about Shakespeare’s famous line, “All the world’s a stage,” followed by his musings about the “seven ages” of life from infancy to old age. I stood on the stage with my grandkids, yet apart from them, separated by several “ages” of life.

The cooing sounds of pigeons who nest in the nooks of a stone wall along the railroad tracks captured the attention of my grandkids. One grandchild was impressed by the range of their colors and the variety of their markings. And the other three started a cooing conversation with the pigeons. I have to say, the cooing sounds my grandkids made were impressive, but finally I said, “What if the pigeons hear your coos as a battle cry and attack?” Yes, you got it, I was thinking about Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. I saw the movie once, years ago, and I’m still miffed Hitchcock killed off Suzanne Pleshette’s character in the movie! She was one of my favorite actors.

If you asked my grandkids what they liked best about our adventure, they would probably say the ice cream. It’s what I would have said when I was their age. The picnic tables at the ice cream shop were new and so was the chocolate mint ice cream used to make my malt. For thirty years I’ve been ordering chocolate mint malts, made with the same minty ice cream filled with thin, flat pieces of dark chocolate. This year the ice cream was a little too minty and the thin, flat pieces of chocolate were replaced by mini chocolate chips. It was good, but not as good as it used to be. Next year I’m going to order a different flavored malt. Maybe I will find a new favorite. The clerk at the shop said they could no longer get the same kind of chocolate mint ice cream. All things change. But don’t ask me to say change is good when it comes to my ice cream. Some wasps hung out with us while we ate our treats. None of us panicked, but neither did we share our ice cream with them.

Our next stop was the lakeshore filled with rocks waiting for my grandkids to toss them back into the water. Now that they are older, they try to skip the rocks across the water instead of just throwing them. I planned to let them stay ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but they were having so much fun with each other. I watched them toss rocks, look for agates and beach glass, and play with driftwood, and suddenly I could see my siblings and myself on the sandy shores of Bluegill Lake seining for minnows, building sand castles, and floating on inner tubes in the water. I marveled at how long ago that was and yet how quickly the years had passed — in the snap of a finger. We stayed for more than a half hour. This was the best part of my day. Because while my grandkids on the beach had no idea how quickly time would slip by, I did.

Hanging with the Grandkids, Slurping Fizzy Sodas, and Saving a Balloon

Posted on June 29, 2025 by youngv2015

On the first day of my grandkids’ summer break, I took them to a local coffee shop. I ordered them fancy fizzy soda concoctions and let them each pick out a piece of bakery. I ordered myself a small latte and no bakery. The time with my grandkids — priceless. The cost of the trip to the coffeehouse — more than five happy meals at McDonald’s. I had sticker shock when the clerk gave me the total, but I acted like I spent that much in coffee shops all the time.

I handed the clerk my credit card and refused to think about the cost. Afterall, the soda concoctions were works of performance art served in 16-ounce glasses, mixed with fun flavors like watermelon, pineapple, cherry, coconut, and strawberry and topped with whipped foam. I almost wished I had ordered a fancy fizzy soda. As the clerk handed the first soda to one of my grandkids, she said, “Stir the soda very gently with the straw a few times. If you stir it too fast, it will overflow the glass. Then drink a little bit of the soda, and mix it some more.”

We were five minutes into sipping, noshing, and gabbing when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a slightly built, older man walk into the shop. Dressed from head to toe in dark colors, he carried a small black grip, which he placed on a chair. He picked up a large dinner-plate-sized planter filled with succulents and moved it to a table where a younger man sat eating a bowl of food. This didn’t bother the younger man, who wore headphones and watched his computer screen.

The older man removed his black jacket and slipped on a whitecoat, the type doctors wear. I stopped paying attention to him because the grandkids and I were tasting each other’s sodas. Thankfully, they didn’t ask to try my latte; although, I would have been a good sport about it.

A short while later, the man in the white coat appeared at our table. The name Dr. Twist was stitched above his left pocket. In his hand he held a purple dog made of balloons. He gave the balloon dog to my six-year-old grandson. He twisted up more balloons, making a green crown with an alien’s face, a yellow crown with a funny face, and a brown monkey, which he gave to my other three grandkids. He made a balloon flower for me, which I took home and put in a crystal vase. Besides being good with balloons, Dr. Twist had a great table-side manner, cracking deadpan jokes and making us laugh.

