11/18 AEDM–Making Applesauce
This morning the frost on the coal piles at the Shiras Steam Plant looked like snow. Could the frost really be that thick?
“People ask where do you live. I bet it’s beautiful,” they say.
I Live in South Marquette up the hill from Lake Superior. I have an almost romantic view if you hold up your right hand, squint and block out the power plant.
When students realize I walked to school in order to sub-teach they ask, “Where do you live?
Less than 10 minutes away.
They ask, “In the rich area?”
This was about 2 weeks ago and we were having some class discussion on the lack of sidewalks in this neighborhood. How walking in the dark before school is dangerous and how people are in such a hurry with cars they don’t even bother to look for skateboarders, walkers, and people on bikes.
But we do value our bikes in Marquette.
And I’m glad for the paths I walked on this morning as I hoofed to Michigan Works and a training recertification.
But I arrive and find out I was sent to a training that happens next week and I am out 8 hours of pay for today. So I make lemonade, or applesauce, it is fall. I sit my butt in a chair, wait for my boss to pick-up her phone and start looking for that next job.
I think me like unsweetened applesauce, chucky, with cinnamon and that apple orchard taste of the cider mills in northern Oakland County. I am thinking Yates. I am thinking hayrides. I am thinking of crisp walks and the crunch of leaves. But this is the Upper Peninsula and here we have no cider mills, just corn mazes and it’s no wonder I look for work so often.
I’ve renewed my commitment to walking and reducing my carbon footprint. It’s a commitment that fuels my art in such green ways. It is awesome to be blooming when the leaves get crunchy. Juxtapositioned, I am.
Pockets empty and light –abundance can fill me up—I’m ready.
Apples still hang from every tree even though the limbs are bare. Orbs. Rotting. Shrinking. Waiting for the bear on his journey to winter. We all have our journeys and the trip isn’t cold if you jog the path. I am speeding toward my next stop. I am sure with all this walking and running I will arrive breathless and with rose-apple cheeks.