Time Lapse

I have a secret to share with you.  There is a place, an Island, where time slows down to a quiet hush and is only measured by the four beat count of horses' hooves and the lull of lapping waves.  It is enchanted.

I first came to know this place when I was a small girl, about seven or eight years old I would say.  And  it is as perfect to me now as it was back then.  The wonderful aroma of boiling hot caramels and decadent fudge waft through the narrow streets.  Carriages of all varieties roll along the main street and turn the corner that leads to the Grand Hotel.  

Hundreds and hundreds of bicycles of every kind zip through the alleys: moving swift and effortlessly.   Tandems, cruisers, three speeds, tricycles, and mountain bikes race: armed with smiling faces and work-a-day refugees.  And if the hustle and bustle of the Island's main street proves too hurried for you, there is a way around it: literally.  Take your bike, your horse or simply trek on foot and follow the path that hugs the eight mile shoreline.  You will eventually land where you first began, but will have experienced a true lapse of time in between.  

Along the steep incline of the Isle's perimeter, stretch an impressive row of towering Victorians.  Like a footprint forever frozen on the lunar surface, these regal residences capture the essence of their place in time.  And from the fortress that overlooks the distant shores, the shocking burst of a canon erupts the morning stillness. And trumpets sound. The haunting tune echoes throughout the hull of our vessel: it is our signal to welcome the day.  

Somewhere in between the sunrise and sunset, without so much of a hint or a warning, you have been reborn.  You'll know when this shift has occurred because just after it happens, you will naturally follow the scent of freshly cooled fudge and before you even know what is happening, you realize that you have already eaten a half of a pound. 

Each time I come back to this place, I am reborn.  Something shifts.  And little by little I am brought back to the core of my being.   I am just... happy.

If you simply cannot wait for a little sneak peek, then rent the film Somewhere In Time, which was filmed here on the Island many years ago.  It is a cheesy love story of two people who get lost together in time, reminiscent of the film The Lakehouse; which, as a side note, I found to be extremely confusing, if not somewhat entertaining. 

This is the place I come to surrender stress.  It is where I rejoice in the simple delights of life: the way it is meant to be enjoyed.  And for a lapse of time, I experience a lapse of memory too: my job, my schedule, and my fears all fade into the distance. 

This is where I am this morning; writing from the galley of our temporary home.  It is an idyllic sanctuary and appropriately named Pipe Dream.  I have no cause, no plight, no profound offering to expound upon.  Rather a hope, that one day everyone can experience magic such as this.  

Yes, Mackinac Island is enchanted indeed.  And if ever you are fortunate enough to have your compass point in this direction, then you can smile while gazing out to the red lighthouse at the harbor's edge and  send a little thank you my way, for sharing this secret with you.  And if you have in fact experienced such a place where the tick of the clock is silenced, I am hoping that you might also share your secret with me. 

  

Today:

French Sunrise

1 oz Grey Goose Vodka

1/2 oz Grand Marnier

Orange Juice in a highball glass

Float with Chambord Liqueur 

Mackinac Island