Misty morning

I remember fog in Midland as generally being heavy and very wet. And more vaguely in autumn, though I could be wrong on all counts.

A light morning fog, rather like this mist I encountered when I got up this morning, is usually one of the first signs that autumn is coming and it usally starts around mid-August. But this year it's six weeks late, with the leaves turning color and falling, and now the cedar fronds are turning orange -- fall is well underway.

But it was nice to see the misty morning this morning.

Spoiled

I never really realized how spoiled I've become by Seattle's mild climate. Sure, whenever Kathy said, "Let's move to Midland" (haven't heard that in a while) I'd come back with "hot, humid summers and February." She's really no stranger to both, from what I have seen of her family's corner of Connecticut, and especially long winters.

But I was shocked when I left the office yesterday -- it wasn't that hot (even for Seattleites, in the high 70s) but the relative humidity was very near 100%. I started perspiring instantly. And when I got home, well, the windows were open so the house was unplasantly humid. This is maybe the second or at most third time I remember encountering such conditions in my 27 years here. And it just seems wrong to want to have A/C in autumn, when we get through the summer without it.

I know Midland summers are not completely like this, but it's what remains in memory.

Midland by bike

When we return (it seems it is no longer "if", according to Kathy) we will have to take at least a couple of days and rent bicycles, to see the place the way I saw it then. Although I was the passenger on our visit, so I could navigate by map and memory, it was just too different. (I didn't learn to drive until my family moved to California.)

We both noticed during our visit the numbers of folks getting about by bike. Of course it was a weekend and they were mostly leisure rides, but Midland is very well set up for cycling. I say this from the perspective of living in a city that for whatever reason calls itself the cycling capital of the Pacific Northwest (the drivers here are fairly cycle-friendly, even for the region) and as a cycle-commuter for many years -- until we bought a house where it became too dangerous (narrow, winding, high-speed roads).

I miss the cycle-commute; over time I perfected my commuter bike to the point where experienced cyclists look at it in puzzlement: French frame, mountain bike gearing so low I could sit and spin up hills that have the young bucks standing on their pedals, 30-year-old randonnee bars (fit me perfctly but long off the market -- I have a spare set), bar-end friction shifters, mountain bike pedals, rack, fenders and mudflaps...

Here I rode year-round except for snow or marginal health, or when the river flooded the trail in spring. I guess in Midland I'd not be riding for about 3 months, though as a MDN paperboy I rode most every day.

Funny to think my shortest daily commute here (7 miles) was rather a bit longer than my furthest ventures in Midland: whether it was the long haul to visit Gloria, Judy, or Sidney. The last such ride is memorable: I rode out midwinter in the slippery snow&ice with skates in the rack, struggling but managing to stay upright... until I was in front of her house, right in front of her, where to my embarrassment I slipped and fell, getting soaked.

Autumn

Ever since my visit to Midland --so familar, so strange-- it's been on my mind much more than it has for decades. But I think when it is on my mind, it's never more so than in autumn.

I don't remember autumn as a quiet time in Midland; after all the school year was getting underway with lots of activities, new friends, the football season and so much more. But now it has become a sort of quiet time, for reflection, and not just memories of a loss to our family a long time ago in this season -- Kathy and I are both working to recover "autumn" from that memory.

One of the (small) things I don't like about my job is that my peak travel season is in autumn. I don't get to flow with the season; it appears, advances, and departs in fits and jumps. When I left on my last trip we had just the precursor of autumn, a bit early. When I returned again Friday it was clear we're well into autumn and it is evidently going to be one of the most muted years I can recall. I'll know more this coming Thursday when I see what's transpired my week away. Two or more trips after that and the leaves should be down -- it will be over.

All that was highlighted as I took the train in Switzerland from Zurich airport to Lucerne today (first time ever in Switzerland) and I saw the beginnings of Swiss autumn. But it looks to be Midland-style, probably dominated by dramatic tree colors, and unlike Seattle where the trees are sometimes secondary to the shrubbery with muted colors.

I wonder what's happening in Midland now. The first maples should be starting to turn at the top, no?

Passing through

Back in Seattle it's a dark, wet, gloomy autumn day. But here in DTW airport it's cheery, bright and sunny -- and comfortably warm if the pilot was right. If it weren't for security I'd be tempted to go outside and enjoy it.

Our approach was unusual, with a significant diversion to the north that almost took us over Midland and probably put us in viewing range, though I was in an aisle seat.

But in any event I'm just passing through: in a couple of hours I'm off to St. Louis MO for a few days. I thought about picking up some more maple syrup at the Michigania store, but think I'll do it sometime when I'm passing through on the way home.

Two days is not enough!

Bill and I were talking the other night about our recent visit to Midland and how it was very different for us both.

He reconnected with some places and people and I saw him come to life. I really enjoyed meeting people and tagging along to the various old haunts including his home and the old neighborhood, walking down the sidewalk with him as my guide. What really got me was just how much more there was to see there than two days could allow. I left wanting more. I definitely want to come back!

No doubt about it, I did not see the hottest (muggiest and buggiest) part of the summer, nor did I endure February, but what I saw, I liked. Mind you, I have lived in some exotic (and not so exotic) places around the world, but nothing prepared me for the warm reception I received there in Midland. I felt like I had come home, and it wasn't even my home. I must have sounded as much like a broken record as he did when seeing my home town in New England. "This looks so much like Michigan!" "This looks so much like Connecticut!" Our homes, though many hundreds of miles apart, are part of what drew us together. I am glad I met this Michigan boy and married him. 31 years later - no regrets.

Midland in work-related news

I was a little surprised to see Midland pop up when I was performing some work-related searches. Among the various aspects of my job in the commercial-building HVAC controls industry, I am a LEED Accredited Professional (my focus is on energy-efficiency) and from time to time I take a look at what's going on in the world of LEED and "green" buildings.

It started with Green and Local, the construction of a LEED building in Midland. That had reference to the Chippewa Nature Center preschool, which is pursuing a LEED Platinum rating. To think we almost went there, but didn't. Oh well. I got my first tour of a LEED Platinum building just this week.

MidMichigan Medical Center goes green for expansion and renovation -- I vaguely recall seeing signs about that when we drove by the center during our visit. The article notes that they "draw on LEED", not that they're going for a LEED rating. (But boy, is that hospital ever different from the one where they removed my tonsils a long time ago!)

And as a side-note on one website there was this:
Midland ranked top 10 in nation by Business Facilities Magazine (poor title, it should have said 3rd).

Michiganders everywhere!

At dinner Monday night during my committee meetings in Atlanta, some question prompted me to ask the fellow across the table where he was from. "Jackson, Michigan" was the answer. At first I thought "We've discussed this before" but then I remembered that one of our meeting hosts is also from Jackson, with an aunt in Midland she visited often in her childhood days. (Learned this at dinner with her in Albuquerque a couple of months ago, when the then-upcoming visit was prominent in my mind.)

And on the flight home from Atlanta Tuesday evening, the seats in front of me were pretty vocal (i.e. loud) and I learned one of them is also a Michigander.

At this rate, and based on my experiences thus far traveling, I would not be overly surprised to encounter a Michigander when I'm in Switzerland 2-1/2 weeks hence (business, another committee, not staying to tour).