I don’t think Dr. Twist was a planned event at the coffee shop. I got the impression the balloon doctor was a free spirit, showing up on a whim, twisting up fun, then leaving smiles and laughter in his wake.

After we finished our treats, we bussed our table, and balloons in hand, we thanked Dr. Twist again.

It was a windy, blustery Winnie-the-Pooh day, so as we left the coffee shop, I warned the grandkids, “Hang on tight to your balloons or the wind will take them.” We’d made it to the van and were almost inside — when a sudden gust of wind snatched the yellow crown balloon with the funny face from my eight-year-old grandson’s hand.

As one, and without a spoken plan, we secured the rest of the balloons in the van and gave chase. The untethered balloon swirled up and down alongside the building in the wind. A couple of times we came close to catching it, but at the last second, the wind, in a game of keep away, would lift it high into the air. Finally, the wind carried it into the busy street.

Released from the updrafts surrounding the building, the balloon dropped to the pavement. We watched as a semi-truck approached, sure the balloon would burst beneath its large tires. Miraculously, the yellow crown with the funny face survived. The wind gently ushered it onto a quiet side street, where it came to rest against a curb.

When the balloon stopped moving, I ran across the busy street, hoping to grab it. Don’t worry, I exercised plenty of caution. I understood it would not be a good look to be hit by a vehicle while rescuing a balloon. I thought about the online news articles reporting on a dim-witted nana who was run over by a car while trying to catch her grandson’s balloon. I imagined being trolled by online commentators, who would all come to the same consensus: “Yeah, that lady was stupid” and “Darwin’s theory in action.”

So, I waited for traffic to clear, then I ran across the street. In that moment I suffered a pang of vanity, and I wondered just how strange I looked while dashing madly through the crosswalk. But I assured myself that anyone who may have taken notice of me had surely seen stranger things than someone’s nana chasing a balloon. Then, I wondered if anyone was taking a video of me to post on TikTok, perhaps titling it “How Not to Cross the Street.”

The balloon had waited for me on the side street, and as I reached for it, I hoped the wind wouldn’t snatch it away again. But the wind had finished messing with me. I grabbed the yellow crown, and when it was safe, I strode back across the street, all while singing in my head, My superpower is chasing balloons.

I handed the balloon back to my grandson. I thought he’d smile or tell me I was amazing. But he just looked at me — like he was trying to figure something out. I didn’t ask him what he was thinking. But I was thinking.

We all got back into the van.

“Hey,” I asked my grandkids, “Nana didn’t look funny running across the street after a balloon, did she?”

From the third-row seat came the voice of clarity. It was my oldest grandkid who reassured me, “Actually, Nana, you looked really funny.”

We all laughed.

I was glad I hadn’t let the cost of the sodas, and latte, and baked goods upset me. Because in the end, the amount of money I spent on the one-time visit to the coffeehouse wasn’t going to impact my financial security. There are plenty of disasters in life that could possibly do that, and I try not to dwell on those either.

Instead we have a happy memory, which will remain long after the air seeps out of the balloons.

Foxes & Fireflies, My Hometown Bookstore, Is The Perfect Place to Shop for Valentine’s Day!

Posted on February 3, 2025 by youngv2015

Always some refreshments available Foxes & Fireflies

Bookstores are great because they have books (the best), but many bookstores have a lot of other cool stuff. Bookmarks, jewelry, socks, toys, gadgets, stationery, journals, games, bookmarks, ornaments, pins, coffee mugs, jigsaw puzzles, stickers, candles, stuffed animals, chocolates.

So, if you’re looking for a perfect Valentine’s gift for someone special, and you’re looking for something unique, try a bookstore, even if your someone special isn’t a reader.

If your Valentine is a reader and you know what book they want – good deal, buy a book. If your Valentine is a reader and you don’t know what book they want – buy a gift certificate. If you want to step up your Valentine’s Day game, add another gift to the book or the gift certificate. Scroll for ideas!

Does your Valentine love sticky notes? Do they love to use them to mark their favorite passages in books? Do they still enjoy a trip down the yellow brick road? This palm-sized book of Wizard of Oz sticky notes is sure to please both good and bad witches!

