For women in particular, art has long been a vehicle for confronting gendered, social, or political marginalization. Across generations, women have used storytelling, language, the body, performance, and self-representation to make experiences previously overlooked visible. That art resonates in present-day America—a time marked by rising authoritarianism, assaults on reproductive rights, threats to LGBTQ+ communities, pervasive gun violence, environmental instability, the humanitarian crisis surrounding migration, and now, an escalating global conflict in the Middle East. This tradition of female conscience persists today, urgent and uncompromising, manifest in the work of a cohort of women artists here in northern Michigan, presented in the exhibition “We Will Not Whisper” which is on display at the Alluvion in Traverse City until April 11.

It’s that time of year again as many in northern Michigan, including here in Leelanau County, begin tapping the maple trees to reap their golden harvest. As Old Man Winter fades, maple trees offer us the first gift of the season—a pure, golden sap which through lots of hard work is transformed into the rich, sweet syrup beloved by many. The 2025, U.S. maple syrup industry produced 5.7 million gallons according to the USDA statistics service. Tapping Maple trees for their sap began long before Europeans settled in America. Early origins of maple sugaring are preserved in oral traditions of Anishinaabeg and other tribes of northern Michigan and northeastern North America. The Anishinaabe people began the deep connection to the tradition and referred to the season as Ziinzibaakwadoke Giizis (Sugar Moon). “We are celebrating a tradition that started with indigenous groups in the American Northeast and Great Lakes that included the Anishinaabe,” said William Derouin, Agricultural Manager at the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians. This program has grown to include the GTB Sugarbush camp, which will be held in Peshawbestown on March 13-14 and March 20-21.

Join Jess Piskor and Inland Seas Education Association on Tuesday, March 3, at 10 am, for a presentation and discussion of his work on Passenger Pigeons and Beech Trees. Piskor will offer a one-of-a-kind love letter to these two surprisingly interrelated species. One hundred and fifty years ago, Northern Michigan’s hardwood forests were full of Beech Trees, and the skies darkened with Passenger Pigeons. Now the birds are extinct, and the beeches are threatened with disease. Learn about their connection to each other, and come away with a greater appreciation for the great trees still in our midst.

For the past three years, David Weeks has searched for a young farmer to take over his organic vegetable farm, La Casa Verde, in Cedar. But, so far, he hasn’t found a buyer who intends to keep the property as a working farm. “I strongly want to see this property remain in agriculture and remain a part of the resilient Michigan community and economy,” he said. “The last thing I want is for this property to get bought by some gazillionaire and they knock down the old buildings and build an estate house, and they’re there two weeks out of the year.” In October, Weeks began advertising his farm on MIFarmLink, a new program that helps match aspiring farmers with those looking to retire and hand their operations over to the next generation. One goal of MIFarmLink is to ensure farmland remains farmland amid a push by big developers to convert rural properties to data centers, solar or wind farms, housing, and other projects.

Remembering a near-death experience on frozen Lake Michigan. It was Super Bowl Sunday of 1984, and the carefree 15-year-old girls wanted to find ice caves. Karen Gros and Bobbi Boos, students at the Leelanau School north of Glen Arbor, walked onto frozen Sleeping Bear Bay in search of tunnels and mammoth formations they expected to find on Lake Michigan. The girls suddenly found themselves on a chunk of ice that broke off from the pack and began floating away from the shore. Suddenly, the ice on which they stood began to disintegrate into smaller chunks.

John Arens reflects on the coffee company—and Glen Arbor mainstay—he and his brother Steve launched 33 years ago. They sold the company early this year to Grand Rapids-based Schuil Coffee Co. Leelanau Coffee opened in 1992 on Lake Street, sharing a 500-square-foot space with another startup called Cherry Republic.

Thirty-three years after two brothers started the locally loved—and widely recognized—Leelanau Coffee Roasting Co., they sold it.  The acquisition officially took place on New Year’s Day when Grand Rapids-based Schuil Coffee Co. took it over.  Like Leelanau Coffee, Schuil is a specialty, Michigan-based roaster that’s withstood the test of time. In fact, when Garry and Gladys Schuil started the company in 1981, it became the first specialty coffee roaster in the state. Inside the Glen Arbor cafe, things feel unchanged.  “Right now, it’s business as usual and will be for the foreseeable future,” said Mara Miller, the cafe’s manager and one of its longest working employees.

The Leelanau Historical Society, in partnership with Here:Say Storytelling, will present Meet Me at the Loaf: A Celebration of Sugar Loaf in Stories. The Jan. 29 event at Solon Township Hall near Cedar will feature memories and voices connected to one of Leelanau County’s most beloved landmarks: Sugar Loaf Mountain. Doors open at 5:30 pm, offering guests the chance to reconnect with old friends, neighbors, and fellow “Sugar Loafers.” The storytelling program begins at 6:30.

This reflection on a nocturnal Alligator Hill ski was first published in our Winter 2000 edition. The alligator’s new look, following the Aug. 2, 2015, storm, prompted us to revisit these words.

One man returns home in his pickup truck from his job managing a fruit processing plant near Empire to greet his children as they step off the yellow school bus. Another shares a homemade dinner with his wife and kids, then naps before working the nightshift in the radiology unit at Munson Medical Center. A third man retreats upstairs and uses a hand-me-down sewing machine to mend a customer’s torn Christmas stocking—his side gig to make extra money for his family after he works daytime hours at Spectrum. These could be the stories of any hard-working men in Leelanau County. In fact, they represent the everyday rituals of three Afghan refugees who worked with the U.S. military and then fled for their safety after the Taliban took Kabul and seized power four years ago.