STRAY 01.2 by pawsupcollection

01.2

S T R

design adventure food wilderness

As flakes float through the air like bits of down from a fluffy pillow, it marks our first winter at the green o. We’ve been anticipating this moment for quite some time because, as enchanting as this pine-forested hillside is, it’s ever more beautiful when blanketed in white.

Boughs bend under the weight of fallen snow

Soon, guests nestled in soft linen sheets will open their eyes to discover snow falling in every direction. After all, it’s one thing to view Montana’s raw wilderness from a distance, but quite another to be so intimately tucked inside a woodland hideaway.

a s i f t o s a y, “ We l c o m e ! ”

So, in this, our second issue of Stray, we share the ethos behind our secluded resort. We showcase the people who inspire us through the unique lens of design, adventure, food and wilderness. We’re featuring the charred cedar shou sugi ban finishes we love, as well as fashionforward skiwear that keeps us cozy. We applaud the work of a conservationist who tracks wolves and helps us understand humanity just a little bit better in the process. We’re thrilled to report, the joys of outdoor dining have been rediscovered elsewhere. We highlight chefs who forage for local ingredients— mushrooms, wild mint, ramps—that bring the “terroir” of a place to the plate. We profile the Hiyu Wine Farm in Hood River, Oregon, which similarly honors the local bounty from its farm. For those interested a winter road trip starting at Glacier National Park, we introduce you to quaint stops on the way to Greenough—from the National Bison Range to local creameries. And if the point of your getaway is simple relaxation, we show you how nature is the best prescription for wellness, healing, sleep and calm. Like the soaring windows that grace our 12 Haus accommodations, we hope Stray Winter 2021–2022 gives you an up close look at the things that stir our souls.

Jeff Severini Manager the green o

Shou sugi ban emerged as a practical weatherproofing technique in 18th-century Japan and has resurfaced in modern design as an eco-friendly approach to protecting new construction. Using planks of light, porous wood like cedar or basswood, the process involves a steady, even burning of the surface until the wood turns black with soot (a basic blowtorch will do the trick). From there, the char is brushed off with a wire brush, exposing an intricate, raw layer of the wood grain. After a good cleaning and a few rounds of oiling, the wood is effectively sealed, ready to withstand a full decade outdoors before re-oiling. When applied to furniture for indoor use, the wood will keep indefinitely.

A H OT N E W D E S I G N T R E N D

T H AT ' S H E R E T O

Like most everything at the green o, selecting a local source to produce shou sugi ban wood for the Social Haus and the Tree Hauses was a choice based as much on sustainability as beauty. The finish makes it difficult for bugs or moisture to penetrate. It’s also a way to avoid using stains. The end result is one of organic beauty that’s literally ingrained in the elements—just like the surrounding nature itself.

S T A Y

FIRE

& Yo u d o n ’ t h a v e t o k n o w w h a t s h o u s u g i b a n means to appreciate the unique aesthetic to

the

technique

charring

lumber

to seal it from the elements, leaving a stunning , hardy tex ture that ’s fit for even the toughest Montana winters.

But what an off-season it is, especially in Montana. When the snow starts falling, these adrenaline lovers are ready to revel in the environment they work so hard to protect. No wonder they call themselves hotshots. Unlike during fire season, “in the winter, I decide when, where or how to be outside,” says Squad Leader Charlie Palermo. That means setting his own personal goals for distance, time or speed. He takes every opportunity to go cross-country skiing, hiking, mountain biking and trail running. He also practices yoga. “A lot of the time I’m alone (my version of meditation) or I’m with my family exploring and just enjoying life.” Megan Nolte, a senior firefighter with the Helena Interagency Hotshot Crew, shares his sense of adventure. “In Helena, there’s the whole South Hills trail network that’s right outside town,” she says. “Depending on where you live, you can just walk to the trails and access public land.”

by Lauren Viera

it represents. The Japanese phrase refers

Wildland firefighters have it tough. Sixteen-hour workdays are not uncommon. Cutting fire lines and battling flames can be physically as well as mentally taxing. Crews need to maintain a high level of fitness, even during the off-season.