Little Valentines would love one of these 3-D printed creatures. Their moving parts make them good fidget toys.

A small fox figure guarding lip balm, facial masks, and earrings

An earnest fox figure, seems to say, “Just keep reading. No need to get up and cook or do the dishes.” As your browse for books, look for the squirrels, foxes, and chipmunks. They are for sale. They make wonderful reading buddies.

These sweet dioramas can be found throughout the store. Does your Valentine like to build models? Kits are available for purchase.

The Foxes & Fireflies mascot is the perfect teddy fox for young Valentines who like to snuggle with a friend during story time.

Throughout the store, magnets are on display for sale. Find the words that capture your Valentine’s personality.

Stickers! Think of these like the Valentines we gave each other in elementary school. People like to put these on travel mugs and computers. I like to put mine on the inside of my writing journals.

Postcards from your Valentine’s favorite fictional worlds.

Stationery, journals, calendars, and a few Valentine cards. I found the perfect Valentine’s Day card for my husband!

Playing cards and coffee cups. Note, the coffee mug features Shakespearean insults. Should you have a lover’s spat — you can trade first-rate barbs by the bard.

Reading journals formatted for your Valentine reader to record the books they read

Plush and soft, great accessories to go with a book from the children’s section

Pencil cases filled with stickers, sticky notes, tabs, a bookmark, a pen, and a highlighter

And books! I read Before the Coffee Gets Gold, and loved it. These cozy Japanese novels take readers away to quiet worlds filled with a bit of magical realism. I’ve got my eye on We’ll Prescribe You a Cat.

Trick or Treat Books — Helping to Raise the Next Generation of Readers

Posted on October 31, 2024 by youngv2015

Look carefully. Grandchild #3 is nestled between the fish.

My grandkids didn’t have school today, and they don’t have school tomorrow, so they came to my house. I was hoping for nice weather because I planned to take them on a hike to Lost Falls in Cornucopia, Wisconsin, today, and to Cascade Falls near Grand Marais, Minnesota, tomorrow. But rain, cold, and winds up to 30 mph said differently.

Instead we went to the mall. Our first stop was the bookstore, where I bought each grandkid two books for Halloween. Then we hiked to the indoor playground. While they played, I took out my book — A Samuel Pepys Mystery: The Brampton Witch Murders by Ellis Blackwood — and I began to read.

About fifteen minutes later, my first grandchild came for her book — Dipper’s & Mabel’s Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun! — and she began to read.

A few minutes after that, my third grandchild came for his book — The Wild Robot by Peter Brown — and he began to read.

Not to be left out, my second grandchild came for his book — Demon Slayer Kimetsu No Yaiba #1 by Koyoharu Gotouge — and he began to read.

My fourth grandchild ignored the trend and kept playing on an interactive screen. He enjoys its puzzles, games, and coloring app. He read his book — Creepy Carrots! by Aaron Reynolds — on the way home.

I didn’t give my grandkids candy for Halloween. They’ll get a stash of it tonight when they trick or treat in the rain and cold and wind. I gave them candy for the imagination.

As a writer, I love that they love books.

Below is a slideshow of our books.

Yes! Foxes and Fireflies Booksellers Opens in Superior, Wisconsin

Posted on September 7, 2024 by youngv2015

Maria Lockwood greets customers with a big smile and the enthusiasm of one book lover to another.

MY TOWN HAS A NEW BOOKSTORE! And I’m shouting with joy. Maria Lockwood opened Foxes and Fireflies Booksellers on August 31. For the time being, her bookstore will be open on Saturdays and Sundays from 10:00 to 5:00, and some occasional evenings. During the week Maria works as a journalist for the Superior Telegram. That’s a lot of dedication to the printed word.

Since visiting the store this morning, I’ve been walking around in a state of happiness. The last bookstore in Superior closed down seventeen years ago. It was a well-loved, successful bookstore, but the owners wanted to retire. And when they locked their doors for the last time, they left behind many bereft bibliophiles.

Flooded with light and surrounded by marble, large windows, and wood trim, Foxes and Fireflies invites readers to come in and browse.

