This was my favorite view of the harbor.

This was my last drive in the early morning light into Saugatuck. Down the winding road through Campit, the campground that was our home for the month…shafts of fog-filtered light dappling the lovingly tended seasonal campsites, my favorite of which had vintage trailers surrounded by landscaping worthy of full time homes. Past the Hambone Café where over the course of the last month I suspect I ate dozens of blueberry pancakes, topped with house-made blueberry sauce. Past a string of u-pick it farms from which the blueberries for those pancakes came and where now the peaches are ready for plucking. Past the flea market where we scored a tiny rattan elephant to accompany us on our journey. The perfect souvenir from this stop. Past rows and rows of towering blue spruce that make me feel like it’s always Christmas here.

We had the stunningly designed outdoor patio at Zing all to ourselves the morning I had this amazing Dutch pancake.

Past the restaurant Zing, where we’d have their patio all to ourselves on Saturday morning for a brunch, because as our server observed “Nobody in Saugatuck gets up before noon.”  On past the turn for Douglas, Saugatuck’s twin village where we’d hang in the town park drinking cider from the local mill and listening to bands at the Thursday night town social. And where we’d pick up our mail. After our first visit the postal workers knew who we were and made us feel like locals. Then across the bridge over the Kalamazoo river covered in mist from the morning chill. (Yes my southern peeps, it’s chilly here on August mornings.) Past the most beautiful farmer’s market I’ve ever visited, where every booth was an art installation created from local produce and where I bought my first Armenian cucumber.

Even the public bathroom was part of Saugatuck’s art colony vibe.

The streets of downtown are lined with shops and restaurants housed in bright bungalows.

I’ve been to lots of farmer’s markets and never seen Armenian cucumbers before.

It wasn’t until that last morning that I finally saw the historic chain ferry inching its way across the harbor.

Past the harbor boardwalk lined with the boats of the beautiful people, and finally to my favorite morning hangout, a coffee shop that roasts its own beans and bakes its own scones. It’s hard to imagine how our next stop could be as magical as this one.

But somehow, I suspect it will.