ICE

Come March, Palermo and Nolte will be back at work again: gone for 16 days, home for two and then ready to do it all over again. No doubt, they’ll enjoy every minute of Montana’s cold temperatures while they last.

C R E A T I N G A S C E N E: HOW OUTDOOR DINING

Though in the beginning, the structures were meant to simply offer protection from the elements, architect Lance Saunders of Stokes Architecture & Design says, as time went on, his team started making them more refined. Stokes has designed a host of streeteries in Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., adding practical details like covered heating ducts and lighting, as well as a raft of purely aesthetic touches. There are windows, lush greenery and pendulous chandeliers, each element contributing to a charming, novel dining experience. Patrons and designers alike are hoping streeteries are here to stay. Saunders fell in love with outdoor dining culture after a trip to Montreal, where the city is awash in al fresco cafes. “It sort of happened naturally in Montreal—they’re a huge success, and whenever the weather is good, they’re all packed,” he says. “Hopefully they stick around, because it’s a nice addition to the city.”

IS CHANGING THE CITYSCAPE

by Regan Stephens Outside Sor Ynez, a vibrant Mexican restaurant north of the Center City neighborhood in Philadelphia, rectangular planters packed with succulents line the seating area, and strings of twinkling lights dangle from above. Tables, set under open-sided bungalows, are separated by gleaming aluminum partitions—each one, an intricately contrived work of art. The pieces are actually a by-product of artist Miguel Antonio Horn’s ContraFuerte sculpture. Sor Ynez owner Jill Weber had a vision for the cast-off plates that began with a conversation. “I was talking to [the artist] about our outdoor space and the insane cost of materials, and he offered scraps of half-inch metal he had from a project he is doing,” says Weber. “It really worked out perfectly,” she says, and now “we have an incredibly unique outdoor space.” Soon after the pandemic began, many in the restaurant industry turned to the relative safety of outdoor dining to keep business humming. In the beginning, tables and chairs were relocated from dining rooms to any open patch of sidewalk or parking lot, but as time went on, and so did the pandemic, restaurant operators started getting more creative with their spaces. Streeteries—or street eateries—emerged, with features that make the structures both functional and beautiful. In downtown Manhattan, situated between a bustling sidewalk and street, a wine bar envisioned by Paris-based design studio re-a.d includes wooden dining pavilions blanketed with plants and trees. And the sustainably minded pièce de résistance: a floral sculpture by artist Allison Newsome made of powder-coated steel that gathers rainwater for the garden below. Nearby, at French cafe La Mercerie, diners are surrounded by oversized planters, which also serve to safely divide the tables. At Zahav, the James Beard Awardwinning modern Israeli restaurant in Philadelphia, each group feasts on lamb shoulder and Turkish hummus from inside the comfort of a cozy, private yurt.

An entirely different vibe was created in Manhattan on the busy corner sidewalk outside NoHo’s acclaimed Lafayette café and bakery. “We leaned into the après ski/winter wonderland idea,” says NoHo Hospitality Group’s Senior Communications Manager Gabbie Reade, referring to the restaurant’s wintertime outdoor pop-up venue, Le Village de Lafayette. Inside each of their 12 exquisite outdoor chalets, diners are surrounded by warm, natural tones, soft glow lighting and alpaca furs. Special fireplace-style heaters offer a flickering charm. Passersby, she adds, “can peek in and watch diners sipping champagne and dining on fondue, while our guests have a fantastic New York City view throughout the course of the meal.”

TAKE TO THE SLOPES WITH A DOUBLEDIAMOND LOOK.

T H E T R E N D R E P O R T F O R S U B Z E R O W E AT H E R

After two truncated—if not dashed—ski seasons, it’s time to celebrate the return to the slopes. And what better way than with exuberant togs from off-the-beaten-path brands? These smallproduction labels put high fashion perfectly in line with high performance .

DISCOVER THE EFFORTLESS CHIC OF A LEGENDARY LABEL.

GO FOR A LAYERED LOOK WITH UNCOMPROMISING COMFORT.

DON DAPPER SNOWDRIFT-WORTHY DESIGNS.

