For at least ten years I’ve passed this magical little house in Holland, Michigan. It’s haunting existence dares me to write about it but as a faerie story. It fits the beguiling nature of the wee folk but yet I haven’t allowed my imagination to run wild to create a fascinating tale.
The small building seems to be half buried into the ground with a curved roof line that is longer on one side than the other. It has a singular door under the short angled roof. There’s one window opposite the door which is very squatty and long. The house sits back about 80 yards from the road surrounded by a field of grass. Pine trees provide a backdrop for the faerie bungalow.
I half expected to see a grass roof on this home lending more reality to faerie tale prop than not. Perhaps it is a garden house meant for the care of the field. I’ve often wanted to stop and inquire to the nature of the home.
The most enchanting time to see the house is when evening falls and the moon rises. The beams illuminate the whole area making the possibility of wee folk follies seem real. I’m hoping by just writing this small bit will help me get back to sleep and quit thinking about the possibilities.