Here Now and Looking Ahead

Goldenrod, coneflowers, giant bluestem grass

September has come.

After the freshness of May and June, with all that new life springing greenly forth, September comes in as another of my favorite months, but I can’t even rank-order them, as each is my favorite when it’s upon me, just as each flower of garden and woods and meadow is my favorite when it’s in bloom. Life for the non-retired country dweller, of course, has chores in every season, and the transition from summer to fall is no exception. As business slows down and takes a deep breath, nuts and berries and seeds and all manner of fruits ripen and demand attention, but it’s all good on the home front, busy as we are.

My apples look good this year.

Another new morning --

Tree Guy has been at work!

I had wakened at a little after 1 a.m. on Wednesday and gone out to read on the porch so my reading light would not disturb Tree Guy’s well-earned sleep. Naturally, I fell asleep over Chinese Lives and woke again at 6 a.m. with 45 minutes of leisure to make coffee and read the first chapter of Adam Gopnik’s Paris to the Moon collection before it was time to drive garbage out to the highway for pickup. Oh, Adam Gopnik, you wonderful writer! How jealous I am of a friend’s sister who can count you among her friends!

Someone I knew years ago said of the French that they had an “ambivalent attitude” toward capitalism. Well, like most European countries, the French have a mixed economy, part-capitalism, part-socialism. Gopnik notes an interesting attitude—is it only American, or do the French share this illusion?

We surf the waves of capitalism, from crest to trough and back again, but the funny thing is that no matter how often we ride the wave, nobody notices that it’s wet. When we are on the crest, we believe that we have climbed a mountain through our own virtuous efforts, and when we are in the trough, we believe that we have fallen into a pit through our own vice. 

    - Adam Gopnik, Paris to the Moon 

Economics aside, like Gopnik, I had visions of Paris in my head for years before I ever reached the real earthly city. My father had been there in 1945, following the Liberation, and had seen and heard Piaf in a little club and there, also, over drinks, had discussed Racine with Frenchmen, relying on his high school French, and I later learned French phrases from my father long before studying the language myself in high school, so, as Gopnik puts it:

My head was filled with pictures of Paris, mostly black and white, and I wanted to be in them.

And so on Wednesday morning, driving out to the highway to place two bags of garbage carefully at the side of the road for pickup (two because I hadn’t put out any for three or four weeks), I smiled both at the crowing of the rooster across the road (remembering a rooster across the street when we lived in Leland in the 1990s and the same sound at my maternal grandparents’ Ohio country home in the 1950s) and at the thought, as the pre-sunrise sky painted itself gold and vividly coral and crimson, that it was already afternoon in Paris. I was happy, smiling at the crowing of a rooster and the beautiful predawn sky and my memories of being in Paris and my good fortune, now, of living where I live, with a man who suits me so well and a dog, as the man notes, “even luckier than we are,” with absolutely no worries and “two people who adore her!” 

The pensive look is just her patient face.

The promised new book has arrived!

I have both hardcover and paperback copies of Beyond the National Parks In All 50 States, by Ren Brabanec and Joel Anderson, a production of the Anderson Design Group. Ren, the son of Leelanau’s own organic orchardists John and Julia Brabanec (both now gone and very much missed) came by the shop to show me a copy of the book, and I've been eager to have it here for my customers. Copies arrived on Tuesday, the first day of September. What a good way to begin one of my favorite months!

hardcover or paperback are equally beautiful.

Beyond the National Parks introduces readers to parks that may have been under their radar before. Here in Leelanau we all know about Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore (doesn’t the whole country know about it by now, with all the publicity it has gotten from coast to coast?), but if you’ve not yet been to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula you might not know about the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore or the Keweenaw National Historical Park. And how about southeast Michigan’s River Raisin National Battlefield Park? I didn't know about that one.

(The River Raisin mention makes me wonder yet again why neither the Raisin nor the St. Joseph River were included in the justly famous “Rivers of America” series, which includes no Michigan rivers! But I digress….)

The cover of the new book notes that it includes “original poster art by Anderson Design Group,” and I must say the art is nothing short of spectacular. Full-page color illustrations introducing each state’s featured parks, reminiscent of classic 1930s travel poster style, are gorgeous! So come in, pick up a copy for your cottage or downstate (or even out-of-state) home, and fuel your travel dreams.

Showcasing a few older books, too --

Possibly "new" to you, eh?

Usually I have only new books on the front tables but decided on Wednesday to give the round table over to used books for a change. After all, previously owned and loved titles are still the bulk of my inventory, and they deserve a turn up front. 

