Michigan Summer ‘24

You know the saying, “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone”? That hits home for me when I think about Michigan. Four years ago, I left my hometown of Grand Rapids and moved to Florida in search of a fresh start. It was one of the most challenging, yet exhilarating years of my life. I was pushed out of my comfort zone in ways I never expected, and I grew more than I ever thought possible. Looking back now, I still surprise myself with the boldness of that decision and how deeply it’s shaped who I am today.

But even with all the sunshine, beaches, and new opportunities, there’s something about Michigan that stayed with me - a quiet pull that kept calling me back. So when I recently had the chance to return, I packed my bags with excitement (and maybe a little bit of a homesick heart) and gave myself the space to rediscover a place that once felt so familiar. What I found wasn’t just memories - it was a fresh appreciation for the beauty, comfort, and charm I once called home.

Here’s a little glimpse into my trip back to Michigan - the places I visited, the food I loved, and the unforgettable moments that reminded me of why Michigan will always have a special place in my heart.

There’s something about Michigan’s small towns that makes you want to slow down, take a breath, and romanticize your entire life. Walking around these cute little downtowns, where every shop looks like it hasn’t changed since 1998 (in the best kind of way). It made me feel like the main character in a Hallmark movie, of course, minus the dramatic love triangle. You’ve got cobblestone sidewalks, antique shops that smell like a blend of time-worn books, a dash of mystery, and that “I swear this place hasn’t been dusted since the ‘70s” kind of charm.

Inside, it’s like stepping into a treasure trove of forgotten relics that somehow feel important — even if you can’t figure out exactly why. Tarnished silverware that’s probably survived more family dinners than you have, strange little gadgets that clearly had a purpose… sometime before texting was invented. Maybe even before electricity. You don’t know what half of it does, but yet you love it anyway.

There’s just something about old stuff - it holds stories, mystery, character. It’s got a soul, unlike the mass-produced, overly minimalist things we pretend we love now. And naturally, there's always the smell of coffee wafting nearby. Because nothing completes the moment like sipping a slightly-too-expensive latte brewed by someone wearing vintage overalls and a flannel, while browsing through old records.

And the food? Don’t even get me started. Michigan bar food deserves way more hype. Crispy fries, melty cheese, burgers that should come with a warning label - I live for it! You walk into any small-town bar, order something deep-fried (pickles, no less), and pair it with a cold local beer, and suddenly you're living your best Midwest dream. Honestly, If you don’t walk out of a Michigan bar smelling like fryer grease and stupidly poor decisions, you clearly didn’t commit. And then of course there’s the bonus round: a little bingo with the locals and your friends, a quick session on the pinball machine, and maybe even a cigar for good measure. Because why not? It’s like a full sensory experience - your stomach, your ears, and your soul all getting the perfect treat.

Now, let’s talk about the wineries. Oh, Michigan wineries they’re a whole experience. There’s something magical about walking up to a rustic little winery with the sun shining, a glass of "wine" in hand, and a view that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a Pinterest post. You’re with family, enjoying the moment, laughing, and pretending you’re sophisticated as you take your first sip. Then, reality hits: the wine is questionable. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not talking about bad wine in the sense that it’s undrinkable (well maybe) - it’s just different. It’s sweet, really sweet. Like, "I’m pretty sure this wine could double as a dessert" sweet. But somehow, that makes it even better. There’s something hilarious about pretending you know what you’re talking about while trying to decipher the “notes of cherry” in a glass of wine that tastes more like Welch’s grape juice with a little kick.

But that’s the beauty of it. You’re with family, making memories, laughing at how absolutely heinous some of the wine is, and probably buying a bottle of the worst one just for the inside joke - because why not? No one's swirling and sniffing with a straight face here! It’s not about impressing anyone - it’s about sitting in plastic Adirondack chairs, squinting into the sun, and pretending you totally taste “notes of blackberry” while your mom tries not to spit it out. By the end, nobody’s talking about tannins or body, you’re just buzzed on fresh air and belly laughs, and honestly, it’s pure perfect.

And what better way to follow up a day of sipping bad wine in lawn chairs than with a good old-fashioned Michigan farmers market morning? It’s like a personality cleanse with a side of carbs. You show up planning to “just browse,” and five minutes later you’re juggling blueberries, a loaf of crusty sourdough, and a bunch of basil that smells out of this world. Someone’s playing Fleetwood Mac (or maybe James Taylor, if the vibe’s really right) near the heriloom tomatoes, and suddenly you’re transported - apron on, mind buzzing with recipe ideas, tote bag getting heavier by the minute.

There’s honey that promises to cure everything from allergies to generational trauma, flower bundles you swear you’ll actually arrange this time, and vegetables that somehow make you excited to cook even when it's 90 degrees out. And yes, I am absolutely the person who turns those blueberries into jam - and maybe pickles the cucumbers, too, just for fun. Farmers markets are my candy store: full of mayhem, charm, old-soul energy, and the kind of inspiration that makes me want to cook all day with the windows open and Aretha Franklin playing in the background. By the time I leave, I’ve got a zucchini the size of my arm, a jar of jam I didn’t need but somehow had to have, and a heart full of small-town charm. My wallet’s lighter, but my soul feels full - and honestly, that’s what makes a farmers market day in Michigan all that more special.

So if you ever find yourself in Michigan, lean into it. Wake up early for the farmers market, even if you don’t need anything (you’ll leave with a giant squash and a good story, I promise). Wander through a sleepy small town where time slows down in the best way. Eat the bar burger. Buy the jam. Sip the overly sweet wine and pretend it’s fancy while laughing with your family in the sun. It’s not about perfection - it’s about the little moments that feel real and familiar, even if it’s your first time there. And whats better than that? Isn’t that what makes life so much more fulfilling… the small joys. Michigan isn’t flashy, but it’s full of heart. And once it gets under your skin, it never really leaves - and honestly, you won’t want it to.