Cherries are the calling card of Northern Michigan. They represent our home, just as citrus represents Florida or lobsters represent Maine.
Here in the North, orchards define our landscape, U-Picking is a beloved tradition, and a slice of pie means “I love you.”
There’s a reason we proudly call the Grand Traverse region the Cherry Capital of the World. Michigan farmers grow about 65% of the tart cherries in the United States, and more than half of the mitten state’s crop comes from Grand Traverse, Leelanau, and Antrim counties, with a few farms in Benzie and Kalkaska counties as well.
Cherry production in this region is said to have begun in 1852 when, according to legend, Presbyterian missionary Peter Dougherty planted numerous cherry trees on the Old Mission Peninsula.
The trees thrived, and other residents began planting their own orchards. A century ago, in 1925, the community organized the Blessing of the Blossoms Festival and crowned its first cherry queen, Gertrude Brown.
A few years later, the Michigan state legislature passed a resolution making the Cherry Festival a national celebration. Since then, it has been held almost every year, with cancellations only during the Great Depression, World War II, and the Covid-19 pandemic.
For many Northern Michigan residents, our identity is tied to cherries — and not just to promote the region or attract tourists to the North.
Bob Sutherland, CEO of Cherry Republic, says it well: “Anyone who lives here has a bit of orchard dirt under their fingernails.”
But today cherry growers face a perfect storm of challenges, from environmental to political.
Unpredictable temperature swings caused by climate change threaten cherry buds in spring; low-cost foreign imports have driven down the prices U.S. growers can expect; the labor needed for harvest is scarce due to prohibitive housing prices and restrictive national immigration policies; and the local real estate boom has discouraged producers from staying on their land when they can sell orchards for millions.
Between 2015 and 2022, the acreage of tart cherries in production in Michigan fell from 28,400 to 23,000 acres (about 11,490 to 9,308 hectares), according to a USDA study — nearly 20% of cherry orchards, land that will never return to agriculture.
Local growers and political figures raised the alarm during the “Climate Action Campaign Extreme Weather Emergency Tour” press conference held this month at Eckerle Farm in Suttons Bay.
The event was the second stop on a press tour in four states to highlight the dangers of climate change for farmers. Among the speakers were farmer Leisa Eckerle Hankins, who also owns the cherry-themed store Benjamin Twiggs in Traverse City, growers Isaiah Wunsch and Juliette King-McAvoy, Michigan State University (MSU) Extension specialist Nikki Rothwell, and Leelanau County commissioner Gwenne Allgaier.
Farmers shared stories from the 2024 and 2025 seasons, marked by devastating crop losses, fungal outbreaks, and rising insurance costs.
Some farmers even wonder if the cherry industry will survive here in the long term — and many are looking for solutions.
With July and the busy harvest period approaching, among farm stands and farmers markets, we turned to producers across the region to hear about their difficulties, concerns, hopes, and ideas in the face of what could be the biggest challenges of their lives.
The west coast of Michigan provides an ideal environment for our fruit belt, making this fertile region the second most agriculturally diverse in the nation after California’s Central Valley.
Lake Michigan is our salvation, explains Rothwell, an MSU specialist at the Northwest Michigan Horticulture Research Center in Leelanau County. The lake moderates temperatures along the coast, and the land provides rich soils for growing sweet and tart cherries.
Farmer Don Gregory, of Leelanau, recalls that when he arrived in the region in the early 1970s, people would bet on what day the West Grand Traverse Bay would freeze over.
The longer the bay stayed frozen, he explains, the more likely it was to have a good crop. Now, he says, farmers bet on how many years will pass before the bay freezes at all.
In the past, growers could count on a bountiful crop every year.
Only once in a lifetime would an unusual spring warming followed by a frost kill the buds. It happened in 1945, as soldiers returned home from Europe and the Pacific at the end of the war. “Once in a lifetime,” farmers told their children.
When in 2002 the cherries were destroyed by an early thaw followed by frost, Gregory and others thought they had paid their dues.
They imagined they could count on the crops of the following years. But ten years later, they lost the harvest again due to an early thaw.
Rothwell remembers that day — it was her mother’s birthday, March 29, 2012.
Temperatures reached 80°F (over 26°C) and the sweet cherries of Northern Michigan were in full bloom. In the following days, no fewer than 22 frosts were recorded, once again decimating the crop.
That second disaster within a decade opened the door to low-cost imports, as processors and suppliers who once relied on Michigan growers looked elsewhere to meet their customers’ needs.
They found available sources abroad in Turkey and Poland. Turkey, which claims to produce over 20% of the world’s cherry supply (a figure disputed by Northern Michigan growers), heavily subsidizes its industry and pays growers far less than what American farmers need to remain economically viable.
But it’s not the quantity of imported cherries that poses the threat, says fifth-generation farmer Eckerle Hankins.
Because in places like Turkey cherries can be grown at lower costs, “they play on price,” she says. “It’s the price that impacts growers here.”
Two years ago, Williamsburg farmer John Pulcipher decided to uproot the trees in a cherry orchard his family had harvested for 150 years.
“I didn’t want to watch them slowly die after raising them all, so I’m just taking them out and moving on,” he told the Detroit Free Press. The news raised concerns — and drew disappointment from some local growers.
“It’s frustrating to see people pulling out trees,” says Eckerle Hankins.
“Sometimes negative news, the big sensational stories, get more coverage than the positive side of things.”
Farmer Greg Williams, of Leelanau, has owned and rented 370 acres (about 150 hectares) near Cedar, including about 300 acres of tart and sweet cherries and 60 acres of apples and peaches.
