A Return to Milford

Josh at our brunch place. Although it poured in the morning, by noon all sunny

Gates of Milford with Steve and Josh walking together. Very similar body types. The kids are lucky they have Steve's body

Cute shops, flower baskets, nearby water. What's not to like? Typical Steve avoiding the sun while Josh ties to get the most out of it

Back at the house, Allie was up from her nap. As soon as she sees a camera, she smiles

Milford is a cute little town about 4 miles north of Josh chock full of non-chain restaurants and boutiques. It reminds me of the resort towns up north like Charlevoix. Unfortunately it is connected to the outside world by a narrow bumpy road that can't handle the traffic. Josh occasionally carpools with one of its residents and it takes a half hour from him to make the trip.

I was surprised to find how nice Milford was. My grandma had a cottage just a few miles northwest of it in the 60s. To get there, we had to go through Milford which did not favorably impress me at all. It was surrounded by trailer parks, junk yards. But in 50 years, things can change I guess. The trailer parks have been replaced by upscale housing developments.

In the summers, I would spend a few days with my grandma on her lake. She had a rowboat which I would take out to fish for sunfish and crappies. She would diligently bone them for their few ounces of flesh while surrounded by yellow jackets. She had a spear in which she would hunt for bullfrogs though she never did this in front of me. The lake was very weedy and full of deer flies. She had lots of innertubes for floating and a hammock. My grandma was not much of a cook. Usually her younger husband was in charge of that and I hated his cooking. She would  go to health food stores, just a few of them back in the day and buy stuff that was considered 'healthy'. She would mix them all together, brewer's yeast, blackstrap molasses, wheat germ to make enormous cookies. She didn't have the patience to make small cookies. I would gnaw on these for food, not trusting anything else.

She was a free spirit most interested in her art projects: painting, making flowers from beads,etc. Below is her painting of my mom. She was very cheerful. I never heard her angry at all. This cottage with its rain barrel as a water source was the polar opposite of my father's parents place: a fancy mansion full of antiques. Two different worlds.

 

The cottage burnt down at some point.