Yankee Magazine March/April 2016

A Most Unusual Gift of Love

A Most Unusual Gift of Love

THEPOEMREADS:

THEPOEMREADS:

Dear Reader,

Dear Reader,

The drawing you see above is called The Promise It is completely composed of dots of ink. After writing the poem, I worked with a quill pen and placed thousands of these dots, one at a time, to create this gift in honor of my youngest brother and his wife.

Dear Reader,

The drawing you see above is called “The Promise.” It is completely composed of dots of ink. After writing the poem, I worked with a quill pen and placed thousands of these dots, one at a time, to create this gift in honor of my youngest brother and his wife.

Now, I have decided to offer The Promise to those who share and value its sentiment. Each litho is numbered and signed by hand and precisely captures the detail of the drawing. As a wedding, anniversary or Valentine’s gift or simply as a standard for your own home, I believe you will find it most appropriate.

The drawing you see above is called “The Promise.” It is completely composed of dots of ink. After writing the poem, I worked with a quill pen and placed thousands of these dots, one at a time, to create this gift in honor of my youngest brother and his wife.

Now, I have decided to offer “The Promise” to those who share and value its sentiment. Each litho is numbered and signed by hand and precisely captures the detail of the drawing. As a wedding, anniversary or Valentine’s gift or simply as a standard for your own home, I believe you will find it most appropriate.

Measuring 14" by 16", it is available either fully-framed in a subtle copper tone with hand-cut double mats of pewter and rust at $135*, or in the mats alone at $95*. Please add $14.50 for insured shipping and packaging. Your satisfaction is completely guaranteed.

My best wishes are with you.

Measuring 14" by 16", it is available either fully framed in a subtle copper tone with hand-cut mats of pewter and rust at $110, or in the mats alone at $95. Please add $14.50 for insured shipping and packaging. Your satisfaction is completely guaranteed.

Now, I have decided to offer “The Promise” to those who share and value its sentiment. Each litho is numbered and signed by hand and precisely captures the detail of the drawing. As a wedding, anniversary or Valentine’s gift or simply as a standard for your own home, I believe you will find it most appropriate.

My best wishes are with you.

The Art of Robert Sexton • P.O. Box 581 • Rutherford, CA 94573

Measuring 14" by 16", it is available either fully framed in a subtle copper tone with hand-cut mats of pewter and rust at $110, or in the mats alone at $95. Please add $14.50 for insured shipping and packaging. Your satisfaction is completely guaranteed.

The Art of Robert Sexton, 491 Greenwich St. (at Grant), San Francisco, CA 94133

All major credit cards are welcomed. Please send card name, card number, address and expiration date, or phone (415) 989-1630 between 10 a.m.-6 P.M. PST, Monday through Saturday. Checks are also accepted. Please allow up to 2 weeks for delivery. *California residents- please include 8.0% tax

My best wishes are with you.

MASTERCARD and VISA orders welcome. Please send card name, card number, address and expiration date, or phone (415) 989-1630 between noon-8 P M.EST. Checks are also accepted. Please allow 3 weeks for delivery. “The Promise” is featured with many other recent works in my book, “Journeys of the Human Heart.” It, too, is available from the address above at $12.95 per copy postpaid. Please visit my Web site at www.robertsexton.com

Please visit my Web site at www.robertsexton.com

and VISA orders welcome. Please send card

“Across the years I will walk with you— in deep, green forests; on shores of sand: and when our time on earth is through, in heaven, too, you will have my hand.”

“Across the years I will walk with you— in deep, green forests; on shores of sand: and when our time on earth is through, in heaven, too, you will have my hand.”

CONTENTS

Brent and Maya McCoy and their Lab, Little, enjoy the serenity of Caspian Lake in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom.

98 /// ‘My New England’

Our fourth annual reader photo contest showcases the spirit of the region in vivid imagery.

104 /// ‘More Than Just a Tree’

Will a tiny but fierce predator destroy a signature New England tree, dooming the centuries-old tradition of Native American basketmaking? by Sara Anne Donnelly

110 /// The Big Question

Dr. Irene Davis tells us how retraining your running style can prevent joint damage. interviewed by Todd Balf

112 /// Vincent and His Lady

SUMMER TRAVEL PLANNING GUIDE

Remembering an eccentric bookstore customer and his unusual friendship with a reclusive reader. by Kate Whouley

114 /// The Traditionalists: Born to Be a Tugboat Captain

ST PG 78 /// Hidden New England

Dreaming of summer travel? Think new, get off the beaten path, and visit these six towns for a relaxed, laid-back escape. by Yankee staff & contributors

ST PG 92 /// Best Food Festivals

Yankee ’s guide to our favorite celebrations of classic New England cuisine. by Christie Matheson

Second in our series celebrating New England’s heritage trades: Doug Fournier guides Maine’s visiting merchant vessels safely into harbor. by Ian Aldrich

120 /// Follow Us

Second in a two-part series on New England’s energy landscape: Profiling three communities that are adopting clean technology to power their future. by Howard Mansfield

Carver’s Harbor is the heart of the waterfront in Vinalhaven, Maine, a year-round island community offering visitors a warm welcome (see p. 82). photograph by Kindra Clineff

Cruise Maine and the New England Islands

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More Contents THE GUIDE

home

32 /// The Art House

New Hampshire painter and needle felter

Lauren Decatur finds inspiration in the nature at her doorstep. by Marni Elyse Katz

40 /// Open Studio

In Newbury, Massachusetts, Michael Updike etches stories into stone. by Annie Graves

42 /// House for Sale

Yankee visits a historic sea captain’s home in Kennebunk, Maine. by the Yankee Moseyer

48 /// Bottling the Magic

In Vermont’s Mad River Valley, maple producers are embracing innovation to preserve a venerable tradition. by Keith Pandolfi

58 /// Recipe with a History

Old-fashioned whoopie pies unite three generations of home bakers. by Aimee Seavey

travel

62 /// Could You Live Here?

Chester, Connecticut, offers a compact downtown in a beautiful riverside setting. by Annie Graves

70 /// Out & About

Patriots’ Day festivities, maple tours, St. Paddy’s celebrations, flower and home shows, quilt expos, and other fun seasonal events. compiled by Joe Bills

72 /// The Best 5

Maple-mania destinations: Early spring brings sugaring season, when New Englanders tap their trees for liquid gold. by Kim Knox Beckius

74 /// Local Treasure

8

YANKEE ALL ACCESS

DEAR YANKEE

10 CONTRIBUTORS

12

INSIDE YANKEE

14

MARY’S FARM

Winter Dreams by Edie Clark

16

LIFE IN THE KINGDOM

Pure Vermont by Ben Hewitt

20

FIRST LIGHT

Yankee reveals “Secrets of the Spring Foragers”: the magic and the romance of the wild food in your own backyard. by Annie Graves

24

ONLY IN NEW ENGLAND

The Small-Town News Network by Ken Sheldon

26

KNOWLEDGE & WISDOM

Mud-season tips, St. Patrick’s parades, and expert advice on collectibles.

30

UP CLOSE

Sap Buckets by Joe Bills

134

62 departments

POETRY BY D.A.W.

152

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‘The Natural’

What a wonderful article on Beatrice Trum Hunter [Nov./Dec., p. 78]. I enjoyed reading about this pioneering woman whom we’ve heard so little about. I’m so grateful that it was published while she’s still with us to communicate her experiences. I so admire her commitment to health and the envi ronment. She’s a terrific role model.

SARA ANNE DONNELLY

Sara Anne Donnelly (“‘More Than Just a Tree,’” p. 104) is a freelance writer in Portland, Maine. She specializes in narratives focusing on Maine, its people, and their culture and is the author of Insider’s Guide to Portland, Maine (Globe Pequot Press). saraannedonnelly.com

I’m so glad that you thought to go find Beatrice Trum Hunter. A glimpse of her life was a pleasure and a wonder. I liked that she was visited by Adele Davis, who changed my diet when I was a teenager. Thank you, both for bringing another valuable story to your magazine and for emphasizing the importance of the “simple (nontoxic)” things.

No Ordinary Life

What a delightful surprise to open the pages of your November/Decem ber issue and see the beautiful write on St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts [“A Life That Is ‘Ordi nary, Obscure, and Laborious,’” p. 66]. St. Joseph’s is very near and dear to me, since my cousin, Brother Bruno, was one of the first monks to live there. After Bruno’s death in 1990, Father Simon, myself, and another monk (who wishes to remain anonymous) mutually adopted one another. I’ve been to two funerals, shared a few meals with these wonderful men, and continue to make an annual visit to the abbey. They’re very special.

TRISTAN SPINSKI

Tristan Spinski (“Born to Be a Tugboat Captain,” p. 114) is a photographer, writer, and co-founding member of GRAIN, a photography collective. He lives in Portland, Maine, with his wife, Sarah, and two dogs, Floyd and Billie Ocean. tristanspinski.com

HOWARD MANSFIELD

A resident of southern New Hampshire, Howard Mansfield (“Follow Us,” p. 120) is a writer and consultant focusing on American history, preservation, culture, and the meaning of place. His newest book is Sheds (Bauhan Publishing), exploring simple New England structures such as barns and bobhouses. howardmansfield.com

KEITH PANDOLFI

Keith Pandolfi (“Bottling the Magic,” p. 48) is the senior features editor for the website Serious Eats. He has been fascinated by maple-syrup production ever since his parents took him on a childhood trip to Vermont, and he firmly believes that maple is one of the best foods humankind has ever discovered. He lives with his wife and daughter in Brooklyn, New York. seriouseats.com

KATE WHOULEY

Kate Whouley (“Vincent and His Lady,” p. 112) writes from her home on Cape Cod. She is the author of Cottage for Sale, Must Be Moved and Remembering the Music, Forgetting the Words: Travels with Mom in the Land of Dementia katewhouley.com

Write us at 1121 Main St., Dublin, NH 03444, or editor@YankeeMagazine.com. Please include where you reside. Letters may be edited for length and clarity.

ANNIE GRAVES

Annie Graves (“Secrets of the Spring Foragers,” p. 20, and “The Slate Imaginings of Michael Updike,” p. 40) is a contributing editor to Yankee and author of the magazine’s “Could You Live Here?” column (p. 62 in this issue). A New Hampshire native, she’s been a travel, home, and feature writer for more than 25 years. anniegraves.com

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Hide and Seek

s I’ve said before in this space, sometimes a theme emerges in an issue, unexpectedly, as if it’s been hiding in plain sight. Only when I read the entire issue again, on the first weekend of this new year, did I find this one: the people and places we pass by each day without really seeing, or getting to know. The New England that remains hidden from view has a lot to teach us. For instance, “Secrets of the Spring Foragers” (p. 20) reveals the world that opens to anyone willing to study the edible plants that spring to life as the soil warms in meadows, forests, even backyards. There’s a delicious banquet waiting to be picked and savored, if only we know where to look.

And in the same woodlands where these hidden treats await may lie a tiny rapacious insect, the emerald ash borer. This bug does its mortal damage away from human eyes, and, as “‘More Than Just a Tree’” (p. 104) recounts, the damage it may soon inflict on New England’s black-ash trees will not only affect forest ecology but also perhaps end a timeless Native American basket-weaving tradition. Many people who play a vital role in the New England way of life go about their business far from the spotlight. For 80 years this magazine has told their stories, which nearly always are more compelling than those of the celebrities who fill magazine racks and airwaves. In “Pure Vermont” (p. 16), Ben Hewitt tells us about a place that couldn’t get more hidden unless it wrapped itself in camouflage. The Chainsawr is where the woodsmen of northern Vermont bring their wounded chainsaws to recuperate and gain new life, essential to rural existence. And without the steady nerves and skill of people like Doug Fournier (“Born to Be a Tugboat Captain,” p. 114), shipping would all but collapse, and the seas around our ports would resemble Boston’s Storrow Drive at 5:30 p.m.: everyone knowing where they want to go, but with no idea when and how they can get there. Kate Whouley’s “Vincent and His Lady” (p. 112) may make you wonder how many other quiet dramas are happening all around you, no matter where you may live.

And finally, there’s the delight that travelers know when they opt to explore a little off the beaten path, as if they’ve heard a secret told only to them. In “Hidden New England” (p. 78) you’ll discover six destinations that may never have found their way onto your bucket list, but that we’re confident, once you visit, will have you exclaiming, “Why didn’t I think to come here before?” They’re not the celebrities among destinations, and you won’t likely find them featured on the Travel Channel, but like so much in this issue, they make their mark on the world, their way, waiting to be found.

Mel Allen, Editor editor@YankeeMagazine.com

Winter Dreams

A greenhouse can start not only seedlings but thoughts of summer sun.

round here, a lot of stories surround a man named Sandy, an architect who designed houses uncharacteristic of New England. With their low roof lines and blond wood paneling, they might have been a better fit in California. A lot of people said that he was ahead of his time or that perhaps he was living in the wrong place. This was back in the 1960s. I never knew the man, but apparently he didn’t like winter. One story I heard was that he designed a greenhouse to be built up above his house. He didn’t build it to grow anything. Instead, inside the glass house, he planted a big lawn that provided him with a winter fantasy; he could unfold his lawn chair out there and sit on green grass, enjoying the sun on the coldest winter day. He had six children, so I imagine it was also a place for him to escape the mayhem, a kind of “man cave” before there ever was such a thing. I was so intrigued by that that I inquired, and his wife invited me to walk up and have a look. Sure enough, there was the outline of the footings impressed in the earth, with shards of glass scattered about this sharp-edged rectangle. You would have had to know what it was in order to figure out what had once been there. What I saw was a dream in ruins. Sometimes dreams are the start of a reality: Eventually, Sandy ended up living in Ireland, surrounded by all that green. When I first moved here to Mary’s farm, there was a small hothouse that Mary had installed down near her garden. It was the kind that could be ordered from a gardening catalogue, delivered in pieces and constructed on site. I understand that it was her dream to be able to extend her gardening season. Her father had been a gardener on one of the Great Gatsby –like estates on Long Island, and much of her gardening knowledge as well as her plantings here had come to her from him. I also had great hopes for that little conservatory and managed to begin the process of making it a place where I could start seedlings and store garden tools. But a massive ice storm brought down a substantial portion of a big apple tree, which punctured many of the glass panes and put a stop to my own dream of having a greenhouse. For a few years it sat idle. Then one day I ran into a man who told me that he was interested in having such a greenhouse, and it worked out that he would come and take it apart and move it to his place a few towns away. I was happy with that plan, and he was happy as well. Over the course of a few Saturdays, he came and carefully took it apart, neatly stacking the glass partitions in his trailer and driving it all away.

I guess there were some bumps along the road to putting it all back together again, a whole Humpty Dumpty story of its own, but recently I saw this clever man and he was excited to tell me that the little greenhouse was back in business on a rise above the marsh behind his house. He showed me pictures: Mary’s glass house, snugly surrounded by snowbanks. It was a delightful second coming. I asked him what he was growing in there. “Nothing,” he said. “We just like to go out there on a cold winter’s day and sit.” I told him then about Sandy and his winter lawn, and he lit up. “What a great idea!” he said.

I saw the wheels turning. Who knows—after all these years, maybe Sandy’s idea will take root.

Edie Clark’s books, including her newest, As Simple As That: Collected Essays , are now available at: edieclark.com

Pure Vermont

hen I was young, I would sometimes go to the woods with my father to cut firewood. My memories of this are a bit hazy, in part because it was 30 years ago or more, and in part because it didn’t happen very often. My father wasn’t a natural-born woodcutter, nor was he a man who relished physical labor in general, and the temptation to purchase firewood from men more suited to the task ultimately prevailed.

Yet something of the work imprinted itself on me, in the form of startlingly specific memories. For instance, I recall loading wood into the back of a vehicle entirely unsuited to the task: the late-’70s Honda Civic wagon my parents drove. And I remember the acrid smell of my father’s saw, a barn-red Jonsered, a brand that has since been purchased by a larger, multinational powertool conglomerate. Back then, Jonsered chainsaws were popularly known as “Jonesy Red,” perhaps because few Americans knew precisely how to twist their tongues around the brand’s true name, or (and this seems more likely to me) maybe because “Jonesy Red” is simply more fun to say. Try it—you’ll see what I mean.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY COREY HENDRICKSON

If you want to see an unfiltered slice of rural Vermont, hang out a while at The Chainsawr.

From left, Levi Chase, former employee Alan Grenier, and Scott DesJardins with a 1944 Lombard GS 6 outside The Chainsawr store and repair shop in Stannard, Vermont.