Aztech Mountain is a performance sportswear company that’s rooted in skiing and defined in fashion. Founded by Marc Jacobs alum Heifera Rutgers with lead designer Casey Cadwallader, who doubles as creative director at Mugler, the brand marries high-fashion silhouettes with eco-friendly fabrication and serious technical details. The hero piece of their collection is the Nuke Suit, for both men and women. It’s a refined jacket (go bold with Orange Crush or Gonzo Tie-Dye) that can withstand temps of –10 ºC. For women, the cropped, liquid shine of their Snowbird Puffer Vest makes a statement onpiste or running errands.

Performance Ski in Aspen is a shop many consider the barometer of alpine cool. Owner Lee Keating revived heritage Italian ski brand Authier in 2010 and has made the colorful jackets with oversized zippers and whimsically printed interiors the focal point of her collection. Plaid shirts featuring vintage finished snaps and leather elbow patches are also a staple, along with universally flattering stretch ski pants that many women opt to wear on and off of the slopes.

Pro skiers know Ortovox for their high-tech emergency equipment, such as innovative avalanche transceivers. But the German brand is equally noted for its super-soft, moisture-wicking Tasmanian merino wool base layers. Best bets: the close-fitting 120 comp long-sleeve shirts and bottoms for men and women and their core-warming wool underpants: boxers for men and hot pants for women.

Founded upon the legacy of Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, Amundsen Sports melds Old World traditions into ruggedly stylish performance garments. The 5 Mila Jacket (for men and women) is streamlined and moisture-wicking. The weather-resistant Polartec softshell is reinforced with waxed cotton to protect against the elements. The weighty, Norwegian wool Heroes Turtleneck for men is inspired by what was worn during South Pole expeditions. The boiled hoodie is an ideal mid layer. Bonus points: Their eco-friendly designs are both recyclable and timeless.

How to outdo everyone else on the chairlift

GET THE GLAMOUR OF A SLIM AARONS SKI SCENE.

Imagine socialites schussing in Gstaad, sleekly attired aristocrats in St. Moritz, jet-setters sipping champagne on a sun-soaked deck in Verbier. If those are looks you love, then search no further than Cordova, a female-owned company known for body-hugging one-piece suits that channel the glitz of a bygone era. On top of a certain Bond Girl verve, their suits are crafted with fabric originally designed for NASA to lock in body heat. Also supremely flattering are the brand’s waterproof four-way stretch pants.

EXHIBIT ON-POINT STYLE WITH REVERENCE FOR THE PAST.

The Boston-based Alps & Meters believes that integrity is essential to its vintage-feeling brand, as evidenced by their partnerships with mills that value ethics and traditional craftsmanship. You’ll find sweaters like the men’s heavy-gauge lambswool High West Ski Race Knit, which pays homage to a classic Fair Isle as well as the men of the 10th Mountain Division during World War II. The graphics of the women’s groovy cashmere and wool Slalom Knit reference pioneering female ski racers, a la Penny Pitou and Gretchen Fraser. One essential unisex layering piece: the Cashmere Alpine Winter Collar.

FILL

THIS PRESCRIPTION

WITH A BREATH OF

FRESH AIR.

by Kelsey Ogletree

“GO O U T S I D E !”

That phrase your parents told you, and that you probably repeat to your own kids, has more merit than you might expect. Getting out in nature has so many benefits to your mental and physical health, recent studies show, that therapists are prescribing time in nature to patients as part of treatment plans, especially during the pandemic. Nature therapy, ecotherapy or green therapy, as it’s known, encourages people to go out and spend time in green spaces, says Angela Basso, a licensed mental health counselor at Thriveworks in Tampa, Florida. “There is a part of being human that is so connected to nature that we’re just drawn there,” she says. Going outdoors in nature, whether you’re in a remote forest or a park in a city, has benefits to your mood. It can reduce negative emotions and anxiety and potentially boost your positive emotions, like awe and fascination, says Dr. Lisa Nisbet, an associate professor of psychology at Trent University in Ontario. Nature can also take us out of our own mindset, improve our attention span, increase our awareness and help us concentrate better after a break. Immersing ourselves in the natural world, with animals and plants, at its core, helps us to feel more alive, Nisbet adds. Physically, exposure to nature can lessen your stress response and even help to boost your immune system. It may seem more challenging to get outside in winter (and take a bit more time to get dressed for it), but cold months have advantages: Recreational areas are typically less crowded, and trying

