This ain’t no

Two years ago my husband took me to upper Michigan (they call it “up-north,” I call it “up-up-north”) for his family’s annual summer trip. We had our own cute cabin, some water, and our dog stayed somewhat in control (which, for a 6-month old lab is pretty good, right?). But that water…

My family and I have been to several patches of water in our travels, but we only had one beach concept: Gulf Shores. I even call other sections along that water “Gulf Shores” regardless of what the town is actually called. Soft sand, brilliant, blue, sparkling water. The epitome of water reaching land and my weary legs lain down. My ignorant self did not take into account that a Great Lake is not the same as a Great Gulf.

Rocks everywhere. Chilly in July. And the water had. no. salt. Simply understanding of geography and a weather app could have told me that these things were true but it didn’t process until I was ankle deep and whisper “what the %*^&T? Those folks love their big lakes, and good on them, and we’ll surely join them again when our lives smooth out a tad. But semantics is valuable thing — there’s a difference between a beach and where water hits land.

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