My father’s saw must now be approaching its 40th birthday. Perhaps it’s even as old as I am. I can’t say what has become of it, though I couldn’t help considering its fate on one recent late-winter afternoon, as I stood in the midst of what might be the world’s largest chainsaw graveyard. “Near as I can figure, we’ve got somewhere around 7,000 saws,” Scott DesJardins told me. He’s the founder and owner of the graveyard, which is formally known as The Chainsawr. It isn’t so much a place where chainsaws go to die as it is where they go to be reborn, their usable parts stripped and shipped to all corners of the globe: tiny donated organs of metal, plastic, and rubber.

It isn’t easy to find The Chainsawr, or at least not its physical manifestation (most customers place their orders online). And if you’re inclined to follow the business’s advice, you probably don’t want to call there, either: Unearthing the phone number on the website (store.chainsawr.com ) requires a special brand of persistence, which, sometimes according to Scott’s mood, is ultimately rewarded with the following disclaimers:

• The person you end up talking to will be busy, overworked, and grumpy, and doesn’t want to talk to you.

• And, just in case you’re not getting the point … Remember, if you call on the phone you will be talking to somebody who didn’t want to answer the phone in the first place.

Naturally, these warnings served only to imbue me with an insatiable desire to pick up the phone and dial The Chainsawr, just to see how overworked, grumpy, and disinclined to talk to me the person on the other end would be. Still, if I’ve learned anything over my 43 years, it’s that antagonizing grumpy people with chainsaws is not a recipe for my continued health and well-being, so I decided that an in-person visit was warranted.

Downtown Stannard, Vermont, consists of a town hall that’s open exactly four hours each week and a church that features neither electricity nor running water. As I passed between the church and the town hall, it occurred to me that this was precisely the sort of town where grumpy chain-

saw repairmen could find the solitude essential to their temperament and chosen profession, for the surrounding hills were thickly wooded, the domain of saw-wielding loggers.

A half-mile farther, I turned off the less-traveled gravel lane onto an even lesser-traveled gravel lane, before pulling into The Chainsawr’s driveway. I exited my car and entered the shop, passing under an assortment of antique chainsaws, most of which looked outlandishly large and cumbersome, like something Bigfoot would use to fill his woodshed.

To the extent that one could sue a business for false claims of grumpiness, I’d have a pretty good case against the

sawr isn’t the sort of place where casual chainsaw users are found, and it’s not hard to see why. The overall aesthetic is raw in a distinctly rural way: A shotgun hangs casually above a row of chainsaw bars, and the viewing glass in the woodstove that heats the shop shattered on a recent 20-below-zero morning. Someday it will be replaced. Then again, maybe it won’t. There’s no customer bathroom (there’s no bathroom), and customer seating consists of a yellow-birch slab set atop two buckets of spent hydraulic fluid. There are three visible clocks in the shop; at the time of my visit, one was set at 6:05, another at 7:55, and the third at 9:52.

The Chainsawr, because both Scott and his sole employee, Levi Chase, a stocky 23-year-old with an air of optimistic youthful energy about him, were congenial and outgoing, albeit indeed quite busy. When I arrived, Levi was just entering the shop from a side door; he’d been outside, putting a customer’s saw through the paces.

“I riched it up significantly,” he said, which, for those of you un familiar with chainsaw repair-speak, refers to an increase in the fuel-to-air ratio of the saw’s carburetor. He handed the saw over to the waiting customer, who worked on a residential tree-felling and -trimming crew.

As I soon learned, the majority of The Chainsawr’s customers rely on their saws for one of two things (and in some cases, both): their living or their living. The difference is found in the italicized emphasis, with the former being defined by the labor that results in a paycheck, and the latter by the labor that stems the outflow of money: firewood to heat the house; softwood logs to feed a backyard sawmill that will produce the lumber to build a barn or workshop. That sort of thing.

Generally speaking, The Chain -

Still, it’s my observation that the value of a business to its community is often inversely proportional to its amenities, an equation that’s certainly applicable to The Chainsawr. During my three-hour visit, I watched Levi repair three chainsaws while their owners—all professional woodsmen—occupied the aforementioned birch slab. And I hadn’t been in the shop more than 90 minutes before Scott sent a customer home with a new chainsaw, receiving in return nothing but a promise to pay.

The shop banter was that of working-class men the world over, full of unprintable phrases and the regional rural vernacular, punctuated by a particular brand of quasi-morbid humor regarding the state of the mechanical contraptions these men rely on:

Customer: “How’s Levi today?”

Levi: “Not too awful bad.”

Or:

Customer (as Scott returns from tuning his saw): “Looking good?”

Scott: “No, it’s not. Actually, it’s never going to look any better.”

Or:

Customer (apropos of nothing): “If I’d

Customer seating consists of a yellow-birch slab set atop two buckets of spent hydraulic fluid.

known I was gonna live this long, I’d’ve taken better care of myself!”

As I soon learned, hanging out at The Chainsawr provides a view into the rural North Country economy that’s unlikely to be written into any textbook. For instance, I learned of the connection between maple syrup and chainsaws (a good sugaring year

peting skidder brands (the cabs on the Deere skidders are particularly tight, resulting in makeshift saw storage on the machine’s exterior, which leads to frequent skidder/saw altercations).

I learned, too, that ideal logging conditions do not, as I would have expected, result in increased sales, because when conditions are ideal, nothing short of catastrophic equip -

one where the ground freezes early, allowing the machines ready access— always pays off eventually.

I was surprised to learn that Scott is only 30; he lives with his family in a house they bought cheap and renovated. It’s only a few feet from the shop’s front door. This may sound patronizingly obvious, but he loves chainsaws, and considers them a marvel of engineering and ingenuity. “Chainsaws are totally unique in terms of how long they last, what you pay for them, and what you get out of them,” he says. “They weigh under 20 pounds, run at 14,000 rpm for eight or nine hours a day, six days a week, and last five years before you have to spend a few hundred bucks on a rebuild. There’s nothing else out there that’ll do that.”

When Scott was a high-school student in South Burlington, Vermont, he took an aptitude test. The result was surprising to him, primarily because he’d never heard of the job title skidder operator

“I had no idea what that was,” he told me. “I got on Yahoo and said, ‘Oh my God, that’s the coolest thing.’”

Although it’s true that his career doesn’t involve operating skidders on a regular basis, it’s also true that chainsaws and skidders are kissing cousins. Furthermore, he recently took delivery of a Timberjack 205 skidder, which he plans to restore “for fun.”

I took my leave of The Chainsawr in the early afternoon. Levi was out back; I could hear the revved-up mosquito sound of the saw he was tuning. Maybe he was riching it up, though he might just as likely have been leaning it out. Scott was scrolling through online parts orders. The phone rang. “Hello— Chainsawr,” he answered. He didn’t sound the least bit grumpy to me.

Ben Hewitt’s fourth book, The Nourishing Homestead: One Back-to-theLand Family’s Plan for Cultivating Soil, Skills, and Spirit, was published last year by Chelsea Green. benhewitt.net

First LIGHT

THIS PAGE : Gillian takes a closer look at her father’s foraging find, a black-staining polypore. It’s an edible fungus, but some specimens are too fibrous to be palatable.

OPPOSITE , FROM TOP : A sampling of edibles: dandelion blossoms, black-locust flowers, ostrich-fern fiddleheads, dryad’s saddle mushroom.

‘Small-Town News’ … pp. 24–25

Facts, stats & advice … pp. 26-27

Is your collection valuable? … p. 28

UP CLOSE : Sap buckets… p. 30

Secrets of the Spring Foragers

There’s

BY ANNIE GRAVES

food:

ur great winter hibernation rumbles to its end in the first real warming days of April. Somewhere, that first spike of green nudges a crumble of earth out of the way. And then, suddenly, it’s every blade for itself. Sassy green urchins unfurl everywhere, fragile at first, raising their heads and striking their fists skyward. It’s a feast for the eyes, this burgeoning greenery. It not only feeds the color-starved soul, it’s literally delicious. A landscape of edible wildness, a natural picnic banquet, if you know what

“Smell this,” says Robert Gergulics, waving a jar of dried sassafras under my nose. I’m sitting at a small, cramped table in the dining room of an apartment in Norwich, Connecticut, while Robert’s wife, Karen Monger, flips through pages of recipes developed over a decade of foraging. Their 10-year-old daughter, Gillian, munches on a handful of dried apples harvested last year from a campground in western

This is home turf for The 3 Foragers, as this family calls itself on their delectable blog—a rich blend of photos (Robert’s) and recipes they’ve perfected (Karen was a professional pastry chef). Experts at seeing what’s hidden in plain sight, they hunt, identify, and cook up wild edible plants that grow in backyards, along trails, and in fields. Hardly exotic stuff, most often these are the “weeds” you mow over as soon as they get too long: lamb’s quarters, dandelion, purslane, and sheep sorrel. The shelves behind me bulge with reference books on plants and mushrooms, but more spectacular are the glass jars filled with dried dandelion, ground chaga, shimmering jams and jellies from beach plums and huckleberries, and slender drinking straws of dried Japanese knotweed, an inventive use for an invasive juggernaut that can bring strong gardeners to their knees.

something magical about wild

It draws us closer to the earth—and it’s delicious. Maybe it’s easy to romanticize this ease romantic.

“My husband and I had always traveled before Gillian was born, but you can’t really travel with a baby,” Karen says, explaining the genesis of The 3 Foragers. “So we began hiking in our local woods, and my husband, who’s from Hungary, was reminiscing about how in the spring, as a child, he would run through great expanses of these stinky plants that smelled like onions. And he’d say to me, ‘Do we have anything like that here?’”

It turns out they did: a delicate wild green called ramps, a spring staple of today’s urban farmers’ markets. To learn more about wild edibles, Karen and Robert tucked Gillian into a backpack and began traveling to New York City to study the landscape with “Wildman” Steve Brill, the nearest for aging expert. “We’d be walking along with Steve, and he’d show us a plant, and we’d hand it back to Gillian, in the backpack, and she’d eat it,” Karen says. “Kids put everything in their mouths.”

There’s something magical about wild food: It draws us closer to the earth, closer to those natural foragers, the animals and birds. Maybe it’s easy to romanticize this ease with nature, but it is romantic: going out into the landscape, finding delicious things to eat, cooking them in a beautiful way, and writing about it so that other peo ple can see and appreciate it. Imagine that your child’s favorite snacks include stinging nettles and cattails. Or fruit leather made from that pesky Japanese knotweed. It’s amazing what’s under our noses. “It becomes your lifestyle,” Robert says. “You have 30 minutes and you want to go out and find something. Every day we’re eating something that we foraged.”

And sharing that experience. The 3 Foragers blog is a chronicle, imaginative and informative, of a family’s growing passion and expertise. When Karen started it in 2009, there was little information about foraging, and “everyone had a blog on raising chickens or knitting.” One glance at the beauti ful

mulberry ricotta tart, violet jelly, acorn cupcakes—makes it obvious that the focus is on taste. “There’s a difference between survival foraging and doing it because it tastes great, it’s wonderful, and you love it,” Karen says firmly. “We don’t do survival foraging.”

Lately, over the past few years, Karen and Robert have begun to shift their focus to invasive species. Landconservation agencies are taking notice,

asking to reprint recipes that encourage using rapacious interlopers such as garlic mustard. “Many of our native plants are delicious, but are mildly threatened by these invasive plants, which are also technically delicious,” Karen notes. “So we can still eat some of the native plants, but do it more sustainably, and go over to the invasive species and eat the heck out of them. Because you can do no harm.”

Robert grins, “There’s a saying for If you can’t beat them, eat them.”

The next morning is a balmy midMay beauty. I join The 3 Foragers and 12 other would-be hunter-gatherers for a two-hour workshop excursion into the wilds of beautiful Flanders Nature Center & Land Trust in Woodbury, Connecticut. We scratch the bark of a black-cherry tree (it smells like almonds); we sniff black birch (spearminty, and a natural toothbrush); we take tiny tastes of sorrel; we admire stinging nettles from a distance.

Karen tells us about getting a call from Gillian’s school: “‘Your daughter is eating weeds in the schoolyard …’

ABOVE : Tisanes and decoctions (popularly known as “herbal teas”) made from an assortment of edible wild plants. LEFT : The 3 Foragers on a mission to find delicious edibles in the wild.

Tidbit Tips from Karen Monger

1. Check at least three sources for plant ID (better still, go with an expert). Many plants have poisonous lookalikes at different stages of development. “We try to spend a year with each plant before we start eating it,” Karen explains. ”That includes taking notes, lots of photos at every stage of growth, and verifying characteristics with a magnifier.”

2. Forage sustainably. “ If you have to dig the root or rhizome and kill the plant, I prefer not to work with that plant,” Karen advises. Ramps are a perfect example: “You can harvest them sustainably by popping off a leaf or two. But if you dig up the bulb, it’ll never reproduce again. Ramps are very slow-producing. A nd the leaves taste just as good as the bulb.”

3. Forage in your own backyard or on private land with permission. “Once a week I ask the farmer at our C SA if I can root around at the edges of his field, and I pick his weeds for him,” Karen notes. “Sometimes I accidentally get purslane in my vegetables, and I know everyone else is picking it out, but you can eat that. I feel like telling them, ‘You guys should be selling this as a gourmet edible!’”

4. Know the plant’s status. Is it native, invasive, abundant, or endangered? Never dig threatened or endangered plants, no matter how much you want to eat them!

To learn more, go to: the3foragers.blogspot.com

And we said, ‘It’s okay—she knows what she’s doing.’ And then we had to tell her, ‘Don’t do that in front of your friends.’”

We share a laugh, and let rectangles of Japanese knotweed fruit leather dissolve in our mouths.

“Tasty,” Gillian grins. And it is.

The Small-Town News Network

Want to find out what’s going on with your neighbors? Hang out at the local diner.

BY KEN SHELDON

ILLUSTRATION BY MARK BREWER

f you live in a small town, you have no secrets—which is bad if you’re in the witness-protection program, but good if you wonder where your kids are hanging out or where your chainsaw ended up. So how does all that news and gossip travel? We take you to the local diner, where we lift the lid on the small-town news network.

Behind the counter is Eleanor , who has been serving you breakfast ever since you moved to town and has your order in before your bottom hits the seat. Even the slightest variation in your regular order is a tipoff that you are: a) trying to lose that holiday weight gain; b) thinking about dating again; or c) still getting over the flu. Eleanor is a good listener, so be careful how loudly you tell your friend about that rash.

Lester is in charge of the town dump (a.k.a. the transfer station, because “transferring” your garbage sounds better than “dumping” it). He can tell that you have company coming because you just tossed out your old toilet seat. “That’s a dead giveaway,” Lester says, adding that folks generally replace toilet seats right before major holidays. “At any other time of the year, a new toilet seat is kinda suspicious.” Lester can also pro-

vide a fairly accurate estimate of your alcohol consumption based on your recycling.

Francine became head teller at the town bank the same year Edison invented the electric lightbulb. If you call her about your account, she doesn’t have to ask you security questions, like the name of your oldest nephew (the one who got in trouble with the law), the pet your parents told you ran away, or your first-grade teacher (the one who ran off with the gym teacher), because she already knows all those things. Francine does all the bank’s credit checks; basically, if she vouches for you, you’re good to go.

Beatrice , the town librarian, zealously guards the privacy of your reading matter, but she nevertheless can tell from your borrowing history that you’re a vegetarian, that you’re thinking about starting a dogsledding business, and that your kid has a report due on DNA. She also knows you’re considering a vacation to Africa—though your information may be somewhat dated since that Visitor’s Guide to Beautiful Botswana was published in 1967.

A vital part of the small-town news network, the town clerk, Walter, has the inside scoop on your house (taxes paid and unpaid, how much water you’re saving with that new toilet),

your cars (registered, unregistered, and parts only), and the fact that you need a new dump sticker. Walter also knows that you bought a new car you can’t really afford, what you’re really adding on to the back of your house, and that you signed the petition against giant inflatable lawn decorations, which was narrowly defeated at town meeting.

Bev, from Bev’s House of Beauty, has been doing the hair of most of the women in town for 35 years. She maintains a comprehensive database of information, organized for easy retrieval into a number of categories: Men (from Available to Soon to Be Available If He Keeps It Up); Children (Bragging Rights, They’re Killing Me, and Another One?); Friends (True, Fair Weather, and She Really Said That?); and Affairs (Foreign, Current, and You Didn’t Hear This From Me).

Ed , the town’s postmaster, has put together a pretty good profile of you based on your junk mail: Neither you nor your spouse belongs to an organized political party (he’s Republican, you’re Democrat); you once attended the First Church of the Last Times but now go to the Undecided Assembly of God; you belong to the Mushroom of the Month Club but only because your kids gave it to you for Christmas; and you finally joined AARP because it was the only way to stop them from sending you applications.