One life is not enough! We can read others!

The cart by the front window also holds used books, from Cat-Who and Alexander McCall Smith cozy mysteries to lots of rock-’n’-roll from the Sixties forward.

Cart of gently used books

Film crew in bookshop!

Thursday, September 3, was a little different at Dog Ears Books. A crew arrived and set up to film a short scene for an independent film being made largely in Leelanau County. One of the producers is the son of an author friend, which is how my shop became a small part of the larger project. 

It was fascinating to watch the process—to see how many people were involved, how much equipment, how much time, for what I judged to be less than a minute of footage! The same crew was at the farmers market this morning, and people have mentioned spotting them along the Lake Michigan shoreline. Here are a few more of my amateur shots of the scene on Waukazoo Street.

Setting up

In process

The wrap

Losses noted this week

Wendell Berry of Port Royal, Kentucky

Gloria Steinem of New York, New York

Hugh Willey of Northport, Michigan

Rest in peace. You will be sorely missed!

Longer break coming up --

I’ll be gone next week, heading north again for—how long? Not more than a week, I’m guessing, and to make up in advance for being gone at all, I’ll be open most of Labor Day Monday, for those pausing on their way home or arriving to begin their September vacation.

"But you're already up north!" "I go farther north!"

Is Spring in the Bag at Last?

Daffodils are in bloom and wild leeks aplenty pushing up underfoot in the woods. Sandhill cranes are back from winters in the sunny South, announcing their presence vocally in Leelanau (so far overhead that I haven’t had a glimpse of them yet, but they’re definitely here). Only last week we had another big snow, and it could always snow again; however, the air feels as if the season has turned the corner at last, not teasingly but sincerely. We shall see. I’m enjoying the increasing hours of sunlight, anyway.

 

Sunny Juliet and I have not yet resumed our agility work, except on an ad hoc basis in the woods, where a large fallen tree is an opportunity for her to “Walk it!” and “Table!” the signal for her to jump up on a stump. She is very happy, though, to have a new neighbor playmate and to tear around with Griffin while humans stand by and supervise. “A tired dog is a happy dog,” we tell each other contentedly. Then, “Watch out! Not right under our feet!”

[No new photos because their play date last night was cancelled.]

 

School is back in session in Northport following spring break, families back from their self-prescribed “cabin fever” vacations, and summer people returning to open houses and cottages for the nonwinter months. The annual migration holds once again, for cranes and humans alike.

 

One question bedeviling me occurred to a couple of friends, also, I learned when I mentioned it. We are struck by the number of fallen trees in the woods. It almost seems that there are as many big old trees lying on the ground, horizontal or nearly so, as there are upright specimens. Is this a misperception, or can it be true? And, if true, did the northern Michigan woods always have this appearance in the spring (and we are only now noticing), or has there been a recent massive die-off? Are all the fallen individuals perhaps ash trees and beeches, victims of recent pest invasions? Bottom line: Has the woods looked as it does now ever since county residents abandoned woodstoves for furnaces – or not?

Is there a forester out there with an answer to this question?

 

Three different people sent me the link to a story in The Washington Post (if you are not a subscriber, maybe a friend who is will gift you the article) about bookshops specializing in books that have been around the block before, and I appreciated most of the advice given in the article: Take your time; have a spirit of adventure; don’t crow to the owner when you find a book marked at a fraction of its value (just buy it and be happy, I say); look at the books and not at your handheld device. I loved the remark about small shops tending to be “zealously curated,” and I wanted to cheer at “Try never to leave a bookstore without making a purchase, if only a used paperback. It is the least you can do to support these defenders and bastions of civilization.” (Is that what I am? Not such small potatoes, then!) I was not as thrilled by “Bring a flashlight and expect to get dirty.” You wouldn’t want to eat off the floor of my shop, but then, it isn’t a restaurant, is it? 

In Northport, in addition to reorganizing subject areas in the bookstore recently to make room for new arrivals, I’ve also been planning for the future. Here are a few important days coming up on my calendar, which I urge you to put on your calendar, too:

 

Monday, April 22. Earth Day

 

Saturday, April 27. Indie Bookstore Day

 

Saturday, June 22. Visit to Dog Ears Books by author Bonnie Jo Campbell

 

In honor of the Earth Day 2024 theme, “Planet vs. Plastics,” and as a belated brag on 2023’s 30^th anniversary of Dog Ears Books, I will be offering beautiful new canvas book bags ($12), which will be no less appropriate on Indie Bookstore Day (always the last Saturday in April, and this year I’ll be here!) and perfect for carrying home your signed copy of Bonnie Jo Campbell’s new novel, The Waters -- plus, of course, any other treasures you find in my “zealously curated” collection on Waukazoo Street!

