Driving along a back dirt road in the Port Oneida District of Sleeping Bear Lakeshore, I am surprised by a farmstead perched on a rise, surrounded by unplowed fields. The house was painted recently, with complimentary red and green window trim and attention to the detailed decorations above the doors and windows. The adjacent corn crib and a granary look new.
Vacant land stretches off in all directions.
It is very still.
Looking through the windows, there is nothing to see - just unadorned walls and a few remaining doors. Clearly, no one lives here, and no one has lived here for a long time.
On the outside, it is painted and perfect. Inside it is empty.
This is the enigma, the paradox, of the farms in Sleeping Bear. Houses and farm buildings, saved or rebuilt, stand as empty placeholders for the working farms of the past.
Over the years, Park personnel stabilized, rebuilt, renovated and painted the buildings at dozens of farmsteads. They mowed the fields and kept trees from growing to keep the horizons wide.
Today, no fields grow corn or wheat. No longer are there gardens or orchards, no rope swings in the trees, no chickens scratching in the yards, no sounds of laughter or life.
By contrast, there are no signs of activity at the ghost farmsteads in the Sleeping Bear Lakeshore. They simply stand year after year, silent and enduring. In their own way they too have an uncommon allure and a simple beauty, these quiet buildings in motionless landscapes.