Ernie edits the local paper, a rich source of information for those who know where to look. Notices of property transfers alert locals when you arrive in town and when you finally decide to unload the old money pit. The police log lets folks know that your goat got loose, that the taillight on your Subaru burned out, and that your grandson accidentally punched 911 while playing with the phone. And the help-wanted ads are a tipoff that Earl finally got tired of Doreen showing up late for work at the market.

Mud Season Advice

Keep moving: As long as you keep moving, you’re alive.

Mud season is God’s way of letting New Englanders know they haven’t gotten to heaven yet.

Feign indifference: If the mud senses you’re afraid, you’re doomed.

If you have to travel alone, take along a mature beaver or a large dog that you can send off for help in an emergency.

Don’t take any dirt roads you’ve never been down before … The people who take them are never seen again.

Tie a bright-orange cloth around the top of your car antenna. People can use it to spot you and rescue you in the event you sink completely out of sight.

“Advice from a Mud Season Survivor,” by Kerry

James

WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG

O’Connor, March 1985

—Joan Benoit Samuelson (born May 16, 1957, in Cape Elizabeth, Maine). Samuelson is widely considered the greatest female long-distance runner in American history. A gold-medal winner of the women’s marathon at the 1984 Summer Olympics, she’s also a two-time women’s-division winner of the Boston Marathon. Still running in selected distance events, she continues to show that age is merely a number.

(MUD SEASON); KEVIN MORRIS (JOAN BENOIT SAMUELSON); BROS. KOZOWYK (ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADE)

USEFUL STUFF FROM 80 YEARS OF YANKEE

“I think women make good runners because they’re so good at multitasking, and it’s something they can fit into their busy schedules. Running is more accessible and affordable than a lot of other sports and fitness activities. It can also be very social, which draws women in.”

You need a sense of humor when spring thaw meets dirt roads.

A TALE OF TWO ST. PATRICK’S DAY PARADES

compiled

by Julia Shipley

1737

date of world’s first recorded St. Patrick’s Day parade, hosted by Boston’s Charitable Irish Society

20.4 percentage of Boston-area population claiming Irish heritage

1,200 pounds of corned beef and cabbage (combined) served at Boston’s Durgin–Park St. Patrick’s Day brunch

FOUR (approximate) miles: length of the parade route through South Boston

You can get th ere from here.

116 consecutive St. Patrick’s parades in South Boston (as of 2016)

250 marchers enlisted for 2016 (fourth annual) “World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade” in West Boylston, Massachusetts

600,000-1,000,000 spectators watching Boston’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade

36 feet: West Boylston’s “World’s Shortest” parade route, between the door of Finder’s Pub and the door of Keeper’s Pub

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What Makes a Collection Valuable?

Tips on how to get started and how to avoid costly mistakes.

BY JOE BILLS

ollecting is among our most basic human instincts. Whether we intentionally set out to or not, most of us collect something. Karen Keane knows this better than most: Now the CEO of one of the

Collect What Speaks to You

If you’re just starting a collection, potential value can be an important consideration, but Keane says the best place to start is by collecting what interests you. If your collection flows organically from you, you’ll enjoy building it, regardless of price range or market value.

Become a Connoisseur

“People often ask about

ibles. Then we all stopped throwing them away and started treating them like investments. “With baseball cards, it used to be that you could find a collection put together in the 1940s with some spiffy cards, or even better, you might find cards from the turn of the last century,” Keane notes. “Now what we usually see are boxed sets, never opened, from the 1980s. There’s so much of it, and nobody cares.”

“Limited Edition” Equals Limited Value

“I would caution people about getting caught up in the frenzy of objects that are made as ‘limited editions,’” Keane advises. “Rarity is one of the things that you need to consider when valuing a collection. If whatever you’re collecting is too easy to acquire, be aware that you may be going down a rabbit hole after something that will never be terribly valuable. Products that are designed as collectibles just don’t go anywhere. You can rarely get your money back.”

The Generation Gap

Certain classics may never go out of style, but tastes change. “As the Baby Boomers age out of the marketplace,” Keane says, “we’re looking to see who’s going to fill their shoes. What is this generation interested in?” Furniture from the 1970s, she notes, is at a price point where a younger person can afford it, “and their aesthetics are a little more open-minded. They’re still looking at things. To me, that 1970s sofa is just as legitimate as an Empire mahogany scroll-arm settee from 1820. It speaks to its time, it’s genuine, and it has historical relevance. It’s part of our material culture.”

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One Native American legend claims that the first sap bucket was never intended as such. The story goes that a Native American chief (most often Iroquois Chief Woksis) hurled his tomahawk at a maple tree, and the sap began to flow. The liquid dripped into a container on the ground below. Later, his wife, believing that the liquid was water, used it to cook venison, and maple syrup was “discovered.”

The first sap “buckets” were most likely rolled, folded birch-bark containers, which Native Americans would place on the ground beneath notches in maple trees. The collected sap would be concentrated by freezing it several times and then boiling it by dropping hot rocks into the container.

Europeans refined the process of collecting sap by drilling holes into the trees and attaching wooden spouts. They used buckets for collecting the sap and huge iron boiling pots to concentrate it into syrup or sugar.

Metal sap buckets came into popular use around 1875, following the advent of sheet metal. Prior to this, heavy oak and pine buckets were commonly used.

In the 1960s, plastic tubing started to replace metal buckets. Today, sap is collected by tubes that carry sap from the tree to a central container, or sometimes all

the way to the sugarhouse. The first plastic sap-gathering pipeline system was patented by Nelson Griggs of Montpelier, Vermont, in 1959.

In 1924, President Calvin Coolidge, who was running for reelection, invited three titans of American industry—Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and Harvey Firestone—to his family home in Plymouth Notch, Vermont. While there, Coolidge gave Ford a sap bucket that had been in his family for generations. It was signed by all three men, and

“the old Coolidge sap bucket” now hangs in historic Longfellow’s Wayside Inn—once owned by Ford—in Sudbury, Massachusetts.

In 2013, a crew at the Saugeen Bluffs Maple Festival in the Canadian province of Ontario fashioned what might be the largest sap bucket ever: a 1,000liter (264-gallon) giant that unofficially bested the previous record of a 594-liter (157-gallon) bucket, unveiled at the Elmira (Ontario) Maple Syrup Festival in 2000.

—compiled by Joe Bills

August

19, 1924: From left, Harvey Firestone, President Calvin Coolidge (autographing a wooden sap bucket), Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Russell Firestone, First Lady Grace Coolidge, Colonel John Coolidge (the president’s father).

Nearly two million gallons of maple syrup were produced in New England in 2015. Collecting enough sap (at 2% sugar content) to produce that much syrup would require more than 16,700,000 five-gallon buckets.

The GUIDE HOME

A series of loosely rendered figures of children in soft hues lean against the wall in Lauren Decatur’s second-floor studio. Her frame collection— empty frames are scattered throughout the house—inspires her painting. When the spirit strikes, she plucks one down, stretches a canvas to fit, and gets to work.

New Hampshire artist Lauren Decatur finds inspiration in the nature at her doorstep.

The House

BY MARNI ELYSE KATZ PHOTOGRAPHS BY RIKKI SNYDER

Tucked down a gravel road in a slow-paced southern New Hampshire town, Lauren Decatur’s clapboard New England cottage stands overlooking a farm, surrounded by horses, sheep, and cattle, with windows framing a perfect view of Mount Monadnock. She lives here with a puppy named Audrey—no relation to Hepburn, “but just as petite”—and from these rooms, she paints and sculpts magical, true-to-life animals out of raw wool, using notched needles, in a process called needle felting. This setting was serendipitous—she didn’t seek out a farm view—but she now finds comfort and inspiration in her good fortune. “Since I work primarily in wool,” she says, “it’s symbiotic that when I look out my windows, I see sheep.”

Decatur moved here just last fall, though she’s been living in the region for more than 10 years, having relocated from Massachusetts’ South Shore, where she raised her children. She likes that the area has a history of attracting writers, painters, and nonconformists, with a long-established artist’s retreat nearby serving as its cre-

ative heart. She’s renting this house, but she’s made it her own. From the first moment you enter, it’s clear that an artist’s hand is at work here, not just in the sculptures and paintings placed throughout, but in the design of the rooms themselves. Decatur insists that her approach to decorating is really no approach at all. Rather, she says, “I just

surround myself with the objects and colors I love. I don’t really think of it as ‘decorating.’” And yet her home is proof that the notion of an “artist’s eye”—that enviably innate ability to create spontaneous beauty—is real. Decatur favors a relaxed style influenced by an Old English sensibility, with muted colors (she’s used the

THIS PAGE , TOP LEFT : A painting in one of Decatur’s signature antique frames depicts a chipmunk eating out of her hands; above it hangs a sign reading “Don’t Feed the Animals,” given to her by her daughter. “That image was on my business card for the longest time,” she says. “Chipmunks used to wander into my house looking for food.” On the floor, three of Decatur’s felted yellow ducklings ascend a tiny makeshift plank.

TOP RIGHT AND BOTTOM LEFT : White walls and furnishings give the bedroom a bright and sunny feel.

BOTTOM RIGHT : A sampling of Decatur’s signature felted animals. OPPOSITE : Built-in shelving holds art books and family photos, punctuated with natural curiosities, including a spikey bird’s skull displayed in a brass-rimmed glass box, framed bugs, and a winding length of snakeskin tucked under a cloche. They’re “all the things nature leaves behind,” Decatur says. This room is also home to several felted friends, including a frolicking bear and a shaggy Sebastopol goose.

same paint colors for 20 years) and well-loved pieces. “I like a comfortable, broken-in look,” she says. Most important, she regards her home as a living studio, so it’s essential that her living spaces also function as workspaces. “I spend 10 to 12 hours a day making art; I use the entire house as studio space in one way or another,” she says. Nevertheless, she’s always

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ready for company. “I just toss my piles of wool into baskets, add a vase of flowers to a table, and nobody’s the wiser,” she says.

The spruce-green living room is bright and cozy, decorated with Oriental rugs, nature-walk finds, antiques, and beautifully displayed tools of her trade. A shabby-chic slipcover graces a roll-arm sofa with down cushions purchased 30 years ago at Bloomingdale’s. “My mother told me to spend money on upholstered furniture and lamps because those are pieces that last,” Decatur explains. “Well, here we are, many slipcovers later.” She’s collected white alabaster lamps from Italy for years because, like white furniture, they work everywhere.

Playful vignettes starring her handmade creatures are staged at every

OPPOSITE : A white felted bird hanging in front of the window sports feathers fashioned from strips of paper cut from a poetry book, each with a line about nature.

“I just surround myself with the objects and colors I love. I don’t really think of it as ‘decorating.’”

turn, transforming rooms into a sort of enchanted felted world. (One day, she hopes to turn these scenes into a series of children’s picture books.) Down on the floor, a parade of fuzzy ducklings ascend a tiny plank. Up on the wall, a parliament of felted owls perch on a reclaimed wooden shelf. “I’m most known for my owls,” she says. “They’re all true to size, with realistic markings.”

The felting studio is through French doors off the living room, in what would normally be considered the den. Decatur, however, hasn’t owned a television for more than a decade. Rag rugs are scattered across the wood floor. A worktable and cubbies hold skeins of wool in earth and jewel tones, along with felted critters both complete and in progress.

In the country kitchen, a long white linen-draped table, situated under a pair of windows with grand mountain views, does double duty for felting and eating. A marble slab that she’s been hauling around for 30 years—it once topped an old Victorian bureau—now sits on the counter for rolling out piecrusts.

Decatur’s bedroom, on the second floor across from her painting studio, is an airy haven with odd angles that magically reflect the sunlight. “When I peek in during the day,” she says, “it’s glowing.” The old Victorian bed, acquired on her travels and painted off-white, is dressed in pink printed sheets and vintage 1930s and ’40s floral pillowcases.

It’s in this room that Decatur displays sentimental tokens, such as old black-and-white photos of her parents; a framed sweater—a gift from a family friend—that she wore home from the hospital when she was born; and a childhood drawing of her mother on a chaise. “It’s the first portrait I ever made,” she says. “Of course there’s a butterfly; every picture that year had a butterfly.” Even then, nature was front and center.

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THE SLATE IMAGININGS OF Michael

Updike

In Newbury, Massachusetts, stories are etched into stone.

BY ANNIE GRAVES

PHOTOGRAPHS BY PAT PIASECKI

t starts as a ghost image—a dragonfly flitting across a fragment of slate. As Michael Updike leans in closer, he discards the white charcoal pencil he used to sketch the faint outline and reaches for a slender chisel and a small wooden mallet. I brace myself for the sound of nails on a blackboard. It’s so quiet here, at the edge of this shimmering salt marsh in Newbury, Massachusetts. Instead, there’s a soft and steady tap-tap-tap, like the sound of a raven rapping on glass. The dragonfly quickly emerges, first with basic scoring that intensifies the preliminary sketch; then in greater detail, as the chisel digs deeper, defining the body, giving depth and delicacy to the wings. Born from rough old stone, blooming like a fast-motion film, it feels no less miraculous than that real insect’s first flight.

the medium. And with these smaller wall hangings and decorative pieces, he gave himself license to simply make “a pretty object”—a fish, a crow, a seagull, a nest—focusing on material, texture, and carving, without much thought to the double meanings that often find their way into the gravestones that he also continues to create.

“The wings give it life. It’s not how a real dragonfly wing is, but nobody thinks that,” Updike grins. “It’s a suggestion—they read it as real.”

Hints and suggestions, little stories rendered in stone. Hardly surprising for this artistic younger son of novelist John Updike—and therefore fitting that all of these elements came together in 2011 when Michael first carved an intricate gravestone for his father, to be placed as a memorial in Plowville, Pennsylvania, where Updike had lived as a teenager. (His ashes are buried in Manchester, Massachusetts.)

“I decided that slate would be a good motif for my father’s stone,” says Michael, 55, who had studied sculpture and earned an MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. “It was a traditional New England material that would be traveling back to Pennsylvania—it kind of paralleled his life, which was from Pennsylvania but mostly Hawthornian New England. I carved his portrait as a soul effigy [an angel’s face flanked by wings, used on old gravestones]—it symbolizes a happy thought, that the soul is rising to heaven.”

Other personal touches followed: Tiny skeletons rising from the ground were a nod to Updike’s forgotten career as a cartoonist. Renditions of various signatures that marked different rela-

tionships in his life: “Johnny” to his parents; “jhu,” his cartooning signature; “Dad”; “Grandpa”; and, most formally, “John Updike.”

“The slate was very alluring because it was so immediate,” Michael recalls. “The end result was right in front of you. I really liked the physical act of designing it, carving it.”

Meanwhile, he was practicing on old slate shingles to get a deeper feel for

“They are what they are,” Michael says, of the smaller pieces scribed into roof tiles or shards of slate. “The tiles bear the scars, the paint drips, the tar, and the nail holes. In a way they’re relics of America’s past. On that piece of ‘found’ art I’m putting my own image.”

The slate is usurping his house. In the backyard, old school chalkboards overlook the salt marsh. Roof tiles lean against a garden wall. The garage is piled with boxes of slate fish, roosters, owls, and nests returning from one craft show and headed to the next. Larger pieces lurk nearby: A work-in-progress stone bench waits in the front yard (he works in granite, too); in the living room, a huge whale leans against the couch. Michael’s small studio, wedged between house and garage, spills over with chisels, hammers, saws, and drills. We hover over the workbench. Here, three tiles lie side by side, like serving platters, and a ghostly fish floats to the surface—head, middle, and tail.

“What you’re seeing, this was on a roof; the phantom part that’s whiter, that’s where it was covered,” he notes as he points intently. “And here’s where the joint between the two shingles was, dark.” The aged and mottled stone gives each carving its own shading. “They’re like unique pre-made canvases. And I’ll look at a piece and think, ‘That’s good for the squid; the squid will work well on this one.’”

Michael Updike’s smallest pieces sell for $50; roof tiles for $250. For more information, visit: michaelupdike.net

ABOVE : Michael Updike in his studio, with the tools of his trade. OPPOSITE : Sea creatures and insects emerge from scraps of slate.

Discovering Kennebunk’s Summer Street

Of the 17 gorgeous sea captains’ homes along it, several are currently available. And one is our favorite …

here are, of course, more than 17 historic sea captains’ homes within the borders of Kennebunk’s National Register Historic District, Maine’s very first historic district (established in 1963), but Summer Street is truly special. Meandering on foot along it recently, we passed by one historic mansion after another on both sides of the street— each one seemingly more elegant than the last. Some were built in the 1790s, the oldest in 1750. Many were occupied by multiple generations of the same family—the Lords, for instance, were involved with nine of them—and many owners were quite prominent, such as Hugh McCollach, who served in President Abraham Lin-

coln’s cabinet as well as in Presidents Andrew Johnson’s and Chester A. Arthur’s, too. The Taylor–Barry house at 22 Summer Street has 1820 stenciling on its hall walls by the famous itinerant artist Moses Eaton … and, well, listing all the significant historical features of the sea captains’ homes on Summer Street would require many pages.

