Ye old #farmlands of Northern Michigan.  (at M22)

Ye old #farmlands of Northern Michigan. (at M22)

Fishtown, an historic district in our favorite spot in the Mitten of Michigan (aka the Lower Peninsula). Love imagining what tourist towns were like when they were real, gritty working towns. Instead of imagining everyone naked like you’re told to do when speaking, just imagine everyone with a beard and a hook for a hand. #puremichigan (at Fishtown Leland)

Fishtown, an historic district in our favorite spot in the Mitten of Michigan (aka the Lower Peninsula). Love imagining what tourist towns were like when they were real, gritty working towns. Instead of imagining everyone naked like you’re told to do when speaking, just imagine everyone with a beard and a hook for a hand. #puremichigan (at Fishtown Leland)

Sandcastles and Sleeping Bear Dunes with the cutest traveling family we’ve ever met, @malimish_airstream. Aside from mom & dad being a ton of fun to hang out with, their kids start at 2 and help bridge the gap between our young ones and Tristan. It’s too rare that we meet up with other traveling families but we always try and make it happen when they’re around. See you guys down the road!! (at Beulah Beach)

Sandcastles and Sleeping Bear Dunes with the cutest traveling family we’ve ever met, @malimish_airstream. Aside from mom & dad being a ton of fun to hang out with, their kids start at 2 and help bridge the gap between our young ones and Tristan. It’s too rare that we meet up with other traveling families but we always try and make it happen when they’re around. See you guys down the road!! (at Beulah Beach)

Belly button competition. #familiesontheroad  (at Sleeping Bear Dunes Welcome Center)

Belly button competition. #familiesontheroad (at Sleeping Bear Dunes Welcome Center)

Carousel days. Round and rounding the country in search of nothing more than movement. One day it’s all buying flies in a hayfield, the next you’re ball gown downtown city wedding hopping. Life feels completely surreal as of late, having called casino hotels and 9000’ high riverside cabins home, parents, friends and lakeside retreats alike. There is, for certain, a feeling of homelessness, nothing wander whatever that’s indescribable other than perhaps to state that anarchy is not far away. Riding high the mountains and deeping low, low into the valleys. Little things like seeing the boys smile or these toes smoothed up against another random shower pull it all together in a way that makes it feel a little less like running around in favor of, we’ll why wouldn’t you? #carouseldays (at Beulah Beach)

Carousel days. Round and rounding the country in search of nothing more than movement. One day it’s all buying flies in a hayfield, the next you’re ball gown downtown city wedding hopping. Life feels completely surreal as of late, having called casino hotels and 9000’ high riverside cabins home, parents, friends and lakeside retreats alike. There is, for certain, a feeling of homelessness, nothing wander whatever that’s indescribable other than perhaps to state that anarchy is not far away. Riding high the mountains and deeping low, low into the valleys. Little things like seeing the boys smile or these toes smoothed up against another random shower pull it all together in a way that makes it feel a little less like running around in favor of, we’ll why wouldn’t you? #carouseldays (at Beulah Beach)

#VWBus food truck at the Birmingham farmer’s market. @FranksEtc (at BIRMINGHAM FARMERS MARKET)

#VWBus food truck at the Birmingham farmer’s market. @FranksEtc (at BIRMINGHAM FARMERS MARKET)

at Detroit, Michigan

at Detroit, Michigan

Michigan bound. #vandwelling

Michigan bound. #vandwelling

Took a stroll through the fields as the sky went purple only to find ol’ Black-eyed Susan here watching the sun go down.  (at Rural Pennsylvania)

Took a stroll through the fields as the sky went purple only to find ol’ Black-eyed Susan here watching the sun go down. (at Rural Pennsylvania)

This was a working barn when I was a kid. My pap raised cattle, had a killer junkyard full of 1920s-1970s cars, and back then the notion that 8-12 year olds riding their bikes five or ten miles away from home multiple times a day was not viewed as neglect but simply “what boys will do”. Cap gun cowboys and handmade dogwood bow and arrows. Treehouses and finding cow skulls to bust out their teeth just because cow teeth were cool I guess. Numerous hidden forts all through the woods. Catching crayfish and fireflies in a jar. The notion of chain stores had never crossed anyone’s mind, hell there weren’t *any* stores for fifteen miles at least. We ran around an old Massy-Ferguson tractor as our dads and uncles bailed hay to feed the cows all summer long. We rolled tin coffee cans full of the ingredients necessary to make homemade vanilla ice cream in the winter, and I still remember watching my uncles slit the throats of cows, massive amounts of blood rushing out as they prepared the beast for months worth of ground chuck for us, the good parts sent off to some far away market in town. Far from the mass production and grocery store ethics of today’s food chain. Sometimes I can’t even believe it’s the same lifetime… (at Rural Pennsylvania)

This was a working barn when I was a kid. My pap raised cattle, had a killer junkyard full of 1920s-1970s cars, and back then the notion that 8-12 year olds riding their bikes five or ten miles away from home multiple times a day was not viewed as neglect but simply “what boys will do”. Cap gun cowboys and handmade dogwood bow and arrows. Treehouses and finding cow skulls to bust out their teeth just because cow teeth were cool I guess. Numerous hidden forts all through the woods. Catching crayfish and fireflies in a jar. The notion of chain stores had never crossed anyone’s mind, hell there weren’t *any* stores for fifteen miles at least. We ran around an old Massy-Ferguson tractor as our dads and uncles bailed hay to feed the cows all summer long. We rolled tin coffee cans full of the ingredients necessary to make homemade vanilla ice cream in the winter, and I still remember watching my uncles slit the throats of cows, massive amounts of blood rushing out as they prepared the beast for months worth of ground chuck for us, the good parts sent off to some far away market in town. Far from the mass production and grocery store ethics of today’s food chain. Sometimes I can’t even believe it’s the same lifetime… (at Rural Pennsylvania)