Five miles north of Empire, after the turnoff from M-22 to M-109, I slowed and began looking for the two-track to The Ritz. I knew where it ought to be, but there was no break in the emerald wall of trees. Confused, disappointed, I rounded a curve out of the forest into an open meadow. I looked right, down a long grassy field that sloped towards Little Glen Lake, and then, through a row of small pines, I saw it.

I had pictured a roofless, windowless ruin, lost to fire or neglect—or worse, bright and fresh and irredeemably tawdry,...

The morning after we found The Ritz, it was “Michigan weather” for sure in Leelanau. Here on the forty-fifth parallel, halfway between the equator and the pole, bright sunlight painted Van-Gogh-in-Provence color everywhere we looked. The field grasses and wildflowers danced in a lively breeze; gone was the humidity that only the day before had seemed capable of harboring ghosts. Today was for the present, for Deje and me, not the past.

After breakfast, we decided to go for a hike, so we took M-109 north past the dune climb and down into Glen Haven. The sight of the big...

The suitcases and the playpen, the Frisbees and the Wiffle Balls are all packed in the wayback of the car; the snacks are on the floor of the front seat where Deje can dole them out to our hungry kids as we drive south towards Charlotte. I go back inside Mom and Dad’s house in Columbus for the farewell ritual. We stand around smiling nervously for a moment; then thank-yous, handshaking, and hugging begin—and a few tears. Dad waits till he hears the first sniffles; then he says, “You know we can’t miss you ‘til you’re gone.” A stranger...

It was a clear July evening in 2001, just two days after I cornered my parents’ ghosts in The Ritz, when Deje and I drove to the Sleeping Bear dune climb for a special event. Since 1998, the Glen Arbor Art Association has sponsored an annual summer concert at the dunes; on this night, members of the Traverse Symphony Orchestra would perform. We were ten minutes early, but the main parking lot was already full. Shuttle buses were bringing people to the dunes from a remote lot on Little Glen, but we only found that out later—so like many...

It’s July 2007, Deje and I are back in Leelanau, and the Monarchs have taken over. We’ve never seen so many. They dart over the sidewalks when we shop in town, over the dunes when we go hiking, over the beaches on hot afternoons. Again and again one dances right up to our eyes, hovers an instant, then flies off. I pull out my digital camera and try to catch them in my pixel net—but they hardly ever alight. What are they up to? When do they eat? They don’t seem to be mating, yet they almost seem driven....