But now we have a new bookstore. Foxes and Fireflies is currently located in the old post office building in Superior. It’s in a business incubator space — a place where Lockwood’s bookstore can grow and gain a clientele before she relocates to another, larger space.

On the other side of this cozy space, kids and young adults will find a selection of YA and children’s books.

Lockwood’s bookstore has several places to sit, where a reader can peruse the first pages of a book, trying on a story to see if it will be a good fit. There are kid-friendly spaces with puzzles, some games, and children’s books. I have two grandchildren with birthdays in September and October. They love books, and I plan to take them to the bookstore. They will find the store as magical as I do.

Lockwood has created a warm, inviting space that makes me feel at home while I hang out with books waiting to become my new friends. While most of the books are new, customers can also find some gently loved used books for sale. Besides books, she stocks some beautiful journals, coffee cups, and dish towels, among some other fun objects like stickers.

Today I bought two journals, one decorated with sea creatures and the other with owls; a dish towel scrawled with Shakespearean insults; and the novel North Woods by Daniel Mason.

I’m thankful to have a bookstore in my town. In a couple of years, one of the two bridges connecting Superior and Duluth will close down while the bridge is being rebuilt. It’s hard to know how that will impact travel to Duluth, but I’m guessing it will be a challenge. There are three independent bookstores and one big-box bookstore in Duluth, but when that bridge closes down, driving to them won’t be convenient.

I would rather buy books than clothes or jewelry or dinners out. I would rather read than watch TV. At the end of every day, I ask myself, “Shall I watch something on Netflix or BritBox or shall I read?” Ninety-six percent of the time I choose to read and let the stories play in my head.

When I travel, I love to visit small independent bookstores. Perhaps I’ve been to a bookstore in your town or will visit one in the future. If you come through my town on a weekend, visit Foxes and Fireflies at 1401 Tower Avenue, Superior, Wisconsin. There is plenty of parking on the side street or behind the building.

Get thee to an indie bookstore, or as Shakespeare said, “Fie on thee, jolt-head.” (I’m going to have fun with my new dish towel.)

Something Published: From the Duluth Rose Garden to the PortLand Malt Shoppe

Posted on July 30, 2024 by youngv2015

My article “From the Duluth Rose Garden to the PortLand Malt Shoppe” appeared today in the August 2024 edition of Northern Wilds. The article details a fun adventure I had with my four grandchildren when we visited the Duluth Rose Garden in Minnesota. We loved all the roses and the flowers. But we also enjoyed our trek down the Lakewalk to the PortLand Malt Shoppe where we slurped delicious ice cream.

Other than this blog, I mostly write short stories and essays, but I had so much fun writing this article. I also took the photos and wrote the captions. One of the highlights of writing this article was interviewing Carol, the co-president of the Lake Superior Rose Society, who was more than generous with her time. She is so knowledgeable about the Rose Garden and its history, plus she knows so much about roses and their history. I learned more from her than I could possibly include in my article, but her willingness to share her knowledge gave me the confidence to write about roses, which I knew so little about.

Our community is lucky to have a publication like Northern Wilds. The articles are well written and cover a variety of topics, such as outdoor activities, artist profiles, nature, ecology, tourist venues, community celebrations, and local restaurants.

My youngest grandson strikes a pose along the Lakewalk. Check out his knees! That is how mine always looked when I was his age.

Playing Chess with My Grandson

Posted on June 16, 2024 by youngv2015

I taught my ten-year-old grandson Michael to play chess about six months ago. We sat at my kitchen table and played lots of games. I won them all. It never crossed my mind to let him win. I enjoyed feeling like a Grandmaster chess player, even if I was beating a ten-year-old child who’d never played before. Chess is a tough game. If he was going to learn to play, he needed to pay attention to the whole board and think beyond his current move, something I knew he would eventually do better than I ever could.

But a Grandmaster I’m not. I liked chess as a child, but I stopped playing when I was about thirteen. I was no good at the game because I could never think beyond a couple of moves. I never learned the higher-level strategies. I never thought or talked about the board in terms of numbers and letters. When I played against my sister or neighborhood friends, I won occasionally, but as I got older, my game didn’t mature, and I lost a lot of games. For me chess was no longer fun. I hung up my pieces and moved on.