activities like snowshoeing or cross-country skiing can enable you to explore places you can’t reach as easily during summer months. There’s also a bit of mystery in winter after a snow, in exploring animal tracks and breathing in the crisp, clean air— especially in Montana. Even in winter, “No one’s ever came back from a walk outdoors and said, ‘I wish I hadn’t gone outside,’” says Nisbet. Bring someone else along, and nature is twice as good. Try building a snow fort, tracking wildlife, watching birds, riding a snowmobile, going dogsledding or taking a hike. “You can even turn winter chores, such as shoveling snow, into a nature-based mindfulness practice by tuning into the sensory experience you’re having,” says Basso. And be sure to get out before the sun goes down. Research shows sunlight can boost levels of serotonin, the feel-good hormone, which we could all use more of in winter. If you don’t feel like suiting up, winter boots and all, you can still gain some benefit from gazing outside. Spending cozy time beside the fire, watching the snow fall, can provide some of the same benefits as being out in nature, says Basso, although “the real thing, as well as fresh air, is always the best.” Plus, all that outdoor activity may help you to sleep deeper, particularly important during winter when the cold can cause feelings of lethargy, says Basso. Considering the calm, remote surroundings of the green o, it’s hard to imagine a better environment to reap the many the benefits of nature.

What do average nature lovers not know, or misunderstand about wolves? ACCLAIMED AUTHOR AND BIOLOGIST RICK MCINTYRE ELEVATES OUR UNDERSTANDING OF NATURE

Raised by

wolves

by Lauren Viera Imagine rising before dawn every morning to stalk a pack of wild animals. This is the life of Rick McIntyre, who for the past quarter of a century has observed the first generations of wolves to be reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park after a lifetime on its kill list. Prior to his recent retirement as Yellowstone’s premier Wolf Interpreter, McIntyre logged thousands of consecutive days in the field patiently following and watching wolf behavior, taking meticulously detailed notes that have since been published as a trio of books called “The Alpha Wolves of Yellowstone.” Stray spoke with McIntyre about protecting native animals, cohabitating with wolves in ranch communities like Paws Up (the ranch resort that neighbors the green o) and why wolves and humans are so similar in behavior.

I really like to emphasize that they’re a native animal; we should respect them, though there certainly has been a bias against wolves in our country for many centuries. One of the first things that pilgrims did was offer a bounty to kill wolves. Native Americans were the exact opposites: They really respected and admired them as role models. It’s fascinating that different cultures can see this species in such different lights. I personally learn a lot from wolves with respect to how to be responsible in life, how to be brave in life. My main characters in my first two books, Wolf 08 and Wolf 21, are just the epitome of responsibility. Wolf 21 was the undisputed heavyweight champion. He would never kill an opponent; he’d just use minimum force to protect his family. He was a big tough guy, but had a very gentle personality.

You’ve said that wolves and humans are very similar in terms of their behavior. Can you explain?

How can wolves and ranching communities, like the one at Paws Up, coexist in nature?

In the wild, wolves normally live in family groups. Typically, a young male grows up with his family, learns from them, then leaves home to find a mate when he’s about two years old—the equivalent to a human teenager. He’ll find a female from another family, they get together and their priority is to find their own territory. It’s challenging because in many areas, even in places like Yellowstone with 2 million acres, there’s only room for about 10 wolf packs, or families. So when we talk about a young couple of wolves that succeed in everything— find each other, find territory, have pups that survive, those pups become young adults that leave home—and repeat the cycle over again, that’s pretty familiar to how people tend to do things. Even just a few thousand years ago, people lived in small villages primarily living as hunters and gatherers, and we’d have to train the younger boys and girls in the family to be helpful on the hunt. Another thing relating wolves to people: We find in Yellowstone, for a protective population, the most common cause of death is fighting rival packs over territory. Humans tend to do the same thing. More often, neighboring countries fight each other; sometimes there’s political involvement. Think of Native American tribes in Montana: they were also extremely territorial at one time. Like people, each wolf has its own personality, and I would argue has its own character. Wolves are supposed to be very responsible and act heroically, but there are others that simply don’t.

