As Spring has gradually returned to Northern Michigan, so too have visitors. They arrive in much the same way: subtly but steadily, until suddenly everything is green and suddenly there are people! People from Detroit and Ann Arbor, people from Chicago and Indianapolis and Ohio, even people from California and my own home state of Virginia. All week long I’ve been chatting with these new people, and every one of them has been overwhelmed by the beauty of orchards in blossom.
For a few fleeting weeks every year our world is a riot of pink and white, a visual feast not to be missed. So Justin made me another map and sent me out into the bright sunshine to catch the tail end of blossom season.
And I was reminded, yet again, of the heart-wrenching beauty of this narrow band of lakeshore, where generation after generation of small family farmers grow some of America’s most delicious fruits. I was also briefly zapped by an electric fence, but I prefer to focus on the scent of apple blossoms and the warmth of sunshine and the promise of fruit.