As we were in 2011 --

Report From the Field #2: Book Stop, Tucson

I'm calling this report #2 only because it never occurred to me before to label my visits to other people’s bookstores as field reports. How many posts have I written on indie bookstores, not only in Michigan but between Michigan and Florida and then from Michigan to Arizona and back, in the 12-1/2 years of Books in Northport? I’m not going to go back and count, but it’s one of the things I do during my months of “seasonal retirement” when I’m away from my own bookstore in Northport, Michigan. 

When the Artist and I go to Tucson, venturing 100 miles west on expressway from our winter rental cabin, because we do it so rarely we always have an agenda; however, we never accomplish much of the items on our list, and the most recent day trip was no exception. New exhibit at the art museum, a couple of bookstores, a new Chinese restaurant, and maybe the camera shop, if time permitted: Those were our goals. Result: We got to one bookstore. But the bookstore was all I hoped it would be, as you will see if you bear with me until we get to that part of the story. First, though, I’m very sorry not to have more photographs of the early part of the day, because after deciding to circle around more of the city and take the Speedway exit, we were seduced by one that came before, as it sounded like it would take us more quickly to 4th Avenue. It did not. We found 4th Avenue easily and enjoyed cruising north on it through South Tucson, where brightly painted buildings, murals, and colorful tiles reminded me of my trip a couple years ago to the Yucatan. So beautiful and exciting! Another time I’ll employ my camera, but sometimes it just feels more important to be in the moment, not worrying about capturing the present for future rumination. And I was loving 4th Avenue!

Just as it seemed we must be nearing our goal, however, we were unceremoniously dumped off 4th Avenue and hurried onto the new and “improved” Broadway, a wide, swooping road that will no doubt be great for high-speed traffic (for those who want that) when it’s finished. At present, however, it is not finished, so we were not only routed way off our desired path but stuck for what seemed ages in stop-and-go-and-stop traffic, which is never any fun at all.

Finally getting off the nightmare road and into what felt like a reasonable grid of streets, we somehow found ourselves caught up in the University of Arizona campus — which, in case you are not familiar with it, is an enormous campus — so that finally coming out on Speedway Boulevard, a long, busy street often avoided by locals but one that serves very well to orient us country mice, was a huge relief. From there we found the end of 4th Avenue we wanted and persevered until arriving, at long last, at the 100N block. 

At last!

Tip to other visitors to Tucson: If you’re looking for the Book Stop on 4th Avenue, or for Antigone Books (which we will visit on another field trip), take the Speedway exit. From Speedway you’ll turn south (right) and have an easy time locating the bookstores. 

[Speedway Boulevard: 1st degree of relief…  

4th Avenue North: 2nd degree of relief…  

Parking space around the corner from Book Stop: complete relief!]

My camera work inside the bookstore was hurried, at best. I wanted to look at books! But you can probably see from these quick shots that the Book Stop was exactly the kind of bookstore I had been hoping to find.

Tina, the proprietor, was quietly welcoming, friendly and helpful without being in the least overbearing or hovering. Like her bookstore, she was just right. I found five books to buy that day, took a few pictures, shared with Tina my own bookstore connection, and received information from her about the store’s buying and trade policies. I also told her how much effort had gone into our getting to her store, and it was she who recommended the Speedway exit (so you have it from a local and don’t have to take my word alone for it).

Thank you, Tina!

In its own way, 4th Avenue North is as colorful as the stretch south of Broadway, but in a different way. It has no dominant ethnic tone but more of a 1960s hippie dream quality, as perhaps you can see from these photos I snapped from the car window. 

We will be returning to Tucson next week, when I will attend the mammoth Festival of Books on the UA campus with a friend. The plan is that her husband will drop us off for the day. Hooray! We won’t have to drive or park -- or dodge around bicycles and streetcars! 

Streetcars, really, on 4th Avenue!

So that will be another travel adventure and field report from the world of books, Southwest style, coming up soon.

Just Call Me a Greedy Little Kid

ruins of old hotel in Dos Cabezas

Just as it never had a church, it’s probably a good bet that, even at the height of the copper mining rush, Dos Cabezas never had a public library. No doubt the mine owner had a few books in the lodge where he entertained potential investors. (I'll have to ask Dorothy.) Surely he would have maps. But the height of the Dos Cabezas population was long ago.

modern library in Willcox

These days there is a good little public library in Willcox, however, the major town back up the highway about 15 miles, and the Friends of the Library group runs a little shop selling donated used books near the area museums. The Artist and I patronize both the library and Friendly Bookstore on a regular basis during our winters here. 

little bookstore in Willcox

But we have always, since long before we met, needed our own private collections of books, too.