One of the most famous of them all is the George W. Bourne House at 104 Summer Street, still known today as “the Wedding Cake House” because of its elaborate, wedding- cake -like trim. It was the subject of a Yankee feature back in June 1969, but because it wasn’t for sale at the time, we don’t know its price tag back then. Obviously it would have been a fraction of its value today.

Yankee likes to mosey around and see, out of editorial curiosity, what you can turn up when you go house hunting. We have no stake in the sale whatsoever and would decline it if offered.

TOP : The Ivory Lord House at 31 Summer Street, constructed in 1835 by sea captain and shipbuilder Ivory Lord. OPPOSITE , CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT : The kitchen’s clean lines; a hallway’s gleaming flooring and graceful staircase; the master bedroom, with one of the home’s eight fireplaces.

Which brings us to one of the most elegant and historically interesting of all those sea captains’ homes on Summer Street. We’re referring to the Ivory Lord House at 31 Summer Street, built in 1835 by one Ivory Lord, a sea captain in his younger days and then a major shipbuilder, responsible for many fine vessels launched on the Kennebec River. It’s on the market this spring, with just under four acres of very valuable land behind it, for $925,000. The owner for the past eight years has been Maureen Weaver, a divorced real-estate professional with three teenaged chil-

dren, who grew up in the William Lord Mansion at 20 Summer Street. And that’s just across the street! In other words, Maureen is a Kennebunk native to the core. Incidentally, we should make it clear here that Kennebunkport, with its summer tourist population, and Kennebunk, a solid year-round community, are two totally separate towns.

Anyway, Maureen, accompanied by Duchess, a very friendly (and very large) dog, greeted us on the spacious wraparound porch, a striking feature of the Ivory Lord House, probably an early influence of the Southern homes that Ivory Lord saw in the Carolinas and Louisiana when his ships sailed down there during those early years.

Then, over tea and scrumptious homemade muffins, we settled down

in the breakfast room—just off the totally remodeled kitchen and near the library, family room, and impressive “great room”—and were entertained by Maureen’s wonderful stories of growing up on Summer Street with her six siblings and oodles of neighboring children. “Even today,” Maureen said, “we get around 3,500 children trick-ortreating here on Summer Street every Halloween. They come from all over.”

During our subsequent tour a bit later, which included the five bedrooms (each with its own bathroom), eight fireplaces, and a separate in-law apartment, as well as the attached four-car garage, a shed, and an old-fashioned cow barn, Maureen listed off all the

ABOVE : The remodeled, light-filled kitchen features a spacious island, expansive cabinetry, and classic black-and-white checked flooring. RIGHT : Current owner Maureen Weaver with Duchess, her harlequin Great Dane. Maureen and her six siblings grew up on Summer Street. INSET BELOW : Captain Ivory Lord (1794–1868).

specific improvements and renovation projects completed over the past eight years. The total cost came to exactly $263,500. In other words, you can rest assured that the Ivory Lord House is in pristine condition. As we walked from room to room, she pointed out many historical details, too. For instance, high up on the barn wall (near the ceiling) is an old wooden door. “In there is where runaway slaves could hide,” she said, adding that black trim around one of the chimneys indicated that the house was part of the Underground Railroad. (Since then the chimney has been rebuilt, so no black trim anymore.) We were particularly intrigued by the beautifully curved wall in the family room, thought by some to deter evil spirits, and puzzled over the small metal frames in the middle of some of the old 19th-century windows. “They’re a mystery,” Maureen laughed.

By the time we’d finally said our goodbyes to Maureen (and, of course, Duchess) and were heading home on the Maine Turnpike later that afternoon, our head was swimming with all we’d seen and heard during our visit to Kennebunk’s historic Summer Street. Probably the only way to digest it all, we concluded, would be to live there. Wow—what a lovely dream.

For details, contact Maureen Adams Weaver, Legacy Properties/Sotheby’s Inter national Realty, 207-9670934 (office), 610-322-5832 (cell); mweaver@legacysir.com. Read classic HFS stories from our archives at: YankeeMagazine.com/house-for-sale

For historical information on Kennebunk, including the mansions on Summer Street, several of which, besides the Ivory Lord House, are currently on the market, contact Cynthia Walker at the Brick Store Museum: 207-985-4802; cwalker@brickstoremuseum.org

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The GUIDE FOOD

BY KEITH PANDOLFI

In Vermont’s Mad River Valley, maple producers are embracing innovation to preserve an age-old tradition.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY COREY HENDRICKSON FOOD AND PROP STYLING BY CATRINE KELTY

UST OUTSIDE WAITSFIELD,

I

pretending that the pain isn’t as bad as it seems. It’s an embarrassing moment. My snowshoe got caught beneath a fallen maple tree, and as I pulled my foot upward, I twisted my ankle a bit. It doesn’t ache too badly now, but I know it will later. This is what happens when a New England native moves away for a few decades and then tries to come home again. I stand up, dust the snow off my overcoat, and try to catch up with the rest of my party. ¶ Noticing that I’ve fallen behind, Dori Ross, a seasoned hiker, stops and lets out a shout: “We got ourselves a flatlander here!” She’s talking to Dave Hartshorn, a chiseled seventh-generation farmer who is far ahead of us, scurrying up a steep, icy hill on his 100-plus-acre sugarbush in the Mad River Valley. Ross is trying to get Hartshorn to slow down, but he’s well out of hearing range. Within seconds his fleece jacket turns into a small blue dot off in the snowy-white distance.

I can’t blame Hartshorn for his sense of urgency. It’s early springtime in Vermont, and he’s got work to do. Surveying this rippling landscape is part of his daily routine: one that usually starts at first light, when he wakes up, pours a few cups of coffee, and sets out to check the miles of multicolored plastic tubes that run among nearly

5,000 maple taps. Those tubes are his lifeblood. He has to make sure that neither wandering wildlife nor fallen trees nor in attentive bushwhackers have obstructed them. They transfer the sap to a vacuum pump in his century-old sugar shack; the pump in turn transfers it to a reverse-osmosis machine that pulls water from the sap until it reaches

a sugar concentration of 68 percent. That’s when that most sacred of New England rituals begins: the sugaring.

Hartshorn makes some of the best maple syrup I’ve ever tasted—something I discovered the following morning as I poured some over a stack of chef Charlie Menard’s pancakes at The Inn at Round Barn Farm back in Waits -

VERMONT,

PUSH MYSELF UP FROM THE SNOW-COVERED GROUND,

field. Dori Ross tells me that the flavor has to do with the undulating nature of Hartshorn’s sugarbush, the steep south-facing hillsides, the rich soil, and the deep-rooted trees all working together to produce a syrup with a sweetness that’s far more complex than any other I’ve tasted. Just like wine, it seems that syrup has its own terroir.

Ross knows a lot about these nuances. In 2012, she founded Tonewood Maple, which takes syrups produced by the Hartshorns and another local family, the Vasseurs, and packages them into slim, sleek bottles that look right at home on the shelves of your local gourmet food store. She’s brought their products to upscale marketplaces such as Williams–Sonoma, Barneys, and the popular culinary site Food52 To Ross, it’s a way of helping smallerscale farmers combat encroaching forces such as increased competition from Canada (Quebec remains the number-one producer of maple syrup worldwide), variable fuel costs, and

warming temperatures, which are already making sugaring seasons more precarious and far less predictable.

Fancy packaging isn’t Ross’s only game, though. She also sells value-added products, including maple flakes, maple wafers, and a seven-ounce cube of maple sugar that can be shaved over oatmeal, yogurt, or ice cream. Just as, over the past decade or so, Vermont’s dairy farmers have learned to produce farmstead cheeses in response to an unstable market for commodity milk, now maple producers are learning to do more with their own raw products. And those products have won national recognition, including an Editors’ Choice Food Award from Yankee in 2014 and a 2014 SOFI award for “Outstanding Product Line.” (The SOFI—Specialty Outstanding Food Innovation—is considered the Oscar of the specialty-foods world.)

Ross and I had planned on joining Hartshorn and his family for some sugaring tonight, but the weather is working against us. At just 30 degrees, it’s

still too cold for the sap to run, but the local weatherman is calling for warmer temperatures tomorrow. I hope he’s right. There’s something inspiring, even humbling, about watching Vermont syrup makers at work. It reminds us how much labor goes into producing that magical sweetener we pour onto our pancakes. And it reminds us how generations of families still come together in a ramshackle sugar shack somewhere in the woods: the crockpot in the corner filled with baked beans, maybe a stew; the bustle of fathers and mothers and sons and daughters working around a wood-fired evaporator, pulling samples, testing consistency, and pouring the finished product into small plastic jugs adorned with the kinds of New England winter scenes that would make Norman Rockwell’s heart melt.

That’s not to say that things haven’t changed dramatically since Rockwell’s time. These days, sugaring is almost as much about technology as it is about tradition. Instead of metal buckets and hammered-in taps, maple sap is now harvested through elaborate systems of plastic tubing. Reverse-osmosis machines extract the water from the sap before it’s sent to the evaporator, cutting boiling time and using fewer carbon-emitting fossil fuels. The evaporators themselves are better insulated and more fuel-efficient, too. By making sugaring more environmentally friendly, producers hope to ensure the long-term survival of their own trade and of the sugarbush itself.

For Ross, convincing two deeply rooted Vermont families to go into business with her was a challenge. In an insular town like Waitsfield, strangers are often viewed with suspicion. Ross grew up in Canada and spent 15 years in marketing in Toronto before she and her husband decided 10 years ago to make their Vermont vacation house their fulltime residence. By that measure, many here would consider them little more than 10-year tourists.

Despite her outsider status, Ross

OPPOSITE : Dave Hartshorn at left with his father, Paul Hartshorn, and marketing partner Dori Ross at the Hartshorn sugarbush outside Waitsfield, Vermont. ABOVE : Ice cream and strawberries are even better wth Tonewood’s maple sugar grated over the top.

ingratiated herself with Hartshorn and his partner, Amy Todisco, at the Waitsfield Farmers’ Market, where she sold homemade granola for a time. She struck up a friendship with Cristal Vasseur, a teacher at the elementary school that Ross’s children were attending, around the same time. She persuaded them that there was a way to distinguish their products in a crowded marketplace and pitched the idea of launching an adopta-tree program that functions much like a maple CSA: Customers would pay in advance to reap a portion of the harvest, and also receive photos and background information on “their” tree. “They thought I was crazy at first,” Ross says. “‘Who’s going to adopt a maple tree?’ they asked. If they hadn’t trusted me, this never would have happened.”

In the end, both families gave Ross the benefit of the doubt. There was little argument that the added income from the adoptions, as well as the cuts they receive from Tonewood’s sales, would come in handy in a place where syrup makers almost always have two, three, or even five additional sources of income to help them get by. Hartshorn, for example, also sells his own hydroponic fruits and vegetables at a local farmstand, while Amy runs a wellness retreat on their farm each summer. Ross purchases the syrup from the families at a higher rate than other buyers and donates one percent of all sales to the Proctor Maple Research Center at the University of Vermont, which works to improve harvesting technology, promote sustainable farming practices, and boost production.

As promised, the following day brings warmer temperatures. And since my ankle isn’t as sore as I’d feared, I spend the day taking in some of Waitsfield’s culinary pleasures—the butter-

FROM TOP : Steve Vasseur and his uncle, Bob Vasseur, with Dori Ross at their sugarhouse in Fayston, Vermont; Bob Vasseur, patriarch of the family opera tion, checks the syrup in the evaporator.

MAPLE AFFOGATO WITH CHAI MAPLE SYRUP (RECIPES ON P. 56)

WHOLE-WHEAT MAPLE–CRANBERRY SCONES (RECIPE ON P. 54)

MAPLE- & RUM-GLAZED PORK ROAST (RECIPE ON P. 55)

SPINACH, FETA & GRAPE SALAD WITH MAPLE–SOY VINAIGRETTE (RECIPE ON P. 56)

milk pancakes at the Big Picture café and movie theater; the insanely delicious tamales at Mad Taco—before meeting up with Ross to visit the Vasseur Brothers Dairy & Maple Sugar Farm in the nearby town of Fayston.

Inside the sugarhouse, Ross introduces me to 82-year-old Bob Vasseur, who gives me a quick handshake before rushing back to his evaporator to check on the color and consistency of the syrup. With him are his sons, Jay and Jeff; Jay’s wife, Natalie; his nephew Steve; and a blur of Jay’s and Jeff’s old high-school friends who have stopped by to offer some help. Although they might be up until 2:00 a.m. sugaring, these guys all have day jobs they’ll have to wake up for tomorrow morning. Steve works for an affordable-housing nonprofit; Jay is a carpenter; and Jeff is a stoneworker.

I arrive hoping that Vasseur can give me some background on the family, but he’s just too busy. Luckily, Ross fills me in. She tells me that the sugarhouse dates back to the 1930s, when Vasseur moved to town with his father, a Vermonter, and his Canadian mother. Vasseur’s brother Spike was the backbone of the operation until he passed away a few years back. Since then, the entire family, including Spike’s son, Steve, has pulled together to try to fill his shoes. “Sometimes, Bob will have a grandchild in one hand while he stirs the boiling sap with the other,” Ross tells me.

Although the evaporating pan they’re using dates back to God knows when, Steve, by far the most animated of the bunch, tells me that they’re working with a new arch (the base of the evaporator) this year. “It’s just like our old one,” he explains, “but more energyefficient”—a little too energy-efficient, if you ask him. “The thing’s so insulated that it barely gives off any heat,” he complains. I soon see what he means as the snow-soaked boots I’m wearing turn cold as ice. To warm everyone up, there’s a crockpot full of pasta in the corner. Natalie, who’s manning the filter tank,

which removes residual sand and crystals, made it last night. I ask Steve where all the beer is, since sugaring almost always involves large quantities of beer. “We hid it because we knew you were coming,” he quips.

The Vasseurs have sugared about five times so far this season, averaging around 50 gallons of syrup per session. “Yep, that’s Golden Delicate,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, as he holds a sample of finished syrup against a row of bottles that range in color from pale yellow to red amber. Those bottles are handed out by the state of Vermont

bottle of good spring water with a hint of maple sweetness.

Outside, the woods have taken on a fairy-tale twilight blue. More people— friends of the Vasseurs and extended family—are coming in and out of the sugar shack. As Ross and I head out in her truck, we catch Steve’s daughter, Lily, and one of her friends sitting in the snow, staring at the stars. “Can you see the Big Dipper?” Ross asks, and Lily traces it with her finger against the sky. “Lily keeps singing made-up songs,” her friend complains to us. Ross asks Lily to sing one, and she immediately obliges: “The stars are always shining bright … They always cast such a beautiful light … But we may never reach them …”

As we head down the Vasseurs’ long driveway back toward town, Ross gives me a word of advice: “Be sure you put that in your story,” she says. And as I scribble the song down in my reporter’s notebook, I promise her I will.

WHOLE-WHEAT MAPLE–CRANBERRY SCONES

to help producers grade their syrups against a new official system. Instead of “Grade A,” “Grade B,” and so on, the state has come up with a more descriptive system that many officials think will help market the syrups overseas. Steve isn’t crazy about the change. “Be careful with that,” he yells at me sarcastically as I inspect a sample bottle of syrup. “That’s Golden Delicate.”

Once things settle down a bit, Steve takes Ross and me upstairs to a small loft-like area where the reverseosmosis machine and the tanks that store its runoff water are located. “You could sell this stuff like Powerade,” Steve says as he submerges a cup into the runoff and takes a swig. “People would love it.” (In fact, some already do sell it, including Vermont’s Tretap and a Quebec company called DrinkMaple.) Following his example, Ross and I give it a try. It’s definitely refreshing, like a

TOTAL TIME : 45 MINUTES ; HANDS- ON TIME : 20 MINUTES

Maple syrup adds sweetness, cran berries bring welcome tartness, and wholewheat flour lends a nutty flavor and a pleasing heartiness.

FOR THE SCONES:

1

cups whole-wheat flour

1

cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder 1

teaspoon table salt

1

1 cup frozen cranberries Maple Glaze

FOR THE MAPLE GLAZE:

3/

1

cup powdered sugar

tablespoons water

1 tablespoon maple syrup

They might be up until 2:00 a.m. sugaring, but these guys all have day jobs they’ll have to wake up for in the morning.

Preheat your oven to 425° and set a rack to the middle position. In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, and salt until combined. Using a pastry cutter or fork, work in the butter until it forms pea-sized bits; then use your fingers to rub the butter into the flour, creating a blend of powder, flakes, and some remaining small lumps of butter. Pour in the syrup and 1 /3 cup of milk, and stir well with a fork. If needed, add another tablespoon or two of milk to form a dough. Use a spatula to fold in the cranberries.

