The signs of the season are all around us. Lit up Christmas trees, off-key carolers, wreaths hanging on every door and everyone wearing red Santa hats show that we are firmly entrenched in the holiday season, and the only way we’re going to get out alive is to show a little cheer—or drink a barrel of egg nog. I can never remember how that works.

Christmas is definitely my favorite time of the year. I think it helped that I lived in a community that bordered Arizona’s official Christmas City—Prescott. There were two holiday parades, one during the day and one at night. Christmas shows would dominate all the local theaters, and decorations were all over the place in the downtown area. Also, if you claimed you couldn’t find the courthouse, you were a big liar, as the plaza was decked in thousands of lights and decorations.

However, one of my favorite things about Christmas in Prescott was the World’s Largest Gingerbread Village. I don’t know if there’s any truth about that boast, but what I do know is that, high above the city in the lobby of the Prescott Resort, there would be hundreds of gingerbread houses and other buildings that filled the way creating a tiny community within the larger community.

I was never known for making gingerbread houses with my family, but I was always in awe of the people who took time out to craft such elaborate structures. When I first discovered the village, I was going to community college, but I wasn’t driving yet, so I would hop the bus and ride up to check out what new items were part of the tastiest place on Earth.

This wasn’t just homemade creations. You had chefs from local restaurants making things like the Loonyville Manor. You had chefs from down in the Phoenix area teaming up with morning television personalities building weird concoctions with gingerbread and all other assortments of foodstuffs. High school home economics classes would enter items. Local churches would send gingerbread churches or contribute in other ways. One year, the local gay pride center contributed a candy rainbow bridge.

Arks, adobe structures, Santa’s workshop—anything you could imagine was given form and part of the village. I was surprised they didn’t have security there in case some little brat with a sweet tooth decided to do his Godzilla imitation and eat the village to the ground.

There was also a contest to see who could build the best cottage, bungalow or estate. Besides the buildings themselves, you’d see an assortment of blue, red and white ribbons plopped next to some tasty entries to show you where the really good stuff was. However, I would find plenty of cool items that didn’t have ribbons attached to them. You could easily wile away an afternoon or evening looking at the ingenuity, originality and creativity.

Of course, what really made the village come alive was the train. No, someone didn’t create a gingerbread train. I’m talking about an actual model train traveling on yards of track around the various structures, occasionally disappearing behind mounds of cotton meaning to be snow and then magically appearing again with the toot-toot of the horn. Watching the train was almost as much fun as oohing and aahing over the gingerbread.

While I’m happy living in Wisconsin, this is the time of year that I miss Arizona and it’s ever-burning Christmas spirit. While Wisconsin has plenty of holiday activities to keep us maintain some goodwill, Prescott really knew how to throw a party, and the World’s Largest Gingerbread Village is just one of its crowning achievements. It’s in its 28^th year now, and not even the pandemic is deterring it, apparently.

I’ve often thought about establishing something like the gingerbread village in Wisconsin, just to have a taste of home again, so to speak. The problem is that I live in a city where there aren’t huge lodging facilities like the Prescott Resort, and any event centers would require a 35- to 45-minute drive to Green Bay or Appleton. Having the gingerbread village is out of the question, as the first snowfall would turn the gingerbread into a mushy mess.

I’m still tempted to broach the subject with somebody in the city. After all, we wouldn’t have to take the title of World’s Largest Gingerbread Village away from Prescott—that would probably get me banned from Arizona permanently. However, some kind of community structure with the smell of gingerbread would help to boost some spirits here in Wisconsin and be another reminder of the reason for the season.

Yummy treats. The reason for the season is yummy treats. That is all.