This is the farmhouse where the record plays
And the grandparents, the dog, and the twelve year old stays.
This is the barn where the critters abound,
The teenagers bunk and the art hangs around.
This is the gazebo, the rowboat, the pond,
Yellow chairs sit waiting and the bridge leads beyond…
…into the woods where moss carpets the ground,
The pine smell hangs freely and absorbs every sound.
We stayed at the Lundgren Tree Farm in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (just over the Wisconsin border) for a long weekend in October. We traveled there at our nearly eighteen year old daughter’s request to unplug and unwind with family.
The farmhouse, built in the 1880’s, was bought in the 1960’s, along with the surrounding acreage, by a judge/artist who planted thousands of trees and renovated the barn to include an office, an artist studio, and two bedrooms. He left behind his artwork and vast record and book collection for his family and their guests to enjoy. The farm is rustic and rough around the edges and not for everyone (insert sounds of critters in the night here), but it was a perfect place for our family to reconnect with nature and each other while disconnecting from everything else.
There was a campfire,
many walks in the woods,
and time spent lounging and reading and playing games.
There may have been some time spent in a tree with an axe and war paint after hearing “wolves” at dusk. Don’t even ask.
There were wild turkeys and deer, pileated woodpeckers and bald eagles. Of course, I only got a picture of a squirrel, so you’ll just have to take my word about the rest.
Meals were shared.
Adventures were had.
Time was spent well.
Life is good.