Turn the dough out onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, and, with well-floured hands, press into an 8-inch circle. Cut into 8 equal wedges (no need to separate them). Bake until puffed and golden brown on top, 20 to 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, make the glaze: Whisk together the powdered sugar, water, and maple syrup until smooth.

Let the scones cool until barely warm; then drizzle with maple glaze. Serve with butter, jam, or whipped cream. Yield: 8 scones

MAPLE& RUM-GLAZED PORK ROAST

TOTAL TIME : 1 HOUR 30 MINUTES ;

HANDS- ON TIME : 35 MINUTES

We love how the rum-spiked sauce in this dish cooks down to a silky glaze, scented with maple, mustard, and cinnamon. It’s a wonderfully simple roast to make— easy enough for every day, but special enough for company.

1 3-pound boneless pork-loin roast, tied at intervals with kitchen twine for even shape

2 teaspoons plus 1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt

1 cup maple syrup

3 tablespoons Dijon mustard

3 tablespoons apple-cider vinegar

1 tablespoon dark rum

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Preheat your oven to 375° and set a rack to the lowest position. Sprinkle the pork all over with 2 teaspoons of salt and let it sit 10 minutes.

Now make the glaze: In a mediumsize bowl, stir together the maple syrup, mustard, cider vinegar, rum, cinnamon, pepper, and remaining 1¼ teaspoons of salt until blended.

Place the pork, fat side down, in a 9x13-inch roasting pan, and pour the glaze over the meat. Transfer to the oven and cook 30 minutes, basting halfway through.

Remove the meat from the oven, turn it fat side up, baste, and return it to the oven. Cook, basting every 15 minutes, until the meat reaches 150° when an instant-read thermometer is inserted into the center, 30 to 40 minutes more. Remove the meat from the oven and let it rest 10 to 15 minutes. Slice and serve with additional glaze on the side.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

SPINACH, FETA & GRAPE SALAD WITH MAPLE–SOY VINAIGRETTE

TOTAL TIME : 30 MINUTES ;

HANDS- ON TIME : 30 MINUTES

This delicious maple-infused dressing is adapted from chef Charlie Menard of The Inn at Round Barn Farm, in Waitsfield, Vermont. We loved it with spinach, feta, and grapes, but it also pairs perfectly with fresh spring strawberries and chèvre, or, in the fall, with blue cheese and pears. The recipe makes enough dressing for two or three salads; keep the remainder in the refrigerator for a couple of weeks and bring it to room temperature before serving.

Note: To make quick work of halving grapes, cherry tomatoes, or other small fruit, place a handful between two deli container lids (rims facing each other); run a sharp knife carefully between the rims, and voilà! Several grapes halved with just one cut.

FOR THE SALAD:

8 ounces baby spinach leaves

1 1/2 cups halved red grapes

5 ounces crumbled feta

1 cup roughly chopped walnut halves, preferably toasted

FOR THE DRESSING:

1/4 cup Vermont maple syrup

2 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce

2 tablespoons red-wine vinegar

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

First, make the salad: Layer the spinach, grapes, feta, and walnuts in a large salad bowl. Set aside.

Now make the dressing: In a mason jar or other canister with a tightly fitting lid, combine the maple syrup, soy sauce, vinegars, shallot, and mustard. Shake well. Add the oil and shake until blended. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Drizzle the salad with about a third of the dressing and toss gently to coat. Taste a leaf of spinach and add more dressing if desired.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

CHAI MAPLE SYRUP

TOTAL TIME : 22 MINUTES ;

HANDS- ON TIME : 5 MINUTES

Infusing maple syrup with ginger, cardamom, and cinnamon—a trick we learned from chef Charlie Menard—adds a warming kick to your pancakes, oatmeal, tea, ice cream, or even cocktails. We recommend serving it with our favorite “Dutch Baby Pancake.” Find the recipe on our website at: YankeeMagazine.com/Dutch-Baby

2 cups maple syrup

2 cinnamon sticks

2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

Place all ingredients into a mediumsize saucepan over medium-high heat and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat and keep hot (but below a simmer) 12 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool 5 minutes. Strain the syrup and enjoy.

Yield: 2 cups of syrup

MAPLE AFFOGATO

TOTAL TIME : 20 MINUTES ; HANDS- ON TIME 5 MINUTES

Traditionally made with espresso, this maple-infused version of a popular Italian dessert works just as well with dark-roasted coffee. It’s one of the simplest desserts you’ll ever make, but it offers a wonderful contrast of hot coffee and cold ice cream, delicate vanilla and rich coffee flavor.

4 large scoops vanilla gelato or vanilla ice cream

1 1/2 tablespoons maple syrup, warmed in microwave

1/2 cup hot freshly brewed dark-roast coffee or espresso

Garnish: 1/2 teaspoon Tonewood maple flakes (optional)

Chill four small glasses or bowls in the freezer at least 15 minutes. Put 1 scoop of ice cream in each bowl. Stir the warmed maple syrup into the coffee and pour over the ice cream. Top with maple flakes if desired. Yield: 4 servings

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Sweetest Gift

BY AIMEE SEAVEY PHOTOGRAPH BY COREY HENDRICKSON

s a young wife and mother in Peabody, Massachusetts, in the early 1960s, Alice Generazzo wasn’t passionate about cooking, but soon learned that it was enough to make a handful of dishes exceptionally well. Most of them reflected the tastes of her husband’s Italian roots—things like quarts of homemade tomato sauce, thick with sausages and meatballs. But somewhere along the way, a recipe for chocolate whoopie pies also became a family favorite, especially among her five children.

“I always used to tell people that my mother made the best whoopie pies,” remembers her daughter, MaryAnn, and, decades later, she still believes it. Those handheld chocolate cakes filled with thick cream were an eagerly anticipated childhood treat, made only a few times a year for special occasions. “They were so chocolaty,” she recalls, “and we didn’t have to cut them in half to share. They weren’t perfect circles, but they were all the same size, which was probably more important when you’re talking about five kids.”

Alice made her whoopie treats for several years, but eventually, to save time, she switched to graham-cracker-crust pies made with boxed pudding mix. But MaryAnn never forgot the memory of her childhood favorite. Late last year, when she came across her mother’s handwritten recipe card, it felt like a gift.

Now 88, with her baking days behind her, Alice struggles with Alzheimer’s disease and the increasing aches and pains of old age. On a good day, she remembers that MaryAnn is her daughter. On a bad day, it can take a minute.

ABOVE : Classic chocolate whoopie pies with vanilla cream filling, a New England favorite for generations. For a delicious variation, try our recipe for pumpkin whoopie pies with sweet maple filling, available at: YankeeMagazine.com/Whoopie. TOP : Alice Generazzo with daughter MaryAnn (the author’s mother) and son Al, c. 1961.

How an old-fashioned recipe for whoopie pies became one family’s memory to savor.

FOOD AND PROP STYLING BY CATRINE KELTY

COURTESY OF MARYANN WALSH (FAMILY PHOTO)

“Having her recipe now is very special, but a little bittersweet,” MaryAnn says. “It makes me feel connected to her, and reminds me of being little and watching her in the kitchen, but it also makes me a little bit sad, because I’d love to know where she got the recipe in the first place, and I wish I could ask her.”

In place of that conversation, she brought the recipe home and framed it. “I’d never attempted to make them before, and I knew I wanted to do that with you,” she says, meaning me, because I’m her daughter.

So that’s exactly what we did one Saturday afternoon. Together, in my mother’s kitchen, we made a batch of Alice’s Whoopie Pies, and then, because you can lose your memory but never your sweet tooth, we wrapped up a few of the best ones to bring to her.

Taking a bite myself, I delight in the chocolate cake and sugary cream, but more than that, I savor the experience. The tradition. And, of course, the love. I think it’s true: You really can taste it.

ALICE’S OLD-FASHIONED WHOOPIE PIES

TOTAL TIME : 1 HOUR ;

HAND - ON TIME : 30 MINUTES

FOR THE CAKES:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

2/3 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup milk

Preheat your oven to 350° and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium-size bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping the bowl after each addi-

tion. Add the vanilla extract; then add the milk and the dry ingredients, alternating, and mix until just combined.

Spoon heaping tablespoons of batter, roughly 3 inches apart, onto the prepared baking sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes, rotating halfway through, until the cakes are set and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to wire racks to cool completely.

FOR THE FILLING:

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour

1 cup milk

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup vegetable shortening

1 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Combine the flour and milk in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Whisk continuously until the mixture thickens, like pudding, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and press through a finemesh strainer into a mixing bowl. Cool to room temperature.

Once the mixture has cooled, add the remaining ingredients and beat until fluffy and creamy, about 10 minutes.

Spread filling onto the flat bottom of one cake; then top with another. Repeat with the remaining filling and cakes. For a nicer presentation, put the filling into a large zip-top bag, snip off one corner, and pipe a thick spiral onto the flat bottom of one cake, then top with another. Repeat with the remaining filling and cakes.

Yield: about 15 pies

Looking for more New England recipes like this one? Each issue, we profile a family favorite in our “Recipe With a History” column. We’re looking for great stories that capture the spirit of our region and its people. Got a family story that you’d like to share? E-mail editors@yankeepub.com and put “Recipe With a History” in the subject heading.

taste the sweetness

The GUIDE TRAVEL

CHESTER

BY ANNIE GRAVES

n very short order, we walked past a French restaurant, a British gift shop, and an Italian pottery store carrying wares from Deruta, all tucked along the sinuous Main Street in Chester, Connecticut. We, in turn, were passed by a Tour de France–attired cyclist intent on the horizon, smatterings of friendly locals, and a young girl riding a very tall horse. Who doesn’t yearn for a compact downtown that’s beautiful, friendly, and cosmopolitan, while hugging close its small-town New England character?

But let’s be clear—there’s fusty old New England and then there’s the slightly offkilter version. Though settled in 1692, Chester is a bit Auntie Mame, with her “life is a banquet” feel to it—as if it’s constantly on the verge of something happening, which is pretty much true. This colorful 19th-century village, entwined with the rushing Pattaconk Brook, hosts a full dance card of high-spirited events to keep its 4,000 residents entertained: Winter Carnivale, Memorial Day and Halloween parades, a colorful Sunday farmers’ market, the Fourth of July Road Race, August’s Chester Fair (since 1877), and even a townwide tag sale in May.

A compact Connecticut downtown that’s beautiful, friendly, and cosmopolitan, while hugging close its small-town New England character.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY CARYN B. DAVIS

COULD YOU LIVE HERE? CHESTER

From Gillette Castle, a sweeping view takes in the historic Chester–Hadlyme Ferry crossing the Connecticut River.

RIGHT : All roads converge in Chester’s colorful center.

It’s also an artists’ enclave. Wide sidewalks meander past notable restaurants and galleries, with plenty of room to accommodate baby strollers—a walking town that “draws creative people,” according to one shopkeeper, and a “great town for kids and dogs,” says another. But its roots are curled around history, too. Beginning April 1, the 1769 Chester–Hadlyme Ferry runs passengers over to eccentric Gillette Castle, dribbled onto its cliff like an oversized sandcastle. The Old Burying Ground creaks with tombstones from the 1700s, and the 1868 Chester Fife & Drum is one of the oldest continuously active such corps in the U.S. If, in a madcap Mame moment, you decide to join its ranks, the lessons, in true small-town spirit, are free of charge. They want more players.

The Setting

Just two hours from New York City and two hours from Boston, Chester settles into the nooks and crannies of hilly terrain on the banks of the Connecticut River, 10 miles north of Long Island Sound.

It’s an area riddled with water. Pattaconk Brook ducks under Main Street, threading its way through the village, a reminder of the waterpower crucial to its mill history. Breezy Cedar Lake has a large public beach on Route 148, just 2.5 miles from downtown, and Pattaconk Lake offers swimming and fishing in Connecticut’s secondlargest state forest, Cockaponset.

The town itself is all curves, like a river, and it’s decked out like a riverboat

TOP : Tucked into a historic stone building dating from 1909, the Connecticut River Artisans co-op sells pottery ( ABOVE ) stained glass, and fine art.

with flags, balconies, and awnings. Six roads radiate from the center, where Simon’s Marketplace, the gourmet general store, is a focal point and gathering place.

“Solitude when you need it, engagement when you want it,” says resident Morley Safer of 60 Minutes. “Walden Pond meets Broadway.”

Social Scene

It’s clearly a dog-friendly town, as the abundance of fur testifies, so you’ll probably make friends easily with man’s best friend in tow.

A family-owned, 93-room luxury inn. This AAA Four Diamond hotel features two great restaurants, 23 replaces, an indoor heated pool and is fully handicapped accessible. Select pet-friendly rooms available. Walk to the best shopping on the Maine coast and the Amtrak Downeaster train station. Ask about our Yankee Getaway Package. Book direct for complimentary breakfast and afternoon tea. 162 Main Street • Freeport, ME 04032 800-342-6423 • www.harraseeketinn.com

If you opt not to join the Chester Fife & Drum Corps or the active Chester Historical Society (but don’t skip its engrossing Chester Museum at The Mill—the setting alone, with waterfalls and a view of Pattaconk Brook rushing toward town, is worth the price of free admission), do as longtime resident and Willow Tree shop owner Donna Barnes suggests. Visit the charming stone Chester Public Library: “It’s teeny but well-established, or head for Simon’s, where everyone in town goes for morning coffee.”

Or plunge into the local music scene: Impressionist painter Leif

It’s an artists’ enclave.

Wide sidewalks meander past notable restaurants and galleries: a walking town that ‘draws creative people.’

Farm collectibles and primitives meet dashes of midcentury modern at Chester Americana Antiques & Gallery, owned by graphic artist Bill Vollers.

Nilsson holds concerts in his Spring Street Studio & Gallery during the winter; come summer, the jam sessions move outside, into the artist’s backyard.

Eating Out

The smart thing would be to eat your way up one side of the street and down the other. Because if you do, you’ll experience a parade of creative chefery as well as gain a good sense of what the locals are growing.

Restaurant L&E, wrapped in coppery warmth, serves contemporary French in its intimate downstairs dining room; upstairs, its sister, The Good Elephant, melds Vietnamese with French. The Pattaconk 1850 Bar & Grille, festooned with flags, celebrates “the largest beer selection in the River Valley.”

Can’t choose between River Tavern’s crispy tofu and OTTO’s lamb meatball–ricotta–pecorino–mint pizza pie? No worries, it’s the same owner.

Be gin a tradition

in the heart of Ogunquit .

Let us help you begin a Maine tradition today.

Shopping

The galleries up and down Main, Spring, and River streets promise to cover your walls or deck your halls with “curated” goodies of every persuasion—paintings, posters, photos, and more. For a trip to Italy minus

‘Curated’ goodies of every persuasion— paintings, posters, photos, and more— adorn Chester’s galleries and shops.

the jetlag, Ceramica offers fine Italian pottery from Tuscany and Umbria, but also tosses in a fun mix of older pieces at reasonable prices. Both Connecticut River Artisans and Maple & Main highlight the work of Connecticut artists.

And if you’re hoping to revive your wardrobe, The Willow Tree goes back in time with trippy vintage clothing at vintage prices.

Real Estate

Surprisingly affordable, the listings at the time of this writing included a prime downtown commercial building with a second-floor apartment, listed at $359,900. Within strolling distance to town, a circa-1925 three-bedroom

home with heated garage was selling for $284,900.

Resident Perks

Anyone with musical leanings will appreciate the free lessons offered by the Chester Fife & Drum Corps. Expanding on the music theme, there’s the highly regarded Norma Terris Theatre, an offshoot of Goodspeed Opera House (in nearby East Haddam), where Broadway musicals get their start: more than 50 thus far, including 25 world premieres. And if you have an urge to check out Broad-

way itself, you can always catch the train to NYC from Old Saybrook, just 11 miles away.

Getting Your Bearings

Chester used to have its own inn, which means the timing is right for anyone who wants to open a B&B. Meanwhile, the Riverwind Inn in Deep River, about a mile and a half away, is a lovely and comfortable B&B; about 11 miles away, The Bee & Thistle Inn offers 10 pretty rooms in Old Lyme’s historic district, right next door to the Florence Griswold Museum.

More photos at: YankeeMagazine.com/ Chester

The Bianco Martinis from New York City perform gypsy jazz at Leif Nilsson’s Spring Street Studio & Gallery for his “Concerts in the Garden” series.

Taste the sweetness of Vermont on Trapp Family Lodge’s Maple Sugar Tour—a casual, 1-mile hike around the property, where you’ll learn about the centuriesold tradition and enjoy a tasty maple treat. Every March, when the days become longer and warmer, the Trapp Family Lodge’s sugarhouse starts the process of maple sugaring the old-fashioned way, using buckets, a sled, and a team of draft horses to collect the sap. They then boil the sap down in a very large, wood-fired evaporator. The sap and the sugaring process are completely organic, using no chemicals, pesticides, or herbicides.

