My husband and I are traveling in the Upper Peninsula and stop at a state park for a picnic lunch. Walking across the parking lot, I glance down at the asphalt pavement and see a small turtle, maybe two inches long. Dick picks it up and turns it over. “Painted turtle,” he says. “I’ll put him back in the lake.”
Last fall, a book of my essays was published and I hosted a “launch party” to celebrate. It was a fun, informal gathering and I was pleased to greet many friends and colleagues. One of the guests brought me a tiny green plant as a gift.
When my grandfather invited me to go out to lunch, it wasn’t anyplace fancy, just the Booth Dairy a few blocks away. Booth’s was mostly a place to buy milk and ice cream, but they also had a little lunch counter where you could order sandwiches.