So, when I sat at the kitchen table six months ago, beating my grandson in game after game, I enjoyed it because I knew it wouldn’t last. He is good at puzzles and games. He can read diagrams and build three-dimensional objects from many types of building sets. He can skip the directions and design his own creations. He watches YouTube videos to learn how to do things.

My grandson is eleven now. He has been playing chess with friends and watching friends play chess. He has learned some strategies. He thinks about his moves before he makes them. He thinks two or three moves ahead. I’ve started playing chess with him again.

We play in the front living room. He sets the chess board up on the coffee table and pulls up the ottoman. I sit opposite him on the couch.

Words between us are few. Chess is a quiet game. We watch each other contemplate moves. We think about our next moves. We work on seeing the whole board. There is no room for small talk. Sometimes one of my younger grandsons will come up to us and start talking. I put my hand up and say, “Michael and I are playing chess, and it takes all of our concentration. We can’t talk and think about the game at the same time.” They stop mid-sentence and back away, but in five minutes or less, one of them will forget and try to talk to us again.

My chess-playing grandson and I are evenly matched, for now. Our games last around twenty minutes. It’s a coin toss as to who will win. I give the game my all, but I don’t care if I win or lose because the victories are never lopsided. But I suspect in another year or two, my grandson will have upped his game again. My only strategy against him might be that I have no strategy, thereby creating chaos on the board.

My favorite part of playing chess with my grandson is the quiet camaraderie we share as we stare at the pieces and the board, each of us trying our best to win. And with four grandkids in the house, it gives me the perfect excuse to be left in peace and quiet for twenty minutes in the afternoon. I tell the other grandkids that barring an emergency, I’m not to be disturbed. And if they try, I hold up my hand and repeat, “Michael and I are playing chess.”

Memories don’t always have to be filled with words.

A Morning at Sax-Zim Bog in with the Grandkids

Posted on March 19, 2024 by youngv2015

The John C. Gale Boardwalk, part of the Taiga Boardwalk built in autumn 2023

Last week I took my four grandkids to the Sax-Zim Bog in Toivola, Minnesota, appropriately located on Owl Avenue. (It’s a good place to see northern owls.) The drive from my house was one hour and four minutes. (Thank you, GPS.) The grandkids brought library books and their adventure bags, which are filled with postcards, maps, compasses, binoculars, auto bingo, bird books, and other adventuresome stuff. We weren’t one minute from my house when the three youngest grandkids took up an intense game of auto bingo, searching for cows, horses, ambulances, no parking signs, and billboards. However, by the time we were far enough out of the city to see cows and horses, the bingo game had blown over.

Of course, there is always one grandkid who wants to know: How far? How many more miles? Are we halfway there yet? Have you ever been here before?

We arrived at the bog’s parking lot about eleven o’clock. It was 52 degrees and sunny, with a slight breeze — perfect weather for walking through an old bog. But we were glad we’d worn sweatshirts over our T-shirts.

The Sax-Zim Welcome Center was closed, but we met a volunteer coming out of the building who looked like part of an illustration from a Jan Brett book. He kindly answered my questions about the trails because we wanted to walk on the new Taiga Boardwalk built last autumn.

Shortly after we started down the trail, a loud clattering commenced. I wondered, “What kind of bird is that?” Then I discovered two chattering squirrels chasing each other up and down tree trunks and across fallen logs at breakneck speeds like a pair of NASCAR racers. “Those are fox squirrels,” Michael, 10, said. “My grandma has them at her house.” His other grandparents live in rural central Minnesota. But, according to a post on the Friends of Sax-Zim Bog Facebook page, we most likely saw Red Squirrels. They are highly territorial, and one of them probably invaded the other’s space, which would explain their loud scolding sounds and serious chasing behavior. Whether fox squirrels or red squirrels, they were fun to watch.

As we walked through the bog’s forest, I thought about The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, a book I recently finished reading. I learned a lot about trees and forests. True forests are diverse and interconnected in an amazing cycle of life and death, filled with competitiveness and cooperation, and home to a large variety of insects, animals, and other plants. Forests grown for harvesting are nothing of the sort.

