I’ve been in Michigan this week; not in person but while writing my sequel memoir. In 2014, I took my Solo Journey to the northernmost point of the Lower Peninsula–Mackinac Island. My trip was in July during the busy summer season. How I loved being away from the heat and humidity of my home in central North Carolina. The ferry over to that island that doesn’t permit cars, was filled with happy vacationers including a bridal party. I had my bike to ride around that island that was in Lake Huron. The atmosphere was festive and I felt like I was part of that group–even though I was traveling alone.

The crowded Main Street of the island reminded me of Disney World with all its colorful store fronts and shop windows filled with island wear and souvenirs. Bike rental stands were abundant for those wanting to ride the 8-mile course around the island. I was glad I’d brought my own bike with the familiar comfort of a well-worn cushioned seat and gear settings that seldom changed. The weather was glorious–sunny with a gentle breeze. The further you rode from the Main Street there were fewer walkers and places to stop and take in the views of the waters of Lake Huron. Along the path, people had made stacks of rocks or cairns, altars of thanksgiving along the journey. I chose a dark grayish-brown rock by the shore, said my prayer of thanks, and added it to a stack that had a wildflower on the top.

When I returned to the town center, I browsed an art gallery. There were all types of paintings of Mackinac Island–some with bright summer flowers in baskets on Main Street, one showing a horse-drawn carriage of a bridal couple, another of the bike path with hues of blue of the Lake Huron waters. But the one that grabbed my attention was a snow-covered island at Christmas. It showed drifts of snow and reflected colors of Christmas lights in the houses and shops. How different from our mild NC winters with few snows in December.

I wondered what life would be like for the 500 full-time residents of the island. Would there be days in winter when the ferry couldn’t run? How quiet it would be without all the fanfare of tourists. I didn’t know that 80% of Mackinac Island is considered a State Park–and is free of charge and open year round. In winter the average temperature is between 10 and 25 degrees Fahrenheit with significant snowfalls. If I rode my bike there in winter, I’d need fat-tires or could get around by snowmobile or cross-country skis. I’d never been a winter sport person but could see why it would be amazing to be in a white wonderland and relax in the serene beauty.

I remembered that painting of the Christmas on the island and wished I’d bought a print when I was there that July. I searched on the internet for Mackinac art and found those dreamy images that drew me in. Eventually, I’d find a spot for them in my house to hang during our mild winters to imagine that faraway place.

It occurred to me that I only partially knew Mackinac Island like other places I’d gone to on my summer journeys. How much would someone know about my area of central North Carolina if they only came in summer? Many would think they didn’t want to come back because the heat, and mostly, the humidity, can be so oppressive.

But if you came in fall, when the leaves have changed to reveal their deepest colors, or if you came in spring, with the jasmine fragrance in the air and the wisteria’s soft lavender blooms cascade, you would have a different view. If you’d rather play tennis than snow ski– then you might prefer winter in the Old North State. To visit here in summer would only give you a glimpse of the full nature of this place.

And now, I think that all of life is like that; we only know a little bit about the full nature of anything. We see a person in the same setting doing the same thing and we think we know them. But then when we see them in another setting, doing a different thing, we’re surprised.

Last night I went to Loafer’s in Raleigh for my Country Dance. The lady at the desk who takes the money is someone I’ve seen for the past few years. Last night, she was wearing a Mackinac Island sweatshirt. I was startled by the coincidence of writing about my island experience this week and then seeing her in Mackinac wear. We had a nice conversation about her trip to the island and how she’d passed on the opportunity to move to northern Michigan.

“I couldn’t stand the cold,” she said.

How nice to share that conversation and hear more of her backstory. Now I knew more of her life beyond her work at Loafer’s. People and places have so many dimensions. Life is rich as we discover areas that before were unknown to us.

Best to you in whatever discoveries you’re making during these winter days.

Connie