Golden Valleys

 

Back in Michigan, not all that long ago, we had a beautiful, mild autumn, with September stretching through October and leaves remaining on trees into November. Here in southeast Arizona now in early December, fall lingers in a similar way. There are no flaming red and orange maples here, none of the purples of green ash, but there is gold in abundance. I think of prospectors violating the mountains for metal, while all around them nature clothed the valleys in bright leaves. 

This past weekend the Dos Cabezas Mountain Gallery resumed its annual holiday show and sale, interrupted last year by COVID-19. It was my privilege and joy earlier in the week to help set up the “tree” on the porch – and then to see the entire house transformed by unimaginable hours of work by the local artists and craftspeople. 

On Saturday a basket maker from Pearce demonstrated his craft in the sun-warm side yard, while indoors visitors shopped for Christmas in a mellow, festive atmosphere of happy conversations, sparkling lights, bright colors, and soft music. When Carol on her autoharp and her brother Walter on his harmonica gave their rendition of “Red River Valley,” the favorite song of one of my grandfathers, I had that exquisite feeling of a perfect moment and knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be. The Christmas spirit came to me at last, as it has in the past in Northport at concerts of the Leelanau Children’s Choir or the downtown tree lighting on a snowy evening.  Added knowledge here is that Walter was born in this same little house where we all were gathered, next door to what used to be the town post office.

Next door...

Look closely to see the building's identification.

The husband of my long-time friend Juleen (we worked together in Kalamazoo back in the 1970s) has written his autobiography, A Life in Three Acts: My Journey from Wartime Burma to America, by Solomon K. Samuels, and that book is my current reading. As was true of the World War II experience of families in eastern Europe (Unbreakable revealed a Czechoslovakian family story to me; see book report section of this previous post), what people in Burma suffered during and after the war is largely unknown to Westerners. Sam’s youth in British-ruled Rangoon as the son of an Indian civil servant was a comfortable middle-class existence before the war, but then came food shortages, bombings, Japanese occupation, flight from the city, return, his father’s death, and years of hardship. Maps aid the author in his developing the story of the wartime troop movements. He also details the history of political divisions and strife among Burmese revolutionaries and failure of so many to prepare for a future of independence. 

 

But I am struck, as well, by small, personal notes. The family, hiding during dark evenings from bombing raids, often kept their spirits up by singing. As Christians, many of the songs they sang were traditional hymns, such as “Abide with Me” and “Nearer My God To Thee,” but they also sang American “cowboy songs,” and when Samuels notes one particular favorite, “Red River Valley,” he cites its lyrics as particularly poignant to his family. That same song my grandfather loved (my mother's stepfather, he was, a north Florida "cracker"), the same song sister and brother Carol and Walter played so beautifully on Saturday here in Dos Cabezas.

 

All of this – the gallery scene, tales of wartime decades ago, my surroundings here in the ghost town – bring to my mind thoughts of mountains and valleys. As human beings, we know numerous metaphorical valleys in our lives, some of despair, others of delight, and we also know metaphorical mountains. A mountain can push us to our limits, sometimes even threaten death, while others – or maybe the very same, those of arduous climb! – are exhilarating in the effort required and the clarity of the air, the summit’s view its own reward.

Are these my "golden years"? Here in the mountains, looking down into the valley, I only know that today I feel at home and as fortunate to be here, now, as I am to be at home in Leelanau when I am there -- these two little places filled with loving-hearted friends.

More Small Town Seasonal Warmth

Dolls and SO Much More!

Colorful Indoor Vista

From the moment that Sally’s store opens in the morning, even before her customers begin to pour in, evidence of activity is everywhere, along with bright colors and a dazzling variety of materials and textures. The name of her shop is Dolls and More, with an accent on the More. 

Do you know what you’re looking in the pictures below? Luckily, I can now add captions.

Teddy Bear Pieces

Ready to Repaint an Old Doll

About the time I was leaving, Sally’s first customers had come for potluck lunch and a class in handmade greeting cards. A congenial proprietor and welcoming atmosphere make 102 Nagonaba (annex entrance on Mill Street) a magnet for local crafters and shoppers. In Northport, friends are customers, and customers become friends.

Coming Together at Sally's Shop

Woodstock Woman Brings/Finds Fun to/in Northport

Saturday arrived, the day of the furoshiki wrapping demonstration at Dog Ears Books, and so did the snow! Someone in the bookstore commented that it was like one of those glass paperweights that you shake up to make the snow fall, except that we were indoors and the gently falling snowflakes outside the glass. I like the photo below, looking out from inside, because there is another OPEN flag across the way and lots of cars on Waukazoo Street, showing that Northport is open for business and fun.

Marjorie came early with the beautiful wrapping cloths and good, clear instruction handouts, too.



She also brought delightful homemade sugar cookies. She’d found a cookie cutter in the shape of Michigan’s lower peninsula, and each cookie sported an additional decoration to locate Northport on the map. Charming!


Okay, it must be admitted: The laughter started immediately, as we all wanted to get at the cloths and make our selections before the demonstration even got underway.


But finally everyone sat down and prepared to be attentive, and we quickly learned three different ways to wrap something as simple as a book or CD.




Isn’t this a pretty presentation?

There’s a more complicated wrap for a wine bottle, which Marjorie demonstrated with what I could find in my recycling bin, namely, a root beer bottle. The wrapped bottle looked particularly whimsical to me, and Marjorie says each wrapped bottle tends to take on a different character, depending on size, shape and fabric used.


A couple more people came after the first scheduled demonstration was finished, and Marjorie obligingly repeated her instructions. As I have already indicated, there was a lot of laughter in the bookshop on Saturday, several people expressing relief that they had chosen not to drive to Traverse City on such a wild winter day. Whatever the weather, we do know how to have fun in Northport, and women everywhere tend to laugh a lot when we gather together.


One group, leaving Dog Ears, was headed right around the corner to Sally Coohon’s Dolls and More for more shopping, craft-making and fun.


Marjorie and Walt make their home in Woodstock, New York, but they spend a couple of nice, long stretches in Northport, Michigan, on summer and winter visits to Walt’s mother. Unsolicited, Marjorie gave Northport quite a nice little rave during the course of her presentation. She loves all the art galleries that are open in summer, but even in the quiet winter months she finds plenty to keep her happy from Dog Ears Books to Dolls and More to the Pennington Collection, with a break at Brew North while Walt works out at the Northport Fitness Center. I loved hearing her say how much she found to enjoy and keep her busy in our little village. Thank you so much, Marjorie, for bringing your enthusiasm and ideas to share with us in Northport!