802-253-8511 • TrappFamily.com/tours.htm

“Home Away from Home” is the most common review left by guests of Stowe’s Brass Lantern Inn. More than just a place to sleep, the innkeepers’ attention to detail creates a unique Vermont experience. Start your day basking in the sunny breakfast room, relax in the Inn’s living room next to the wood-burning fireplace, or find yourself immersed in a game of scrabble in the expansive game room. And the views! The inn boasts one-ofa-kind views of Mt. Mansfield – the highest point in Vermont. 800-729-2980 • BrassLanternInn.com

Beyond Stowe’s scenic beauty and outdoor adventures is a thriving shopping scene, with over 70 unique stores and boutiques. Ferro Estate & Custom Jewelers, a third generation, full-service jeweler, is a “must-see” when visiting the village’s charming Main Street. From estate jewelry, to fine diamonds to custom designs, you won’t be able to resist bringing home a special reminder of your Stowe vacation. Of particular note, don’t miss their Vermont covered bridge, diamond snowflakes, alpine skiers, or dairy cow charms (among many others)!

FerroJewelers.com/stowe

There’s no better way to explore the natural beauty of Stowe than by travelling along the designated Green Mountain Byway. Get your cameras ready. The stunning views of open meadows, farmland, and forests, all with a spectacular mountain backdrop, are a sight to treasure. Historic homes, farmsteads, villages, mill sites, Waterbury Reservoir and three state parks are accessible along the route—as is the area’s most prominent natural feature, Mount Mansfield— providing ample opportunities for recreation.

GreenMountainByway.com

When You Go: Stowe is home to three of Vermont’s famous covered bridges, one of which, Gold Brook Bridge (a.k.a. Emily’s Bridge), is supposedly haunted by a local farmer’s daughter who was deserted by her lover in the 19th century. We’ll leave it to you to learn the rest of the story. To visit the bridge, go 3.5 miles south from Stowe on Route 100 to Gold Brook Road, turn left, then travel 1.2 miles and turn left on Covered Bridge Road.

PACK YOUR BAGS • STOWE

Out About

MASSACHUSETTS PATRIOTS’ DAY REENACTMENTS

APRIL 16–18

Where better to commemorate Patriots’ Day, which marks the Battles of Lexington and Concord and the start of the American Revolution, than on the very ground where so much history happened 241 years ago? Thousands of people visit Minuteman National Park during the annual Patriots’ Day festivities. This year, don’t miss the Tower Park battle reenactment on Saturday in Lexington. Show up early and you may have an opportunity to tip a pre-fight pint with British and Colonial reenactors at Munroe Tavern. Beyond the battlefield, Lexington, Concord, and the surrounding towns serve up a weekend jam-packed with Patriotic fun. Lexington & Concord, Massachusetts. 978-369-6993; nps.gov/mima/index.htm

Patriot reenactors make their way toward Concord’s North Bridge.

Yankee ’s guide to top events this season …

CONNECTICUT SHEEP, WOOL & FIBER FESTIVAL

APRIL 30

More than 60 vendors fill Vernon’s Tolland County Agricultural Center, offering shearing demonstrations, educational lectures, knitting instruction, sheepdog trials— and, of course, plenty of fleece, wool, fiber, and yarn for sale. Now in its 107th year, this New England tradition will appeal to the general public and enthusiasts alike. Vernon, CT. ctsheep.org

MAINE MAINE MAPLE

SUNDAY

MARCH 20

Sugarhouses across the state open their doors, offering syrup samples and demonstrations. Many farms offer games, activities, treats, tours, music, and more, so be sure to check the website for a map of participants and an updated list of events. Statewide. mainemaple producers.com

NEW HAMPSHIRE THE MOTH MAINSTAGE

MARCH 19

Settle in for an evening of true stories, told live at Portsmouth’s Music Hall. The Moth series features a mix of national storytellers and local voices, including luminaries in the arts and sciences, newsmakers and news breakers, heroes, and even the occasional villain. The Moth has reinvented storytelling for modern audiences. Portsmouth, NH. 603-436-2400; themusichall.org

RHODE ISLAND HARLEM GLOBETROTTERS

MARCH 20, 26

Celebrating 90 years as perhaps the greatest show in sports entertainment, the Harlem Globetrotters bring their one-of-a-kind spectacle to Providence’s Dunkin’ Donuts Center for two nights. Their ball-handling wizardry, rim-rattling dunks, trick shots, hilarious comedy, and unequaled fan interaction, including postgame autograph and photo opportunities, make for can’t-miss

VERMONT

WINTER BREWERS FESTIVAL

APRIL 2

Put an exclamation point at the end of the winter season with a day of good music and great beer at Mount Snow. For the eighth straight year, more than 20 breweries will be on hand, with over 50 taps pouring delicious ales, stouts, lagers, ciders, and everything in between. West Dover, VT. 800-245-7669; mountsnow.com

For more of the events you love around New England, turn to p. 130.

JONATHAN KOZOWYK (PATRIOTS’ DAY); CARL ZOCH/STOCKSY (BEER)

Maple Mania Destinations

Early spring brings sugaring season, when New Englanders tap their trees for liquid gold.

BY KIM KNOX BECKIUS

rom late February through early April—the calendar’s sweet spot, that brief and precious spell when daytime temperatures sneak up into the 40s but nights snap cold again—the sugar-maple sap starts percolating and New England’s spring gold rush is on. One of our region’s true treasures, maple syrup is as complex and subtly variable as fine wine. Sugarhouse tours and pancake breakfasts are ample enticements for most fans, but if you’re an obsessed maple lover, add these ultimate experiences to your “sap bucket” list.

Gelato Fiasco

College friends Joshua Davis and Bruno Tropeano were roommates in Rome, Maine, when they hatched a plan to craft their swirly-soft ice cream the Italian way—with premium local milk and ingredients. Since launching Gelato Fiasco in 2007, Tropeano has masterminded more than 1,500 flavors. Sugaringseason favorite “Maple Sap Tap”—a “riff on classic maple–walnut,” inspired by Davis’s childhood memories of Maine Maple Sunday—is made in small batches with syrup from Skowhegan’s Strawberry Hill Farms and homemade toffee. Brunswick & Portland, Maine. 207-607-4002; gelatofiasco.com

Maple Adventure Ride

A 25-mile bike trek along slushy rural byways? “People love it—it makes for a really epic ride,” says former professional cyclist Peter Vollers, owner of Vermont Overland, which promotes the state’s publicly accessible back-

“Maple Sap Tap” at Gelato Fiasco

Strawbale Café

roads. On April 3 during Vermont Maple Open House Weekend, join 300 cyclists for Vollers’s third annual Maple Adventure Ride. The course leads to a different sugarhouse each year, and the maple snacks awaiting participants keep everyone pedaling. Worst case? The sag wagon will retrieve you, and you can still enjoy local beer and maple bourbon at the after-party. Woodstock, Vermont. 802291-2419; vermontoverland.com/vomar

Strawbale Café

In a region with myriad maple producers, how can a small operation that’s not on the way to anywhere attract crowds? You build the ultimate “green” restaurant—out of straw bales and mud plaster. Like its syrup—boiled into being with care and pride inside a tiny, circa-1900 sugar shack—the Strawbale Café at western Massa chusetts’ Hanging Mountain Farm is a labor of love for the Aloisi fam ily. Breakfast—including pancakes, French toast, and maple–oatmeal bread in addition to eggs, sausage, homefries, and more—is served Friday through Sunday year-round, with an abbreviated menu during the busy sug aring season. Westhampton, Massachu setts. 413-527-0710; hangingmountain farm.com

Hickory Ledges Farm

Bill Olson can show you his ancestor Uriah Case’s license to distill, issued in 1797. Still, it took Bill and his wife, Lynne—sixth-generation stewards of the land—years to hit upon the agricultural product that’s now putting Connecticut’s Hickory Ledges Farm on the map: moonshine. On Sunday afternoons, grab a stool by the woodstove in the tasting room and enjoy

complimentary samples. Chances are you’ll want to take home a mason jar of smooth, not-too-sweet “Full Moonshine/Pete’s Maple 80”: 80-proof corn liquor laced with local maple syrup. “Bill and I make every single bottle by hand,” Lynne says. Canton, Connecticut. 860-693-4039; hickoryledges.com

Manor on Golden Pond

“We serve only pure maple syrup in the dining room,” says Mary Ellen Shields, who owns New Hampshire’s Manor on Golden Pond—a country B&B overlooking Squam Lake— with her husband, Brian. So, when the inn’s spa added a “Maple Moments”

treatment to its year-round offerings, the same supplier—Homestead Maple in nearby Campton—was tapped to provide the key ingredient. A mixture of botanical mud infused with the beloved pancake topping, “it really helps to detoxify the skin,” Shields notes, and the comforting aroma lingers long after you shower it away. Holderness, New Hampshire. 603-9683348; manorongoldenpond.com

Can’t get enough maple? Turn to “Out & About,” pp. 70–71 and 130–135, for more New England maple events and festivals, and see “Bottling the Magic,” p. 48, for recipes.

The Newport Tower

How old, really, is this enduring Rhode Island mystery?

BY JOE BILLS

n a sunny neighborhood park just off Bellevue Avenue, a mere 10-minute stroll from beautiful Newport Harbor, sits one of Rhode Island’s enduring mysteries. These days, it’s most often known as the Newport Tower. Some time ago it was called the Viking Tower. Before that it was the Old Stone Mill. Before that, it was Benedict Arnold’s Mill. And before that … Well, that’s where the mystery comes in. What, if anything, was it before that?

In pictures, the Tower sometimes has a Gothic feel, but up close, in the bright sunshine, it seems smaller than expected: a slightly oblong, roofless cylinder of fieldstone crouching on eight notquite-evenly-spaced columns, about 24 feet in diameter and 26 to 28 feet high (depending on who’s measuring and where). Seven small openings—windows perhaps—dot the upper section in what seems to be a random pattern.

Although the mystery surrounding its origin is its claim to fame, there’s little doubt that it’s one of the oldest manmade structures in New England. Its documented history stretches back to the 1670s, when most people believe it was built by Governor Benedict Arnold (grandfather of the Revolutionary War traitor). Some say it was intended as a windmill, to replace the town’s wooden windmill, lost in a hurricane. Others believe it was constructed first as a harbor lookout and later converted into a windmill. What’s certain is that in 1677, when Arnold drafted his will, he referred to “my stonebuilt windmiln,” located on the same lot where his mansion then stood. After Arnold’s death in 1678, there’s little mention of the Tower in the public record. It was used, from time to time, as a haymow or a munitions storehouse.

Rhode Island’s Newport Tower: a onetime windmill dating from the 1670s— or a Viking-era church from five centuries earlier? These ancient stones hold their secret fast.

Things got stirred up in 1837 when a Dane named Charles Rafn published a book titled Antiquitatis Americanae , tracing evidence of Norse voyages to America. The romantic notion of early Viking visits captured the public

imagination, and soon people started seeing “evidence” of Viking visits where they never had before. When Rafn published a supplement to his book in 1839, it included the theory that the Newport Tower was originally a Norse church, built in the 12th century by Erik, Bishop of Gardar.

For a long time, the Vikings eclipsed Arnold as the favored builders of the Tower. In 1942, Philip Means wrote a book devoted to the Tower and supporting the Viking theory. His builder of choice, though, was Erik Gnupsson, appointed Bishop of the Greenlanders in 1121; he was known to have traveled to Vinland (today’s Newfoundland) a few years later.

From that point forward, it was almost as though the advent of a new Tower origin story was an annual tradition. One suggested that it was built by Paul Knutson, who came to Vinland in

the 1350s to search for a settlement that had vanished from the western coast of Greenland.

But the theories didn’t end there: The Tower was built by Chinese sailors who visited Newport in 1421; by Scotland’s Sir Henry Sinclair in the 1390s; by Gaspard and Miguel Corte-Real, Portuguese brothers shipwrecked in the early 1500s, as a beacon for potential rescuers. It was a castle built by 11th-century Welsh Prince Madoc; a 14th-century shrine built by the Knights Templar; a watchtower built by Bronze Age Celts; a spotting tower used by Basque whale hunters …

So far, scientific analysis and archaeological digs haven’t favored the more creative interpretations of the Tower’s origin. A 1949 study, in fact, found several indicators—including a square-heeled footprint and a clay pipe at the bottom of the original trench,

and a fragment of Colonial pottery among the stones of a footing—that support the theory that the Tower is “only” 350 years old, give or take a few. More recently, this hypothesis was backed up by carbon dating of the Tower’s limestone mortar, again confirming a Colonial-era date.

No matter which theory you subscribe to, the Newport Tower is a literal monument to American history, already 100 years old (at least) at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War. The Tower has been the object of a hundred stories and has stood silent witness to countless more.

No matter who originally stacked them, these stones have an amazing story to tell.

For more little-known New England lore, visit: YankeeMagazine.com/Legends

EDITORS’ CHOICE

BEST of NEW ENGLAND

BEST AIRBORNE ADVENTURE ALPINE ADVENTURES OUTDOOR RECREATION LINCOLN, NH

The first, largest & most awardwinning zipline & adventure destination in New England. Including off-road tours, “Thrillsville” Aerial Park and the BigAirBag Stuntzone—all in the spectacular White Mountains of New Hampshire.

603-745-9911

WWW.ALPINEZIPLINE.COM

BEST BEACHSIDE STAY THE DUNES "ON THE WATERFRONT" OGUNQUIT, ME

When you need to get away from it all The Dunes Cottages and Guestrooms are situated on twelve secluded and beautifully landscaped acres, offering glorious views of Ogunquit Beach and the Atlantic Ocean.

207-646-2612

WWW.DUNESONTHEWATERFRONT.COM

BEST CAR & MOTORCYCLE COLLECTION

SPRINGFIELD MUSEUMS

SPRINGFIELD, MA

Art, history, science, and Seuss, all in one place! One admission provides access to four nationally accredited museums, with diverse permanent collections, fascinating traveling exhibitions like Better Angels: The Firefighters of 9/11, and the Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden. 413-263-6800

WWW.SPRINGFIELDMUSEUMS.ORG

BEST GIFT STORE GALLERY

GIFTS AT 136

DAMARISCOTTA, ME

Gifts at 136 offers a large selection of fine crafts and art from Maine including furniture, painting, sculpture, jewelry, pottery, glassware, lighting and more. Gifts at 136 has won multiple awards for their well-curated collection of accessible art. Open all year. 207-563-1011

BEST RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE CANTURYBURY SHAKER VILLAGE / CANTERBURY, NH

This National Historic Landmark is dedicated to preserving the 200-year legacy of Shaker entrepreneurship, innovative design and simple living. Includes 25 restored original and four reconstructed Shaker buildings on 694 acres, cafe, museum store.

Open May-October.

603-783-9511

WWW.SHAKERS.ORG

BEST DESIGNER ROOM THE HARRASEEKET INN FREEPORT, ME

A family-owned, AAA Four Diamond hotel featuring two restaurants, fireplaces, indoor pool, select pet-friendly rooms. Book direct and get free breakfast and tea. Complimentary transportation from Amtrak Downeaster station. Two blocks to L.L.Bean. Best shopping in NE.

800-342-6423

WWW.HARRASEEKETINN.COM

WWW.GIFTSAT136.COM/

BEST FARM STAY

LIBERTY HILL FARM INN ROCHESTER, VT

Welcoming guests from around the world since 1984. People are drawn to Liberty Hill Farm by Beth’s farm fresh meals, the allure of the peace and quiet of the heart of Vermont, and the opportunity to engage in farm chores and milk a cow!

802-767-3926

WWW.LIBERTYHILLFARM.COM

Reconnect with past Editors’

BEST INN RESTORATION THE INN AT HASTINGS PARK LEXINGTON, MA

A thoughtfully restored antique property located in one of New England’s most historic districts, this 22-room Relais & Chateaux inn has gorgeous interiors featuring a contemporary twist on the traditional. Its casually elegant restaurant, Artistry on the Green, serves regional seasonal cuisine.

781-301-6660

WWW.INNATHASTINGSPARK.COM

BEST FAMILY INN THE NONANTUM RESORT KENNEBUNKPORT, ME

Traditions begin here. Enjoy the seasonal family activities program, kayak & bike rentals, outdoor heated pool, magical fairy garden, scenic lobster boat cruises, and trolley tours! Close to the beaches and Dock Square shops. TripAdvisor Certificate of Excellence winner.