My experience is all based on watching the behavior of wild wolves, and I have not dealt with ranching issues. But I could say that wild wolves would have respect for a group of large ranch guard dogs and would regard them as a rival pack of wolves. There are a few nonprofit organizations with people experienced with horses who volunteer as range riders to help out ranchers if there are problems [with wolves]. And in general, wolves tend to avoid people on horseback. There are other protective measures, too, that don’t involve dogs [or horses]: certain types of strobe lighting, flagging, alarms and so forth that can be set off by motion detectors to protect livestock, which would be offputting to wolves. For me, the most basic point is to remember that the wolf is a native animal; it was here before us. There are ways to live with wild animals. It takes effort. For example, when I’m out hiking by myself, I take bear spray, watch for bears and take care if I need to approach a carcass. Those of us who live in the West are here because we want to be. We like the open spaces, and the fact that pretty much all of the land’s original animals are here. I think if we’re going to maintain our natural relationships with the wildlife here, the right attitude is to be respectful of it.

Katina Connaughton calls foraging “spiritually uplifting,” as well. The farmer, along with her husband, Chef Kyle Connaughton, owns the three-Michelin-starred SingleThread Farm-Restaurant-Inn, in Healdsburg, California. “While foraging is part of my work, with the restaurant closures and restrictions, it returned to being an enjoyable pastime and a way for our entire family to reconnect,” she says. “The act of foraging and paying attention to nature allowed us to clear our heads and rejuvenate."

wi l d

At the same time, Chef Nicholas Elmi has found foraging to be a prime solo activity. The owner of Laurel and Lark in Philadelphia has been foraging for years with his team, taking field trips a few times each year to harvest ingredients for his multicourse tasting menu. But over the past year, he’s ventured out alone. “To be out by myself on my hands and knees digging for black trumpets or cutting mustard flower blossoms certainly allows for a few hours a week of a calm decompression,” he says. Now he finds excuses to go out by himself more, noting, “I’ve just really come to appreciate the quiet.”

HARvest by Regan Stephens “Pine tree and mint chocolate chip, please!” Try ordering that at your local ice cream shop, and they’ll probably look at you askance. But at the Social Haus, flavors go well beyond the classics. When you ask for mint chip, for example, you’ll get a freshly churned scoop flecked with thick squares of chocolate—and imbued with the distinct taste of spruce tips. The dessert’s herbal notes are just one way the staff likes to show off their foraging expertise. Executive Chef Brandon Cunningham and his team, including Pastry Chef Krystle Swenson, have explored far and wide across 37,000 acres to find all kinds of edible delights like mountain mint, rose hips and pineapple weed. These plants add pops of color and bold artistry to the dishes at the green o resort’s celebrated gathering spot. Other restaurants have followed the same path. Foraging—collecting mushrooms, herbs and other plants in the wild—isn’t new, and its rewards go way beyond just ingredients. Senior Executive Chef Sunny Jin at the nearby Resort at Paws Up describes his foraging efforts this way: “I’ve gained a greater appreciation for Montana’s identity by simply taking the time to walk slower and question what can be harvested throughout the four seasons.” For Cunningham, foraging isn’t just a way to collect rare ingredients; it’s also a family affair. “Not only do these ventures yield comestibles and medicinal goods,” he says, “we get the chance to bond and spend valuable time together in the great Montana outdoors.” His wife draws on flora like yarrow and red clover for apothecary work, and Cunningham uses pineapple weed and wild hops in dishes at the restaurant, including the woodsy mint ice cream.

