Betty Jo Hudson has had to give up driving, an adventure that she described in a guest post a couple of years ago. She has not, of course, had to give up riding, and off she goes on her rounds, doing pretty much everything she used to do before the pesky vision problems. Some of her rounds take her to Elk Rapids, and for some of these I am her driver, which is a great pleasure. While I drive, Betty Jo is busy with her voice-managed phone, or telling me stories about the weekend’s entertainment, or petting the Cowboy. (She has spoiled him completely and now I must leave the Duo at home or there will be no living with him.)
I have learned that there are all kinds of special glasses that make the most of limited vision in a theatre setting. Betty Jo says it is best to sit in the back or up in the balcony for stage performances, as she captures the full panorama that way. She loves movies and volunteers for the Traverse City Film Festival. She teaches an exercise class at the Senior Center at Sacred Heart, making sure that everyone reaches. (It’s not what you can, she says, but how you can.) She sees all the blues in Torch Lake outside her window. She sees Photos by Babs on her lovely large monitor. She sees all kinds of things that I miss. This particular spot just off US 31, for example. It has become Betty Jo’s Road.
She spotted it early in October and said Oh! What a pretty road! Naturally we had to turn around and go back to explore. It turned out the road was really a private drive, so we just stayed out at the highway and admired the trees. As the season progressed, the view changed. Each time we headed north she watched for her road, and prepared to enjoy it again. October is fleeting, which is possibly why we love it so much. We had a week of dull days, and considered the possibility that the Big Show was over for this year. Then came the encore. All week there have been gifts of sunny moments and blazing color.
Roads can grow rocky, and roads can grow weary. Troubles can ride your shoulders like a tattered old shawl. But here’s the thing. You never know what riches lie ahead. It’s good to keep your heart open for the arrival of unexpected mercies. And that is what I have learned while Driving Miss Betty Jo.
Torch Lake Views 
uphilldowndale
October 29, 2011
What a thing to learn, we must all take note. Especially the duo…
Your Autumn colours are just magical.
Gerry
October 29, 2011
On behalf of Mama Nature’s magical little helpers in northern Michigan I thank you. I have been telling people that I’m autumn-drunk. Sue Swain glanced out her workshop window and saw me standing in a meadow across the road while the Duo nosed about in the brush. What, she wondered, could I be looking at? Finally she concluded that I was just . . . looking.
Sybil
October 29, 2011
That’s quite the private drive !
I think that you are right. It is the fleetingness of autumn that makes it so special, and you sure captured its beauty.
Gerry
October 29, 2011
Would’ve missed it entirely if it hadn’t been for Miss Betty Jo. The drive goes back into a farmyard; it’s impressive more for its functionality than anything else. Of course, I am all about farmyard functionality and Local Food.
Dawn
October 29, 2011
That’s a good lesson, to see what you can see regardless of your vision limitations. And to turn around and go look when you catch a glimpse of something beautiful. Because it will never look exactly like that again. Good for you both. Thanks for sharing.
Gerry
October 30, 2011
I think it’s a good metaphor for Life in General–an incorrigible belief that there might be something wonderful just around the next bend.
P.j. grath
October 29, 2011
Beautiful indeed, Gerry, and I am autumn-drunk right alongside you. But poor Cowboy, gazing plaintively through the door! How could you leave him behind?
Gerry
October 30, 2011
Tough love. And, um, a nice long walk and a piece of banana. The Cowboy will do almost anything for a piece of banana. (Miss Sadie is bewildered by his enthusiasm for fruits and vegetables. She is a meat and cheese girl herself.)
Joss
October 31, 2011
It must be lovely where you are at this time of year. I have your big, big leaf-scape set as my desk-top at the moment and several people have asked where the picture was taken.
Gerry
October 31, 2011
Now there are words to warm the cockles of my heart. Thank you, Joss. Torch Lake Township would present you with the keys to the village, but we’ve mislaid them.
shoreacres
October 31, 2011
What you’ve described here is what I call gunk-holing. Just going, looking for the good thing around the next corner. I gunk-holed my way clear north to Minnesota in the last couple of weeks. Then, over to Wisconsin, and down the river through Illinois to Hannibal. I saw marvelous things that only required keeping my eyes open – not the hardest thing to do, but not always easy, either.
Was glad to travel, but now I’m glad to be home with time to ponder it all. And when I got back, my box of heirloom tomato preserves from American Spoon was here to greet me, along with a postcard from a friend who actually made it to Sleeping Bear dunes. My time’s a-comin’!
Gerry
November 1, 2011
And here we have an example of how even in my own country I am flummoxed by my mother tongue. Do you by chance listen to/subscribe to Writer’s Almanac? Today’s poem, Re-using Words, tickled my funnybone and my admiration bone too.
Susie C.
November 1, 2011
Autumn in Michigan was always my favorite time of year. That much gorgeousness concentrated in such a short period of time made me feel lightheaded.
Gerry
November 1, 2011
That’s it exactly. An overdose of gorgeousness. I believe we’ll be OK though.
isathreadsoflife
November 3, 2011
Your Autumn is so colourful and poetic ! Ours is declining, leaves falling away with the wave of coldness. The trees are less flamboyant but the fields and gardens…just magnificent. Every Season is attractive, we only need to be present and look, don’t we ? Love the way you showed us various angles of this same lovely road. Thanks Gerry.
Gerry
November 3, 2011
Thank you, Isa. Our lovely autumn is bowing out, too–the rain is batting the last leaves off the trees. But there is still a bit of golden glow here and there. I intend to savor every last drop.
shoreacres
November 3, 2011
I don’t read the Writer’s Almanac, although I’ve heard it on NPR and enjoyed it thoroughly. Now it’s in the rotation. And you’re right – the poem “Reusing Words” is deserving of admiration and reason for smiles.
Gerry
November 4, 2011
I’m glad you liked it. It certainly made me smile.
Karma
November 4, 2011
Lovely autumn views of your part of the world. I feel like I am missing out on autumn this year. And of course I love the duo picture.
Gerry
November 5, 2011
You have already had more than your share of Winter Wonderland, though, so that’s all right then . . .
No, of course it’s not. I am sorry that your autumn was interrupted rudely, and would be glad to think that the Reproachful Duo made up for it a bit. But didn’t you have a fine, brave Halloween? You did.