888-205-1555

WWW.NONANTUMRESORT.COM

BEST CASUALLY ELEGANT INN RED CLOVER INN MENDON, VT

Stylish, secluded lodging and exquisite local cuisine round out your Vermont experience at the Red Clover Inn. Hike, bike, and explore the Green Mountains by day—then spend the evening enjoying decadent food, our award-winning wine list, and cozy rooms.

800-752-0571

WWW.REDCLOVERINN.COM

BEST INSIDER TOUR MAINE MARITIME MUSEUM BATH, ME

Home to the only surviving shipyard where wooden sailing ships were built, the Boatshop keeps traditional boatbuilding alive. Explore our 20acre waterfront campus, and take a cruise or trolley tour for an up close view of area lighthouses and naval ships at Bath Iron Works.

207-443-1316 WWW.MAINEMARITIMEMUSEUM.COM

BEST BICULTURAL INTERPRETATION PLIMOTH PLANTATION PLYMOUTH, MA

A must-see New England destination that tells the story of Plymouth Colony in the early 1600s and its shared history with the Pilgrims and Native people. Visit the 17th-century English Village, Wampanoag Homesite, Mayflower II, Plimoth Grist Mill, Craft Center and Plimoth Bread Co.

508-746-1622

WWW.PLIMOTH.ORG

BEST HARBOR FRONT MOTEL VINEYARD HARBOR MOTEL VINEYARD HAVEN, MA

Offering year-round accommodations just a few blocks from the center of Vineyard Haven. Amenities include: private baths, CTV, A/C, refridgerator, maid service, and free parking. Kitchenette and 1-bedroom apts., also. Enjoy the private beach and views from the beautiful patio and sunny decks.

508-693-3334 | 877-693-3334

WWW.VINEYARDHARBORMOTEL.COM

Choice winners and learn for yourself why they received Yankee Magazine’s highest accolade.

SUMMER TRAVEL PLANNING GUIDE

Hidden New England

When you visit these under-the-radar destinations, you may wonder, “Why didn’t I come here before?”

Greensboro, VERMONT SLOWING DOWN BY CASPIAN LAKE

You don’t just stumble across Greensboro, Vermont, a no-stoplight town in the heart of the remote Northeast Kingdom, miles from the Interstate, and seemingly in a world of its own. Slowed-down living in a fast-paced world. But while you don’t just land here, “once you do come, you tend to stay,” as one resident reminded me.

The reasons for that hit you like a blast of fresh air as soon as you cross into Greensboro. Oh sure, pretty small towns are about as prevalent in Vermont as sugar maples, but only one is home to Caspian Lake, as clear a body of water as you’ll find in the state. Since Bliss Perry, a Princeton scholar, first brought his family to its shores in 1897, then gushed to his colleagues about its tranquility, Caspian has lured authors, academics, and politicos. Supreme Court Chief Justice William Rehnquist summered here; Wallace Stegner wrote here; and anthropologist Margaret Mead studied here. Over time, modest camps morphed into bigger homes, but the

GREENSBORO

COREY HENDRICKSON

Maya and Brent McCoy, with best buddy Little, paddle the pristine waters of Caspian Lake in Greensboro, Vermont.

TOP RIGHT : Little takes the plunge off a nearby dock.

draw remains, and summer rentals are available throughout the season.

You feel a different pull in the center of town at Willey’s Store. Is it a general store, a hardware shop, a home-goods place, or a clothing boutique? Actually it’s all those things. It’s where you go for your breakfast sandwich, a gallon of latex, a new shirt, and a blender. “We’re Greensboro’s version of Walmart,” the hardware clerk said with a smile. “Only people seem to enjoy coming here.”

Greensboro’s appeal is that it embraces its size without being limited by it. Recently the town has experienced a mini-boom of sorts. But it’s managed growth, taking what’s old and making it new again. Across the street from Willey’s, a renovated gristmill is now Miller’s Thumb Gallery, a sundrenched two-floor space devoted to the work of Vermont and New Hampshire artisans. Around the corner,

another artsy stop, Galleria Catharina, resides in a retired creamery.

On the outskirts of town, Shaun Hill has made the rolling farmland that’s been in his family for eight generations into Hill Farmstead Brewery, a veritable bucket-list destination for beer enthusiasts from around the world. To accommodate all those fans, Hill opened a new retail store and brewhouse in 2015. Just down the road, Jasper Hill Farm continues to expand its clout as one of the most renowned artisanal cheese makers. Circus Smirkus, the circus company that has made its home in Greensboro since it first opened in 1987, has a new circus-camp campus on the site of a former farm, while the town’s Mirror Theater is undergoing construction of its firstever playhouse for its stock of summer performances. All together, Greensboro invites the question: Is there a

THIS PAGE, FROM TOP: Robert W. Hurst, president of Willey’s Store, his family’s 115-year-old business in Greensboro, Vermont; Greensboro’s Cellars at Jasper Hill, where fresh wheels of cheese age to perfect ripeness. OPPOSITE, FROM TOP: On Jasper Hill Farm, Ayrshire cows head toward the milking parlor; Miller’s Thumb in Greensboro offers fine art and contemporary crafts in several media.

bigger-feeling town with a population under 1,000 in all of New England? Maybe not.

You’ll find a microcosm of Greensboro’s intimate charm on Country Club Road, past a series of stately maples and small pastures, at the home and studio of Jennifer Ranz. A Minnesota native, Ranz summered on Caspian with her family as a child and later became one of the town’s year-rounders. She’s made a pretty go of it these last 30 years, creating art and converting a big old dairy barn into a showcase for her jewelry, photography, and watercolors.

“To me, Greensboro is paradise,” she says, looking out across her big field, toward her view of Wheelock Mountain. “I’ve been to a lot of different places and I can’t find any place that’s better than this.” —Ian

Aldrich

More photos at: YankeeMagazine.com/ Greensboro

Westport, MASSACHUSETTS A COASTAL TOWN FROM ANOTHER TIME

In Massachusetts, the summer migration is typically coastal and generally southward. The pull toward the Cape and Islands is so great that the entire southbound highway system seems to act as a funnel to the Bourne and Sagamore bridges. But if you push farther south, you’ll find the Bay State’s oftenoverlooked “SouthCoast,” home to the quiet town of Westport. It’s a comparatively undiscovered corner, bringing to mind the Cape of 30 years ago: beachy, bucolic, untrammeled.

This sliver of SouthCoast (a savvy rechristening of The Area Formerly Known as Greater New Bedford–Fall River) is a place fully unto itself, more identified with neighboring Little Compton, Rhode Island, than with Falmouth. This is farm country, with

WESTPORT

active dairy and produce operations and abundant conservation land. This bounty has lured some of Boston’s top chefs to vacation here, sampling from the produce at Alderbrook and Orr’s farms and the tasty thimble-size Hannahbell cheeses produced at Shy Brothers Farm. Then there’s Westport Rivers Winery, producer of awardwinning sparkling wines, where you can catch a concert and a clambake feast every Friday night in summer; nearby is Buzzards Bay Brewing, which also offers live music most summer weeknights and BYOG (Bring Your Own Grillables) on Tuesdays. As for restaurants, there’s excellent year-round waterside dining at The Back Eddy.

But quiet is one of the town’s greatest draws; you’ll find some of the best walking in New England on the trails that run through Westport Town Farm, a river-view property now managed by the Trustees of Reservations, and at the Allens Pond Wildlife Sanctuary, where you can ramble from the shores of Buzzards Bay up through pastures and woodlands on the South

Dartmouth side. Horseneck Beach may fill up on weekends, but it’s a solitary spot at sunset and a great place to forage for beach plums.

The arts-and-letters scene is clustered around a trio of neighboring businesses in the Central Village area: Dedee Shattuck’s striking Shakermodern contemporary-art gallery; the Art Stable, showcasing works from local artists; and Partners, an artsy village café/gallery/gift shop/bookstore. Not a strip mall to be seen, nor a stretch of traffic. —Amy

Traverso

Vinalhaven, MAINE THE LARGEST LOBSTER FLEET

Lobster boats and gulls all turn into the wind, and I grab my sketchpad and camera. My deck is like a box seat at an ever-changing show of boats, men,

and birds. Sound effects include a tidal raceway, swooshing beneath my motel room.

“Vinalhaven isn’t a resort island,” artist Elaine Crossman warned me the first time I phoned to book a night at the Tidewater Motel & Gathering Place, one of very few lodgings on Maine’s largest offshore island. It was early in the season on that first hour-plus ride on the Vinalhaven car ferry from Rockland. Everyone else knew everyone, and at the island dock, they disappeared into waiting vehicles, mostly trucks. It wasn’t hard for Elaine’s husband, Phil Crossman, to spot me.

Turns out that it’s an easy walk along the working waterfront from the ferry to the motel, which sits beside the town dock on Carver’s Harbor. A long, lively Main Street flanks the dock; across from the dock is an ornate Victorian building, home to famed artist Robert Indiana. Vinalhaven is Maine’s largest year-round island community (with

JILLIAN MITCHELL (BOAT, LOBSTER); STEVE DUNWELL/AGE FOTOSTOCK (AERIAL)

VINALHAVEN

THIS PAGE : Two miles of sand facing Rhode Island Sound make Westport’s Horseneck Beach a great spot for sunning and swimmng. It’s part of a 600-acre Massachusetts state reservation encompassing barrier-beach, estuary, and salt-marsh habitats. OPPOSITE , TOP,

FROM LEFT : A sailboat at rest on the Westport River; freshly cooked local lobster prepared by the expert staff of Smoke & Pickles, a Westport catering service.

I FELL IN LOVE WITH VINALHAVEN AND EVENTUALLY RENTED A HOUSE THERE. EVERYONE AGREES THAT IT WAS OUR BEST FAMILY VACATION EVER.

Carver’s Harbor in Vinalhaven, Maine. Vinalhaven is home to the state’s largest year-round island community, a thriving lobster fleet, and a sizable summer population of regulars and visitors.

an equal number of summer residents), and homes are widely scattered. Still, everyone meets at the southern end of the island in Carver’s Harbor boatyards, at the post office, at Carver’s Harbor Market or the Paper Store, and at Surfside (opening at 4:00 a.m. for breakfast).

Carver’s Harbor is also home to one of the world’s largest lobster fleets, and by midafternoon the boats are in, a sight I still can’t get enough of. But there are shops, restaurants, and galleries to visit, and beyond Main Street the road curves along the harbor and across the bridge to Lane’s Island, with its beach and cliff path. Vinalhaven’s two water-filled quarries are just a bike ride from town. My favorite swimming holes in all of Maine, they’re two of many public preserves, ranging from mountain trails to the long arc of Geary’s Beach to sheltered paddling places like The Basin.

I fell in love with the island and eventually rented a house there. Everyone agrees that it was our best family

vacation ever. Still, I return regularly to the Tidewater. Phil continues to clue me in to the island’s special people and places. He does this for all interested guests and dispenses advice to everyone who rents his bikes, cars, and kayaks. The author of Away Happens, a genuinely funny book about island life, Phil Crossman plays down his role in turning countless visitors into summer renters, residents, and even year-round islanders. But without him, even fewer people would know about Vinalhaven.

—Christina Tree

Eaton Center, NEW HAMPSHIRE

THE SIMPLICITY OF JUST GETTING AWAY

If you’ve ever been to a party where the guests spill through the rooms chatting, drinking, and eating, and

you yearn to retreat to that balcony that you’ve been eyeing, then you’ll understand the feeling people have when they leave the brimming bustle of North Conway and only 11 miles south find Eaton Center, whose 350 or so inhabitants live tucked between views of sparkling lakewaters and mountains.

It’s the kind of place you stumble upon when you’re out for a Sunday drive and then stop to linger—a place where the little white community church is actually named “Little White Church.” Eaton locals gather for hash and eggs or lunch at the general store, and there’s little hint that the roads just north are lined with cars. Best of all for the traveler who delights in discovering the offthe-beaten-path treasure, two country inns—the Inn at Crystal Lake, just steps from the town beach, and the Snowvillage Inn—make it easy to park the car and simply let the day flow by, right there.

(PREVIOUS SPREAD, ABOVE)

FROM LEFT : An abandoned Vinalhaven granite quarry makes a great swimming hole; the working waterfront on Carver’s Harbor; fresh muffins at Downstreet Market, an Internet café and bakery on Main Street in Vinalhaven.

You come upon the Snowvillage Inn at the end of a long dirt driveway, and the house and its landscape appear suddenly: a handsome building, stone walls, gardens, an expansive view of Mount Washington. There’s a porch facing the mountain, and even as you walk in the door you feel the row of Adirondack chairs calling you.

Fresh flowers adorn the tables in the intimate inn dining room, Max’s Restaurant, and just beyond the windows hummingbirds seem to hang suspended by their feeders. When twilight falls, solar-powered lanterns shine like tiny moons. The menu is anchored by locally sourced meats, vegetables, and fruits (of course); this is one of those fine restaurants that Mount Washington Valley locals book for their special evenings.

When I asked our friendly waitperson, Sara, what most guests do while they’re there, she smiled. “They’re getawayers,” she said. “Being here is enough.” —Mel Allen

Woodbury, CONNECTICUT WRAPPED IN A MANTLE OF ANTIQUES

The word on these streets is “old.” Not as old as Connecticut’s Litchfield Hills, certainly, which is where Woodbury resides, but old enough: settled in 1659, renamed as a town in 1673, and riddled with eye-catching Colonial homes and a full regiment of antiques shops marching up and down Main Street. An antique town wrapped in a mantle of antiques.

When history digs deep into a place, it’s easy to feel as though you’ve wandered off the clock. Woodbury’s wide Main Street is draped with old shade trees, its sidewalks are set back from the busy thoroughfare, and all this spaciousness feels timeless on a blue-sky day. Check out the historic markers on

some of the homes: Zaccharias Walker, 1691; Hezekiah Thompson, 1760; Philo DeForest, 1799. Easy enough to just wander through the centuries, but for every venerable home from the 1700s, it seems there’s a corresponding antiques shop. If you’re not walking along looking at something from another time, you can duck inside and buy a slice of history.

There are antiques for all, within walking distance of each other: Farmhouse Antiques; American Antiques; Antique Gardenalia at The Elemental Garden. The Main Street Antiques Center group shop commandeers an old greenhouse. R. M. Barokh Antiques started on Kings Road in London, but now sells 17th- to 19th-century furniture here. Even the no-nonsense hardware store, C. L. Adams Company, sells vintage wheelbarrows and garden furniture, plus “more tag sale items on the second floor,” alongside the more

WOODBURY

predictable grain supplies, building materials, and baby chicks. There are shops tucked away, like antique sachets, everywhere.

Not to mention other surprises, like the Glebe House Museum & Gertrude Jekyll Garden, a short (beautiful) walk from Main Street. The furnished 18th-century farmhouse is encircled by a 600-foot garden designed in 1926 by the grande dame of English horticulture herself, recognized as one of the greatest gardeners of her century. Continue along Hollow Road and you’ll pass an Eric Sloane

illustration come to life—the barn-red Hurd House, circa 1680.

Inns and restaurants have a provenance, too. The rambling Curtis House Inn, built before 1736, claims to be Connecticut’s oldest lodging and is a member of Haunted Connecticut Tours. “At night, when the lights come on in the dining room, the word that comes to mind is bedazzling,” says Jen, a wiry woman who helps maintain the massive building and has her own ghost stories. Even relative newcomers have their stories: Carole Peck’s awardwinning Good News Café, for instance,

has been around for “only” 21 years, but the New York Times has called her “the Alice Waters of the East Coast.”

At the end of a history-soaked day, you can cool off at Quassy Amusement Park & Waterpark, less than three miles away in neighboring Middlebury. This 107-year-old miniature charmer is one of two remaining “trolley parks” in the country, says John Francis, whose family has owned Quassy for the past 80 years. Scaled for kids, with a wooden roller coaster and a beach on the shores of glassy Lake Quassapaug, it’s a nostalgic wave to the way we were. —Annie

Graves

KINDRA CLINEFF

Find fresh, local, seasonal fare at the Good News Café in Woodbury, Connecticut; Woodbury’s Glebe House, an 18th-century parsonage and farmhouse, boasts an English-style garden designed by Gertrude Jekyll in 1926.

OPPOSITE , BOTTOM : Julie Sutton, co-owner of Woodbury’s Farmhouse Antiques, offering vintage and upcycled wares.

Galilee,

RHODE ISLAND

NEW ENGLAND’S FISHING FRONTIER

As the salt pond along Galilee Escape Road drains with the approaching low tide, embossed mounds in the soft silt are exposed. A telltale hole in the center of each one signals that a clam is buried in the general vicinity. Still, it takes mad digging to find them. For gloppy organisms without brains, they’re craftier than you’d imagine.