How an ancient practice is taking root in kitchens everywhere

But let’s get to the surfing part. First, you need to find really good surf, or at least worthy surf. And that can take an hour or so driving up and down the coast. Upside you have coffee and the car’s heat. And then finally, when you do find a suitable break, you need to get that 6 millimeters of wetsuit over your trembling naked body in a parking lot or worse, by the side of the road. This is only slightly less awful than taking off your suit in the same place before going home. After your hood goes on, and your feet and hands are covered, like an astronaut you trudge your way to the shoreline, which is often frozen solid. Now people who don’t surf have this common misperception that we wear dry suits, but let me be very clear: you do not stay dry surfing. Water comes rushing in through your hood almost immediately as you paddle out. And when this happens, every nerve ending in your body screams “Holy hell, what are you doing?” and then oddly that frozen flush of water, after you catch your breath and regain your vision, begins to warm. And then with your heart racing, muscles firing and body temp rising, a miracle happens: you realize you’re not actually cold, you’re surfing. And given that you walked through snow and crawled over frozen rocks to get there, it’s very likely you’re surfing with only one or two other people. And if you were even slightly stressed about work, that’s gone. Hungover? Gone. And worries about your mortgage, gone too. Because the truth is, winter surfing is the great escape. It’s magical, mystical, life-affirming—every cliché in the book, not to mention, damn tiring. And as your buddy calls it a day, waving goodbye, before he jumps into his toasty-warm pickup truck, you decide to keep surfing by yourself, because, after all, now you finally have this frozen amusement park to yourself. And as you bob up and down, in the darkening Atlantic Ocean without a hint of life in sight, waiting for one more perfect wave, you suddenly realize: I think I forgot to drop a pin.

“PLEASE,

DON’T

FORGET

DROP

PIN”

IS THE LAST THING I HEAR FROM MY WIFE BEFORE I SLIP OUT OF BED AT 6:00AM TO

by David Register Photography by Christian Kozowyk

HEAD UP THE COAST ON I-95 TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.

It’s 28 degrees this morning, and Surfline, the world’s surf report, says the water is 37 degrees—not freezing, but getting there. And for someone like me, who grew surfing in Malibu, it seems actually a tad ludicrous. But here’s the thing, surfers love empty waves. And the colder it gets, the fewer surfers there are, and the fewer surfers there are, the more waves you catch. Winter surfing in places like New England, Alaska or even Iceland (which are all roughly the same water temp in February) is a lot like going back 20 years when a few million less people surfed. And that in a nutshell is the beauty of it. And, like most places in the world, around here, there are just way better waves in the winter. It’s like my good buddy and photographer Christian says: "Not sure hell freezes over but heaven does."

by Naomi Tomky Whatever you do, don’t call it a vineyard. Around Hiyu’s entrance outside Hood River, Oregon, there are no fastidiously planted flowers adorning some slick welcome sign. Instead, you’ll find last year’s cardoons, black and overgrown, jutting up from the earth. At other wineries, there’d be immaculately mowed pathways, but here you can see thick brush growing between rows of grapevines. After all, this is Hiyu Wine Farm. On this day, its owner and former Master Sommelier Nate Ready walks around wondering aloud how his piglets got out of their pen. But he does nothing and eventually they wiggle back in through a wide wire fence. It seems a fitting metaphor for Ready’s overall winemaking philosophy. “You’re just really questioning any potential intervention,” he says. “You instigate and set up things, but then you’re pretty hands-off.”

W I N E FA R M :

Where making wine is almost as easy as drinking it

He refers to his guiding principle as “thoughtful laziness.” Those American Guinea piglets will grow into hogs that will gently till the soil. Nearby weeds like horsetails will be harvested to become an herbal tealike liquid that Ready sprays on grapevines to encourage microbes, averting the need for traditional eradicationbased maintenance. This kind of forward-thinking mentality—at Hiyu and other wine farms, including Antica Terra and Big Table, which are available at the green o—allows oenophiles to enjoy wine in its raw state, unadulterated. But Ready himself is one of a kind, having taken the approach to the next level, almost completely hands-off. Ready’s laissez-faire science harnesses the power of controlled chaos to grow 112 grape varieties in 16 parcels (one for each of their wines) with multiple varieties often grafted onto the same vine. “The more plants you have, the more diverse the microfauna in the soil will be,” Ready explains. And that gives the plants a more complete spectrum of nutrients to make them healthier and heartier. The end result is better wine. All those different plant species growing around the grapes, such as salsify flowers and fennel, also show up in the glass: “If there is nothing but grapes, the wine will be inherently more simple.” With his wines, says Ready, “You’re going to taste everything that’s out here.” At Hiyu, the variety goes beyond the vineyards. His crops include edible plant gardens and kale forests, as well as an orchard’s worth of fruit trees. He keeps a small menagerie of animals. And even on the business side, Ready works toward an alternative model for winery operations— one where farmers not only make wine, but also produce foods that can be served on-site. By spreading his knowledge to other winemakers, Ready is hoping to magnify the idea of resilience through diversity. But, befitting of a man preaching thoughtful laziness, he’s in no hurry to push his vision any faster than he and his team can comfortably work, with their laid-back attitudes and daily family-style lunches. Sitting down to eat, team members take turns cooking, imparting the meals with same variety that blossoms in the vineyard. “When you come out here to harvest, every single cluster (of grapes) will all look different: different shapes, sizes and colors. So when you make the wine, the wine reflects that, too,” Ready says. He adds, “Part of the joy of food and wine is to be surprised.”