“We should be getting 75 cents a pound right now for tart cherries, but due to foreign imports, the grower only gets 15–20 cents a pound,” he explains. “It’s not sustainable for me to continue this way. I’m investing the value of my land to subsidize fruit growing.”
To make matters worse, inflation after the pandemic and Russia’s war in Ukraine have driven fertilizer prices sky-high.
Labor costs have also skyrocketed, as more and more farmers pay the federal government to bring in foreign workers with temporary visas.
Last year Williams put 217 acres (about 87 hectares) up for sale, a portion of his land overlooking Good Harbor Bay and the Manitou Islands.
He intends to keep only about 60 acres (about 24 hectares) to continue supplying a fresh fruit stand in downtown Cedar.
“I bought this land intending that the cherries would pay the bills,” he says.
“It’s sad to say, but orchards that have always been here in my lifetime are disappearing. Leelanau County is turning into a subdivision in open fields.”
The “subdivision” Williams refers to is a widely discussed trend worrying farmers.
The boom in real estate values along the Lake Michigan coast and on the nearby hills with their spectacular views is leading growers to sell to developers, cashing in on land their families have farmed for generations.
The difficulties facing the region’s cherry producers are enormous, but solutions may also be growing in the orchards, ready to be harvested.
King Orchards, in Antrim County, has intentionally diversified its crops.
Now, only a quarter of its 400 acres (about 162 hectares) is devoted to tart cherries.
The rest hosts asparagus, strawberries, raspberries, peaches, nectarines, pears, apples, and vegetables.
“You can’t grow just cherries; you have to grow ten other things,” says King-McAvoy.
“My father and uncle realized we needed to diversify to reduce risks and ensure our workers can count on us for more than just one month of work.”
But diversification doesn’t always begin and end with crops.
Don Gregory of Cherry Bay Orchards has focused on geographical diversification to reduce risks.
Although the majority of the company’s 3,000 acres (about 1,214 hectares) are in Leelanau County, Gregory also works with partners in the Elk Rapids area and rents land in southeastern Michigan near Benton Harbor.
Two-thirds of the acreage is devoted to tart cherries; the rest to sweet cherries and apples.
Diversification can also include offering products and services outside traditional sales.
Shooks Farm, near Torch Lake, which grows 300 acres (about 121 hectares) of cherries, also buys apples to produce cider and has opened a winery, Cellar 1914, creating an agritourism destination to help keep the business profitable.
Last May, the MSU Extension hosted the first Agritourism Summit in Traverse City, showcasing farms like Shooks that have diversified their operations.
Other farmers have found specific niches.
More than twenty years ago, Cheryl and Alan Kobernik switched exclusively to organic cherry farming at their farm, North Star Organics near Frankfort, which commands higher prices and attracts a loyal customer base.
“People who are serious about eating organic don’t want to buy anything else,” says Cheryl.
“Our switch to organic was a business decision. Not to save the world, but to save the business.”
Investing in workers, offering them good housing, and encouraging them to return year after year has also helped farmers weather these tough times.
In 2021, former President Biden visited Northern Michigan, stopping for a tour at King Orchards.
King-McAvoy, along with Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer and U.S. Senators Debbie Stabenow and Gary Peters, had the opportunity to explain how climate change and foreign imports are affecting cherry growing.
King-McAvoy also introduced Biden to farmworkers Pedro Francisco and Juana Miguel.
After leaving their Guatemala and arriving in Antrim County as teenagers, Francisco and Miguel worked as migrant laborers and have been part of the King Orchards team for 28 years.
Francisco is now a sort of crew leader, recruiting the dozens of seasonal workers the farm needs to harvest fruit.
“We believe immigration drives economic growth,” says King-McAvoy.
“The Franciscos and employees like them create more jobs. For every manual laborer, we can employ two high school students to work at a fruit stand and truck drivers to haul our products.”
King Orchards and Cherry Bay Orchards have also addressed the shortage of farm labor by providing on-site housing for migrants and building a reputation for respecting workers.
Cherry Bay Orchards houses up to 70 H2A visa workers during the growing season.
The days when growers automatically passed their land to children and grandchildren are gone.
Many young people show little interest in working in the fields like their parents did, preferring to move to urban areas.
But the 25-year-old son of Leisa Eckerle Hankins, Zach, is an exception.
He represents the fifth generation of the Eckerle farm, which has 250 acres (about 101 hectares) of tart cherries near Suttons Bay.
“We need farmers. We need to continue to support, educate, and work with young people,” says Eckerle Hankins.
“What they hear doesn’t have to be all negative.
“Farming is the heart of America, and it always will be,” she adds.
“Without food, we are not sustainable.”
Zach Hankins himself is a story of diversification.
He has a welding degree from Northwestern Michigan College in Traverse City, which he can use to earn money during the off-season or when work in the orchards slows.
But life on the farm is what he wants.
“Today there aren’t many young people going into farming, but it’s what I grew up with,” he says.
“When I was little, I lived on the farm with my grandparents and they taught me everything.”
Organic grower Cheryl Kobernik also sees hope in the future.
The Koberniks’ organic U-Pick farm in Benzie County attracts 5,000 people each year during its eight or nine days of harvest season, some coming from Chicago or Detroit to fill multiple freezers with cherries.
“Those people teach us to look up and see the views; they bring us joy,” says Cheryl. “At the end of the day my face hurts from smiling so much.”
Image source: Glen Arbor Sun
Jacob Wheeler
Glen Arbor Sun
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