A tree near the end of its standing life

Walking along the trails of the bog, we saw different species of trees. New trees, only inches tall, grew under the branches of old trees. Unless the old tree dies, most, or perhaps all, of the baby trees we saw won’t make it to adulthood. Some standing trees looked nearly dead, waiting for their turn to fall to the forest floor. Tree trunks that had already fallen lay on the ground in different stages of decay, providing habitat for other creatures.

Steeped in tranquility, the breathless silence of the bog held no traffic or city noise. No planes droned overhead. Occasionally, the peaceful quiet was accompanied by the chirps and calls of birds and squirrels, which like the silence, belonged to the forest.

The Taiga Boardwalk loop is short, but it’s not meant for serious hiking. It’s a trail where visitors take their time, stopping to look for birds and animals who are masters at blending into the forest. When we finished the Taiga trail, we weren’t ready to leave the bog, so we walked a different, smaller loop. We still didn’t wanted to leave, so we walked the Taiga again.

On our second trip around the Taiga trail, Evan, 7, got down on his hands and knees, peered through the slats on the boardwalk, and said, “I see why they built this. There is water down there.” I’d told them the boardwalk was built to help keep people’s feet dry.

Charlie points at the common redpoll on the cover of his trail map. He said he just saw one, and he might have. Before we left the bog, another volunteer told us a redpoll had been spotted that morning.

We didn’t see any owls, but in addition to the red (or fox) squirrels, we saw chickadees, and Clara,12, spotted a black-back woodpecker.

After we finished walking the trails, my youngest grandson Charlie, 5, gave me a hug. “Do you know why I gave you a hug?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I gave you a hug because you brought me to this bog.” I think Charlie felt what I felt: a pervasive peacefulness. As I walked through the bog, I felt a sense of increasing serenity. In The Hidden Life of Trees, the author mentions studies that show people have reduced stress levels after walking through old-growth forests. I have no data to prove that is what happened to me, but I certainly felt calmer than when I’d arrived.

Holding our trail maps, Sax-Zim Bog calendars, and warm memories, we got in the van and buckled up. I was about to start the engine when Clara pointed out her window and said, “There’s a butterfly in the parking lot.”

The butterfly, a Compton Tortoiseshell, sunning itself before the pickup entered the lot.

Having recently finished reading Bicycling with Butterflies by Sara Dykman, I had to get out of the van and have a look. As I was snapping pictures of the butterfly, which wasn’t moving much, a red pickup truck pulled into the lot. The only open space for the truck to park happened to be where the butterfly was resting, and the driver wouldn’t have been able to see it. Squashed butterfly, I thought. I walked toward it, and it fluttered a few feet, but in the wrong direction. Coming from another angle, I walked toward it again, and it flew another few feet, but this time it landed out of harm’s way.

The red truck parked without crushing the butterfly. Perhaps it wouldn’t have needed me to save it. Maybe it wouldn’t have been run over, and it would have flown away from the truck instead of into it. But I’m glad I didn’t leave the butterfly’s destiny to fate.

The grandkids and I left the bog and headed back to the city. As I drove down the county roads, they flipped through their calendars, enjoying pictures of the beautiful wildlife who make their homes, for at least part of the year, at the Sax-Zim Bog.

Ziva Is Ready for Buffalo Bills vs Kansas City Chiefs

Posted on January 21, 2024 by youngv2015

Ziva is ready for the big game between the Buffalo Bills and the Kansas City Chiefs. She believes she has the best seat in the house. It’s a bed sized for an Irish Wolfhound or a Great Dane. She has room for a companion on this bed, but she would object to another dog sharing it. However, she would share her oversized cushion with my seven-year-old grandson, who snuggles with her on the couch. He has already tried out the bed and declared it “very cozy!”

but I’m pulling for the Bills, who have never won a Super Bowl.

And no, Ziva doesn’t think it’s necessary to watch the action. She will just listen to Tony Romo and Jim Nantz call the game. She doesn’t care about the temperature and wind conditions on the field. She doesn’t care who wins. But she likes that Taylor Swift is there cheering on her beau. And by the way, so does my eighty-three-year-old mother, who went to see Swift’s Eras Tour in the theater and loved it. After all, “Girls just wanna have fun, that’s all they really want.”

And a cushion fit for a pop star.

Writing Near the Lake

Tag Archives: Grandkids