along with help from their two children. The Wood family, which resides in Oak Park, has constructed three unique igloos over the past several winters, each of which used an increasing number of ice blocks formed in spent milk cartons.

IN CAVING

“Half the work is freezing the blocks,” Wood jokes, recalling that last winter’s ten-foot-by-ten-foot pyra-gloo used approximately 800 cartons. After they’ve been filled with water and a splash of food coloring for aesthetic appeal, they’re left outside to freeze. Temperatures have to drop at least down to the 20s for the ice blocks to freeze solid—and to remain frozen during construction. It’s a process that requires trips back and forth to the house, where blocks are pried from their cartons, and the yard, where the “brickyard” grows.

g e t r e b u i l t e v e r y y e a r.

by Lauren Viera Winter in Chicago. For some, the thought of it conjures a shiver and a longing to be literally anywhere else on the planet. But for others, it’s a playground and an opportunity to shine. Last winter, with record snowfalls in both January and February, thick blankets covered the city for weeks at a time, leaving a blank canvas for the city’s more creative residents. Their vision? Snow sculptures. From the gloriously wide boulevards of Logan Square to the historic Frank Lloyd Wright district of neighboring Oak Park,

the overabundance of snow was transformed into caves, forts and fanciful carvings. More than a few were so intriguing they served as gathering spots and sightseeing destinations. Fields of snowmen and snowmaidens populated the parks, while lights, chairs and portable fire pits were towed out to the sidewalks for spontaneous cold-weather socializing. Among the most impressive structures was a hybrid pyramidigloo—a “pyra-gloo,” as it became known—built by Chicago architects and spouses Tansri Muliani and Antony Wood,

Why winter is the perfect time to experience Big Sky Country

Then, the real work begins. “The building is pretty intensive,” Wood says, “but it’s quite simple.” Using a classic brick-and-mortar technique, the ice blocks are wedged into a snowy foundation, then joined and laid on top of one another using snow and water as mortar. Once a block is positioned in place, within a minute or two the snow freezes, and it’s set. Wood recalls that last winter’s pyra-gloo took three weeks to build from start to finish, made possible thanks to a particularly frigid stretch in early February. A handful of heavy snowfalls meant the structure was at times covered in fluffy snow, with building resuming after the snow melted enough to reveal the colorful structure in progress. Its completion called for a celebration: a Saturday night get-together with friends and family. “We had a fire going in the garden with 20 people or so,” Wood says. “It was great fun, and then on Sunday, the newspaper came round to photograph it.” That Monday, it warmed up, and by Tuesday, the structure had collapsed and melted. Of course, as Wood says, there’s always next year.

Some architectural landmarks

THE DARK SIDE

by Jennifer Franklin Gazing up at the night sky, it’s easy to be both dazzled and reassured by the sheer magnitude of the heavens. “You can get lost from your worldly worries by stargazing,” says Mark Marquette, president of the Brevard Astronomical Society in Melbourne, Florida. While you might be lucky and catch a glimpse of the brightest stellar bodies in your own backyard, the best view of the night sky is in remote places, away from artificial lights. In fact, darkness is such a key component of successful stargazing that Tucson, Arizona’s International Dark-Sky Association is on a mission to identify the darkest places around the globe. Without a good, inky sky, “it’s easy to become disconnected from nature,” says astrophotographer Michael Spear Hawkins. Based in Taos, New Mexico, he often hosts night sky interpretive sessions with a telescope. “I’m in awe of how many people don’t take notice of the night sky. It’s a shame.” So, once you’ve found a suitable spot, far from major power grids, it’s important to turn off any lamps, flashlights and glowing mobile phones. Then, let your eyes adjust. “It takes about 20 minutes,” says Hawkins, who notes that, while a high-powered telescope or binoculars can enhance the experience, there are plenty of enthralling things to see with just the naked eye. In the fall and winter, you can see the vibrant orbs of Jupiter and Saturn; the Pleiades open star cluster, often called the Seven Sisters and the Orion Nebula, a star nursery. Even if you don’t know the names and ages of the stars, galaxies and planets you’re seeing or the fascinating lore associated with them, the vast and ever-changing night sky can leave a lasting impression. “Spending time outside, looking at these things and taking note of how small we are— it’s just so humbling,” Hawkins says. And before long, you’re well on your way to an out-of-this-world experience.

