It’s a cool fall morning in Grand Junction, Colorado. The sun has just started to warm the sandstone walls of the Colorado National Monument, highlighting the shimmer of the Wingate embedded within and revealing the layers of geological time carved by water and wind. The shadows shrink away, and the soft, melodic sound of a flute drifts on the breeze. The source of this woodwind accompaniment? None other than Greg Dillon playing one of his many handmade flutes.

Dillon began crafting these flutes when his wife, Jean Dillon, brought a Native American type flute home from a trip to Arizona. Dillon, who was a trumpet player and avid woodworker, decided he wanted to make one. “Curiosity is always coming after me,” Dillon laughs.

The flutes are identified by a two-chamber design, making them Native American type flutes. Dillon emphasizes “type” to stress that, although this style of flute was pioneered by the Native Americans, the construction and playing of the flute itself varies based on factors such as geographic locations, culture, language group and intended purpose.

The construction process involves a careful selection of wood, from forests or lumber yards, with a grain pattern that appeals to Dillion. “The sound varies based on the type of wood,” he explains.

Then, it’s off to his garage woodshop for the construction. The flutes are made by adhering two halves, each with their carved chambers, then, a tuning process of discovering the base note and drilling the holes at predetermined intervals. To finish the design, Dillon carves a fetish for the top — a small wooden figurine based on “whatever is in my mind at the moment.”

For Dillon, crafting and playing these flutes is a way to connect both hobby and history. Dillon grew up in Cortez and witnessed the unavoidable collision of cultures at the hands of assimilation. Much of it wasn’t positive.

“The Native American people got screwed,” Dillon says, somberly. “They really did.” However, Dillon also witnessed many instances of the persistence of Native American culture and was both humbled and inspired by it.

Although the history and heritage of these flutes is ambiguous — likely as a result of the forced removal of the Native American peoples and the subsequent destruction of belongings — Dillon enjoys bringing to life what history is known through the music and information he shares while playing on the Colorado National Monument, a place that was originally home to Ute peoples.

“I come up here to play to the rocks,” Dillon says. “I just play whatever comes to me, and it reverberates perfectly off the canyon walls. It’s very relaxing.”

It’s also a way for Dillon to remain connected to the community. “It’s become how I practice being outgoing and friendly,” he says. He plays not only for his own enjoyment, but the joy of others.

Dillon has countless stories of the flute music inspiring passers-by on the Colorado National Monument to do everything from dance to cry. He always ensures that there’s some history involved in the presentation, and maybe a joke or two.

To grandson Asher Lummis, it’s a hobby Dillon picked up to fill the space in retirement left by Dillon’s former workaholic lifestyle as an architect. “I think he’s a little restless,” Lummis laughs

There may be something to this. Jean Dillon recounts times when he would go to work early in the morning, come home for dinner at around 5 p.m., then go back to work until 3 a.m. Now, Dillon is free to devote his time and energy to less stressful endeavors, like sharing the music and the history of the flutes with all who wish to hear it.

What started as a challenge has become a passion project to be shared with many. Although Dillon often plays to the open air, his most diligent audience (by choice or design) is his wife Jean. She displays a flute her husband made for her with an inlay of needlepoint turquoise. “This was my mother’s jewelry,” she explains. “It’s one earring from a set.”

And, when Dillon shares that one of his greatest moments of joy is hearing strangers say he made their day, Jean jumps in. “I tell you that you made my day all the time!” she exclaims. “Oh well. I’m old hat, I guess.”

Dillon shakes his head in mock dismay. “So am I,” he says. Then, acting as if this is a realization that has just occurred to him, he adds, “What the hell?”

Despite Dillon’s assessment, the critics seem to disagree. Family members and friends welcome the impromptu concerts, and even Jasper — the family dog of Dillion’s daughter, Kristen — is enchanted by the flute playing and has been known to come sit at Dillon’s feet with perked ears, listening to the soothing notes.

Originally published in the Winter 2021-22 issue of Spoke+Blossom.

"Rock" Music