My background in books: 

I grew up in a modest and frugal household. My parents were both readers and lovers of poetry and opera, but they were also budget- and savings-minded, and while we did not want for necessities, luxury played no part in our life. Summer vacations, until I was 12 years old and we borrowed an old canvas umbrella tent and began camping in Michigan, were two weeks of visits to grandparents back in Ohio, one week with my father’s father and stepmother, the other with my mother’s mother and stepfather. So as you might guess, the books we read were, for the most part, library books.

When I was in grade school, my class visited our tiny school library on Tuesdays and the bookmobile on Thursdays. Saturday was the big day of the week: a family visit to the grand public library downtown, where decades later I was able to give my husband a complete tour of the holdings of the now-empty former children’s book room, guiding him around the floor as if shelves and books were still in place, telling him, “This is where the Doctor Seuss books were. I discovered them for myself…. Back in this corner were the horse books [Justin Morgan Had a Horse]…. Over in this corner were biographies [Helen Keller’s was the autobiography I read with interest], and here … was Parents Keep Out, by Ogden Nash!”

My sisters and I were permitted to order a few inexpensive paperback Scholastic books when school presented that opportunity, but otherwise, and for beautiful, coveted hardcover books, we had to wait for Christmas and birthdays. On those special occasions, we might hope for one special book apiece. I still remember the year I found Marguerite Henry’s Black Gold under the tree. Santa’s presents to us were as modest as those from family members, but I have never forgotten the sight of that beautiful book waiting for me on Christmas morning.

Why did we only know new books and library books? Had I grown up in Chicago, no doubt I would have discovered used books earlier in life, but I don’t think we knew any shops in Will County that sold used books. Even garage sales were unknown in our edge-of-town 1950s neighborhood (although vacant lots we had aplenty, and what do children do without vacant lots?) Anyway, we were not shopping children. Penny candy and five-cent candy bars exhausted our tiny allowances, and climbing trees, digging holes, and building “forts” with old cardboard refrigerator boxes were more our speed than stores full of merchandise. The first shopping mall lay yet in the future. 

— But books! There were never enough in our house! And we only had a single bathroom for five people! My father called it “the library,” and a frequent plaintive cry from the other side of the door was, “Are you reading in there?”

As a teenaged babysitter, I was dismayed by the lack of books in the neighborhood homes that employed me. One house had only TV Guide for reading material, nothing more! I learned quickly that if I wanted the pleasure of reading after my charges went to sleep, I would have to take my own library books on those babysitting jobs. 

Eventually I did discover — in Urbana, Illinois; East Lansing, Michigan; Kalamazoo, Michigan; etc. — bookshops specializing in used books, and that allowed me to begin assembling a (still modest) private library, an eclectic collection of books that has transformed many times in size and content over the decades, sometimes shrinking (with a move), usually growing, and always taking new turns with new interests. 

My books waited for me!

Bookcase #2

So now, though we are only in a small rented cabin for the winter, with space at a premium, it would not feel like home without our own books in it. Happily, shelves of books accumulated over the past two winters greeted us upon arrival this month, and so it did feel like home when we walked in the door. The waiting books welcomed us (as books do) and even seemed to welcome the new additions we had picked up along the road.

Nature reference

Southwestern history and life

A few cookbooks

Yippee!

On our third evening here in the ghost town, when dark descended early, I suggested to the Artist that I could read aloud to him before we went to bed. We often read aloud to each in bed, but it’s easy then for the listener to fall asleep, so we agreed to try it sitting up in our daytime reading chairs. The first book we tried, despite an intriguing title, didn’t work out too well (“You lost me in the first paragraph”), but our happy second mutual choice was Julia Child’s My Life in France. What enchanting, contagious enthusiasm that Julia had, even in her nineties, looking back on the best time of her life! As Paris is also the magic world city for us, and we could picture clearly the scenes described in the book, it was the perfect book for a dark high desert evening’s dreaming.

It feels luxurious to have choices and variety at hand when we want a change of focus, and as a kid who grew up in a house where we had enough of what we needed but never a lot of what we loved, I love my little ghost town private library! It makes me feel that I live here, that I'm part of the place, and it makes me feel rich. You know all those commercials you hear about "growing" your "wealth"? This is mine.

Sarah likes the book corner, too. The photo here is from 2018, but she is gravitating to the library again this year.