by Adam Erace It takes about 15 minutes for the Big Mountain Express to whisk you from the base of Whitefish Mountain to the ski resort’s snowy apex. Elevation change: 2,353 feet. Total elevation: 6,817 feet. But you can’t really get the magnitude until you disembark the ski lift and turn around. All the way down, beyond the lodge and surrounded by an amphitheater of evergreens, is Whitefish Lake, rangy and snow-covered, as if Mother Nature spilled her bottle of Wite-Out.

Wintertime road tripping

Places

Once you’re flying down Elephant’s Graveyard, 1000 Turns or one of the other 93 runs, the view will be a thrilling white blur, so take a moment to absorb it. It’s a vista worth going out of your way for—one of several reasons to start your visit to the green o 150-odd miles north in Whitefish, the gateway to western Glacier National Park. Whether you ski or snowboard Whitefish Mountain or snowshoe through the silent majesty of West Glacier (the lower reaches near Lake McDonald is the main area open and reliably plowed in winter), the rugged physicality of the land makes a pleasant contrast to the pampering awaiting you at the end of your road trip. This is not to say Whitefish and stops beyond are devoid of sybaritic pleasure. Whitefish is a tony resort town with fantastic places to refuel, such as Ellie and Orion Heyman’s The Wich Haus, a charming cottage specializing in creatively constructed sandwiches, like the pork schnitzel with muenster and caraway mayo, and Abruzzo’s Italian Kitchen, home to a pappardelle Bolognese that will warm you soul to toes. Drive south through Kalispell and around the top of Flathead Lake, the largest freshwater lake in the western U.S., to Bigfork and Echo Lake Cafe, the Young family’s cheery wood-clad diner where the buttermilk pancakes drip blueberry-raspberry sauce. Next stop: the National Bison Range in Charlo, a worthy detour located within the Flathead Reservation. Stewarded by the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, these 18,766 acres shelter bison, elk and other indigenous fauna, and encountering them is an unforgettable experience. The bears, of course, are napping this time of year.

that will stop you in your tracks from Whitefish to Greenough

Another hour’s worth of driving brings you into Missoula, a happening university town where you can choose your own adventure: bewitching IPAs from Robert Rivers and Fernanda Menna Barreto Krum’s community-conscious Imagine Nation Brewery, huckleberry cones beneath the glow of Big Dipper’s neon marquee or stocking up on cozy sweats and cedar candles at the Montana Scene, a local makers’ marketplace in the lobby of a Residence Inn (really). If the weather cooperates, hike Mount Jumbo for a sweeping view of Missoula and possibly the resident elk herd on your way out of the city. the green o is about 30 minutes due east, and after such an active journey, you’ll be glad to sink into your private hot tub and relax—or bundle up for another big adventure.

TH E CR E ATU R E CO M FO RTS AR E U N PAR ALLE LE D. A S AR E TH E CR E ATU R E S .

Rare is the resort that can boast impeccable architectural design, unmatched privacy and world-class amenities. Rarer still, one that provides all this and a nonstop parade of Montana’s finest wildlife just beyond your window. But that’s the promise of each and every Haus at the green o. Exquisitely designed with floor-to-ceiling views and materials in perfect sync with your surroundings, you’ll discover out here, the line between where nature ends and luxury begins is very fine indeed. Please join us.

thegreeno.com I Greenough, Montana I 866-720-6697