At least once each winter I try to get over to Lake Michigan to see what the season’s weather has done to the shoreline.  Yesterday was the day.  And am I glad I wore my coldest winter garb: the wind chill at the shore was probably about zero!

Michigan touches on four of the five great lakes (excepting Lake Ontario), so nearly everyone who lives in the state will refer to a visit to the coastline as going to the “big lake”—which lake is determined by the one you live closest too.  Our “big lake” is Lake Michigan, the only one of the five to lie entirely within the US.  Because both of the state’s peninsulas are surrounded by the Great Lakes, Michigan’s coastline length is surpassed only by Alaska’s with 3,117 miles of watery shores.  Now if you added to that total the shorelines of all our 11,000 inland lakes, you’d probably double that or more.

It is said that everyone in the state is no more than 6 miles from an inland lake or 85 miles from a Great Lake.  We are about 35 miles from Lake Michigan.  One of the favorite nearby beach towns is Grand Haven, where the Grand River reaches its mouth, the river that gave Grand Rapids its name—though the rapids are long gone (Some kayaking associations are now lobbying to have artificial rapids made to add to our tourism attractions).  The lighthouses on the Grand Haven pier are some of the most picturesque in the state, and are a favorite destination for photographers in all seasons.

Because Michigan is my native state, I, like so many others here, seldom stop to think how blessed we are with our access to fresh water: one fifth of the world’s supply is retained in the Great Lakes.  The only larger source of fresh water is the polar icecaps.

And polar ice cap is a lot like what I witnessed yesterday.  Because of our colder than average winter, the lake is frozen almost to the horizon where sun glints were giving us hints of distant wave action.  The surf was so far out that it was beyond hearing.  During other warmer winters, with waves close to shore, the light house on the end of the pier is sometimes totally covered with ice.  This year visitors can carefully pick their way to the very end—very, very carefully!  I was glad to have my ice grippers with me.  Unfortunately this pier is known for numerous drownings—mostly involving those who “dare” the waves when they are breaking over the top.

The beach near the pier is a popular state park, enjoyed by thousands of campers in the summer and fall.  In the winter the mostly abandoned beach mixes its sand with snow to form artful patterns in contrasting brown and white.  On my way back to the parking area I took a little side track that afforded me a scene right off the palette of Andrew Wyeth, and though my fingers were getting stiff by that time, I had to try to capture it with my camera.

So I leave you with this photo as a memorial to that great painter who died only ten days ago (January 17).  He didn’t seem to credit his Creator much with the subtle beauty he was able to capture, but his art was nonetheless both a reflection of God’s gift of creativity and a celebration of the wonder of creation.

See you outdoors!

Dean

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