The Folded Leaf: A Dream Embraced by Community Connection
By Rachel Zemanek
Sun contributor
Zemanek owns The Folded Leaf, which opened its doors this Spring in Cedar. Together, with Liz Neddo, owner of Bee Well, and niche jeweler Dana C. Fear, a creative community built on connection was formed. Now, their survival in the town they call home is at risk, following building inspections and a notice that gatherings are not allowed unless the entire building officially changes use.
When the snow falls on a crisp winter day, the silence and peace are something of a fairytale. The noise of the world is absorbed by the gentle flakes floating around my chilled cheeks as they land softly on the ground I call home. Taking a deep breath fills my lungs with air so clean that I forget the suffocating pressure of society.
It’s the same when I step through the door of The Folded Leaf. The books absorb the noise and instead reflect millions of stories of fantastical worlds or treasured pasts. The air smells of well-loved pages and hope for the future through literacy and community.
The Folded Leaf was built as a haven to learn, grow, rest, and be exactly who you are. You can sit and read Wuthering Heights or Calvin and Hobbes. You can flip through a magazine, discover new artists, or sit in the Snuggery and stare at the fireplace. It’s a space to exist without having to explain yourself.
This is the kind of freedom that can only be found in a special place, a third space, if you will.
Growing up in Leelanau County, I felt a void in community. I didn’t really know that any space to fill that gap existed in the world. But I knew I needed something else, a place to be myself without the Midwestern guilt that had been repeatedly placed on my young shoulders. I also knew that I wasn’t alone in that feeling. Without realizing it, this became my mission in life.
Over my 34 years, I’ve attempted to build that space around me as a journalist, massage therapist, firefighter, Paramedic, and just about every job in between. Nothing ever felt quite right. The closest I came was working as a Paramedic. Although I wasn’t providing a physical space to feel loved, I tried to be that space to every patient I interacted with. It wasn’t until that career came to a screeching and painful halt that I knew something had to shift. I had to stop trying to find that space in a job. I had to create it for myself.
The space I needed when I was a kid came into existence in a whirlwind of happenstance. Whether it was fate, God, or the Universe weaving all the pieces together, The Folded Leaf materialized in my hometown through sheer dedication to the mission I had committed to. What I didn’t expect in all of this was that, although my name is listed as the Owner, the space’s ownership would belong to the community.
There have been many tears shed, celebrations held, and dreams shared in that 1,100-square-foot space since April 26, 2025. To see it threatened is a pain I hadn’t realized existed. While the future of TFL’s location remains uncertain, there is one thing I know to be fact. The spirit and necessity of The Folded Leaf will not die. It will live on as we grow in community and love. I have realized that it’s not the four walls that make a community; it’s the energy, grace, joy, peace, and the realization that, together, we are each other’s third space.
Whatever the future holds, it is bright. The mystical and fantastical power of a bookshop can be found every time you open a story. Breathe it in and believe that a better world is possible. Trust in the story and know that our ending is a happy one because we have come together and created a community that cares in a way none of us knew was possible.
The Folded Leaf is yours, my dear community. Wherever it goes, so do you.