The $11 that out-of-staters pay for a 14-Day Tourist Shellfish License (Rhode Islanders and kids clam for free) is a small price to fork over—not just for the incomparable taste of freshly dug quahogs. If tapping an app on your phone is the hardest you’ve hunted for food lately, clamming will remind you:

Our bodies weren’t built to sit all day, elbows locked, fingers on keys or screens.

On the surface, Galilee appears to be little more than a parking lot for the Block Island Ferry. Stick around southern Narragansett’s gritty fishing village, though, and you’ll have a deep, authentic experience of the nearly ’round-the-clock chase that makes this Rhode Island’s most lucrative port, with $4.3 million in average monthly landings.

Like the fluke that you can reel up on party-boat expeditions —their eyeballs both migrated to one side, so that they can nestle flat on the ocean floor and dodge predators—Galilee’s fisher men are ingenious at adapting. They’re New England’s own cowboys, inventing new gear and techniques, forging new markets for underappreciated fish species.

A lobster boat heads out from Galilee, a fishing village in the town of Narragansett, Rhode Island. Her home port is Point Judith, a small seaside community just a mile and a half away.

JOIN NIGHT OWLS IN PURSUIT OF GALILEE’S MOST IMPORTANT CATCH: CALAMARI, CHRISTENED RHODE ISLAND’S OFFICIAL APPETIZER. WALK OUT ONTO THE DOCKS TO BUY JUST-TRAPPED LOBSTERS DIRECTLY FROM THE MEN WHO CAUGHT THEM.

New England’s fishing frontier isn’t solely a place for spectators, who unfold chairs along the rocky channel, spread towels at Salty Brine State Beach, or grab tables on restaurant decks to observe more than 200 commercial vessels at work. Join night owls in pursuit of Galilee’s most important catch: calamari, christened Rhode Island’s official appetizer. Walk out onto the docks to buy just-trapped lobsters directly from the men who caught them. Order scup or monkfish or tautog at George’s of Galilee. Here, thirdgeneration restaurateur Kevin Durfee has quietly transformed this enduring clam shack into Rhode Island’s place to taste the fish of the future: sustainable, healthy, so fresh that “our delivery person walks to us,” he says. Gone are three-quarters of the fryolators that churn out batter-wrapped seafood. Durfee has invested in revamped kitchens, where experimentation with the sea’s diversity supports the local fleet’s hardworking cast of salty characters. And he has remodeled the dining room, now an elegant space for fine dining …

There’s nothing pretentious about Galilee. Nothing Disneyfied. When the sky burns red at night, it’s an unscripted harbinger of a perfect day on the water— a glowing confirmation that life’s most satisfying adventures are ones you must

—Kim Knox Beckius

For “When You Go” information, see p. 136.

RICHARD BENJAMIN

From humble pancake breakfasts to faith-based bean feasts to tri-state chowder cooko s, New England is a festival-goer’s paradise. In church basements, on town greens, and in city parks, we gather to indulge and commune. (Pass the Del’s!)

Our food festivals, large and small, are celebrations of our native flavors, dedicated to the preservation and glory of the New England table. Take any familiar food— maple syrup to johnnycakes, cranberries to cheddar— and you’ll find a festival for it. And not just for ye olde victuals, either. We’re also a land of food trucks, whoopie pies, and late-harvest Riesling.

Herewith, Yankee presents a selection of our favorite events featuring classic regional cuisine, plus a sampling of quirkier attractions and grander food and wine extravaganzas.

BY CHRISTIE MATHESON TYPE DESIGN BY TWO ARMS INC.

RESEARCH BY BETHANY BOURGEAULT

VERMONT MAPLE FESTIVAL

APRIL 22–24, 2016

St. Albans, Vermont 802-524-5800

vtmaplefestival.org

Vermont is the number-one maple-syrup-producing state in the U.S., so it stands to reason that a festival highlighting the state’s “liquid gold” is no small affair. At the Vermont Maple Festival, celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, syrup makers compete for prizes and glory in the biggest maple contest in the state (with categories from amber maple to maple cream).

There are also cooking competitions, sugarhouse tours, musical performances, a talent show, a parade, the 8.5-mile “Sap Run” road race, and countless maple treats to eat and drink.

CHOWDER FESTIVAL

JUNE 4, 2016

Portsmouth, New Hampshire 603-436-2848

prescottpark.org

Looking for a chowder fix? This is the biggest and oldest (at 32 years) chowderfest in New England, held at Prescott Park on

Portsmouth’s beautiful waterfront. Chefs from Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts serve up signature variations on clam, seafood, corn, and other chowders— 500 gallons in all—in hopes of capturing the crown. Visitors can wash down their samples with cold beer, raw oysters, and live music.

SUMMER

VERMONT CHEESEMAKERS FESTIVAL

JULY 17, 2016

Shelburne, Vermont 866-261-8595

vtcheesefest.com

general admission: $60

There are more cheesemakers per capita in Vermont than in any other state, and most of them will be here, with mouthwatering samples of their cheddars, blues, Alpine-stye rounds, and more. (Disclosure: Yankee is a media sponsor of this event.) Cheesemaking seminars and culinary demonstrations go on throughout the day at beautiful Shelburne Farms, a 1,400-acre oasis on Lake Champlain. Grab tickets early for this one—it sold out in 2015.

ABOVE : Vermont’s dairy heritage is on welcome display at Shelburne Farms’ annual Cheesemakers Festival. BELOW : Another signature Green Mountain State product takes center stage at the Maple Festival in St. Albans, where “sugar on snow” is a special treat.

MAINE LOBSTER FESTIVAL

AUGUST 3–7, 2016 Rockland, Maine

800-576-7512

mainelobsterfestival.com

Dating back to 1947, this festival was originally conceived to revitalize summer tourism in the Camden area after World War II. Today it draws 30,000 people each summer to indulge in more than 20,000 pounds of lobster (straight up or in a roll, wrap, or salad) and 1,700 pounds of butter. Runners can work off the excess in a 10K race (or kids’ fun run) on Sunday. Live music, comedy, an art show, and the coronation of the 69th Maine Sea Goddess round out the entertainment.

For more on Maine’s annual lobster celebration, visit: YankeeMagazine.com/ Festival

Finer Feasts

If your taste runs more to white tablecloths than picnic benches, there’s a calendar’s worth of food and wine galas to attend in some of New England’s most beautiful destinations. At the long-running Nantucket Wine Festival ( nantucketwinefestival.com), award-winning vintners and chefs descend upon the island for big parties, intimate dinners, and a whole lot of tasting in advance of the busy summer season (May 18–22, 2016). In the fall, the Newport Wine & Food Festival ( newportmansions.org) features luminaries such as Jacques Pépin, Martha Stewart, and Jacques Torres, who lead dinners, tastings, and seminars at The Elms, Rosecliff, and Marble House (Sept. 23–25, 2016). Not to be outdone by its island neighbor, Martha’s Vineyard launched its own annual four-day Food & Wine Festival ( mvfoodandwine.com), with a portion of the proceeds going to island schools and farmers (Oct. 13–16, 2016). And, finally, Harvest on the Harbor ( harvestontheharbor.com) in Portland, Maine, kicks off with a splashy gala and features a lobstercooking competition, dinners pairing chefs with produce from local farms, and plenty of wine, beer, and cider (Oct. 19–23, 2016).

CORN FESTIVAL

SEPTEMBER 17–18, 2016

Norwell, Massachusetts

WILD BLUEBERRY FESTIVAL

AUGUST 19–20, 2016

Machias, Maine

207-255-6665

machiasblueberry.com

The 41st annual version of this Down East blueberry fête includes farm tours, a cooking contest, a pie-eating contest, a blueberry quilt raffle, and road races for all ages. The church-sponsored extravaganza has an especially classic, homespun feel—and it’s pointedly family-friendly. Kid-focused events include a children’s parade, birdhouse building,

and an interactive puppet show. Don’t miss the Blueberry Festival comic musical, written, choreographed, propped, and costumed by locals (last year’s theme: “History of the Blueberry: Part 1”).

ABOVE : You’ll find hearty johnnycakes among the offerings at the annual Corn Festival in Norwell, Mass. BELOW : A beautiful sea of red marks the cranberry harvest, celebrated on Nantucket and in many other coastal locales.

Corn has deep roots in our rocky soil: bred by Native peoples, fed to hungry Pilgrims, folded into our core cuisine. That heritage will be on display at this homespun festival (now in its 40th year), with demonstrations of centuries-old crafts, a cornshucking contest, corncob dolls, hayrides, pony rides, and a corn pit for kids. (The organizers swapped out bounce houses and balloon animals years ago in favor of more-historical fun.) As for eating, you’ll find plenty of corn chowder, johnnycakes, and other corn-based treats to taste.

FALL APPLE HARVEST FESTIVAL

SEPTEMBER 30–OCTOBER 2, OCTOBER 7–9, 2016

Southington, Connecticut 860-276-8461

southington.org/AHF

Spanning two weekends and drawing about 100,000 visitors, this apple bonanza runs the festival gamut, with live music, arts and crafts, road races (a 5-miler, a 5K, a 2-mile walk, and “Little Fritter” fun runs), fireworks, a parade, Zion Lutheran Church’s famed apple fritters, pie baking and eating contests—plus the sweetest contest of all, as Southington kids nominate their grandmothers for festival “Granny Apple” honors.

MORGAN JACKSON (JOHNNYCAKE); CARY HAZLEGROVE (CRANBERRIES); LEZLI ROWELL (OSYTER SHUCKING); AIMEE SEAVEY (FLUFFER NUTTER)

CRANBERRY FESTIVAL

OCTOBER 8, 2016

Nantucket, Massachusetts

508-228-2884

nantucketconservation.org

Where exactly do cranberries come from? On Nantucket, where cranberries have been a staple crop since the mid-1800s, this festival is the place to find out. Check out the bogs during harvest—and taste the fresh, tart product. Snack on cranberry bread from beloved island bakery Something Natural, freshpressed cranberry juice, and Sweet Inspirations’ chocolate-covered cranberries, while you enjoy hayrides, petting zoos, and a visit from Barnaby, Nantucket’s favorite kid-lit character.

WELLFLEET OYSTERFEST

OCTOBER 15–16, 2016

Wellfleet, Massachusetts

508-349-2510

wellfleetoysterfest.org

Proving that there’s life on Cape Cod beyond Labor Day, this festival wraps up the season with a celebration of Wellfleet’s most famous export. Every moment of each day is stuffed with live

music (bluegrass, African drumming, Celtic, and more), educational lectures, a sunset dance party, an oyster-shucking contest, and film screenings. On the food side, you’ll find oyster and wine pairings, abundant raw bars, restaurant booths, and chef demos.

KENYON’S GRIST MILL CLAM CAKES & CHOWDER FESTIVAL

OCTOBER 22–23, 2016 West Kingston, Rhode Island 401-783-4054 kenyonsgristmill.com

Like many, we were dismayed when Kenyon’s Grist Mill canceled its popular Johnnycake Festival in 2014, but this smaller-scale event does its best to fill the void. Over two days in October,

Shuckers get down to business at Massachusetts’ Wellfleet OysterFest, held in October. This familyfriendly event is produced by SPAT (Wellfleet Shellfish Promotion & Tasting), a nonprofit group whose mission is to support the town’s historic shellfishing and aquaculture industries.

Funky Feasts

As much as we love traditional food festivals, celebrations with a dash of irreverence are delicious, too. Maine’s Boothbay Harbor Fishermen’s Festival (boothbayharbor.com) cuts loose with a codfish relay, crate running, the “Miss Shrimp” competition, and, of course, great seafood (April 22–24, 2016). The Maine Whoopie Pie Festival (mainewhoopiepie festival.com) honors the official state treat, with bakers competing for the title of best whoopie maker (June 25, 2016). The New England Food Truck Festival (nefoodtruckfest.com) at the Eastern States Fairground in West Springfield, Mass., is a must visit for anyone enamored of America’s favorite brand of street food (July 23–24, 2016). Every fall, Eat X NE (eatxne.com) is Burlington, Vermont’s homage to area fare, with sessions on growing your own food and eating local on a budget (Sept. 17–18, 2016). Finally, What the Fluff? (flufffestival.com) honors Archibald Query, who invented marshmallow fluff in Somerville, Mass., in 1917, with cooking contests, games of “Blind Man’s Fluff,” a marshmallow toss, and more (Sept. 24, 2016).

visitors are invited to tour the historic mill, sample free johnnycakes and local coffee, and snack on delicious clam cakes and chowder, all while learning about New England’s heritage foods.

CIDER DAYS

NOVEMBER 5–6, 2016 Franklin County, Massachusetts 413-773-5463 ciderdays.org

When other spirits were hard to come by, resourceful New Englanders made hard cider with their abundant apple crop; today, microbrew aficionados, wine lovers, and foodies are rediscovering cider’s charms. This two-day festival, now in its 22nd year, celebrates all things apple with cidermaking workshops, orchard tours, apple pressing and cooking demonstrations, community suppers, and a “Cider Salon” featuring ciders from nearly 70 makers, representing the U.S., Canada, and Europe.

‘My New England’ PHOTO CONTEST

This is the fourth year we’ve published the winners of Yankee ’s reader photo contest. I know it’s the norm to call these endeavors contests, and thus there seems a logic to having winners. But that also implies that there are losers, and that’s simply wrong. Every time someone looks through a lens—whether on today’s smartphones or tablets or the old-fashioned way, a camera—and captures a moment that resonates so deeply that they wish to share it with the world, it demonstrates why photography has the power not only to move us but also to create a bond between us, a community of sorts, if you will. When I look at Vera Resnik’s Tranquility, I fall into the world that she saw at Wrightsville Reservoir on a foggy morning in fall. She saw it and caught it forever—and now we can all be there. Every single photograph that came into Yankee carried with it that promise. None were losers.

New England speaks to everyone a bit differently, and that was reflected in the images we saw. As in last year’s project, Heather Marcus, our photo editor, and Lori Pedrick, our art director, were ably assisted by the careful eye and sensibility of guest judge Paula Tognarelli, executive director and curator of the Griffin Museum of Photography in Winchester, Massachusetts.

“My New England” will appear again next year in the March/April 2017 issue. For contest details, rules, and updates, visit YankeeMagazine .com/Photo-Contest. And to see more 2015 entries, go to YankeeMagazine .com/2015-Photos —Mel Allen

1st Place Winner!

Title: Tranquility

Location: Wrightsville Reservoir, Montpelier, Vermont

Photographer: Vera Resnik

Judge’s comments: “Vera’s personal connection to the location: ‘Early-morning fog was lifting as well as the mist off the water, making the background trees visible as two canoeists passed silently by.’ I chose this image for its sensory overtones and because it seemed to indicate a New England fall moment most successfully. As viewers, we’re engaged in the landscape, filled with the quiet rhythmic sounds of an oar dipping into the water, the blast of intense color, and the atmosphere and the scents of a brisk morning.”

2nd Place Winner!

Title: Fall Sunrise

Location: Boulder Beach, Acadia National Park, Maine

Photographer: Swapan Jha

Judge’s comments: “Jha uses dramatic composition and color to bring the viewer into this Maine landscape. Involving the rocks on the shore and a descending treeline, we’re greeted by the horizon and a sublime skyline at daybreak.”

3rd Place Winner!

Title: Day on the Deerfield

Location: Deerfield River, Deerfield, Massachusetts

Photographer: Kirsta Davey

Judge’s comments: “What intrigued me in this photograph is the author’s method of indicating motion. The main character’s arm, in the middle of throwing a ball, is mimicked by the bow of the birch tree on the horizon. The mouth of the river seems to make the ball take flight. The use of multiple dogs of the same color and breed tricks the viewer into thinking that one dog is in perpetual motion. I see this as a truly delightful image.”

honorable mention

Title: Brooklin Night

Location: Brooklin, Maine, on Blue Hill Bay

Photographer: Kirsta Davey

Judge’s comments: “I chose Brooklin Night because it’s a portrayal of a nighttime landscape. The term ‘New England’ itself conveys thoughts of bright colors at the turn of a season, but this night-sky photograph dares to be different. The brightly lit home at center suggests safe haven. The evergreens point home and seem to act as sentinels against our vast universe.”

‘my new england’ photo contest

honorable mention

Title: Between the Clouds

Location: Mount Washington summit from Bretton Woods, New Hampshire

Photographer: Richard Fraelick

Judge’s comments: “The Mount Washington summit is a view very few have experienced close up, owing to its being the highest elevation in the Northeast. I like that Fraelick has captured this peak from an on-par vista point from Bretton Woods. The scene is depicted above the clouds and shows antennae and equipment used by the Mount Washington Observatory for forecasting and broadcasting. Its appearance seems otherworldly. The color palette is cold and solitary, like a secluded island in the sky.”

honorable mention

Title: Willoughby Lake

Location: Westmore, Vermont

Photographer: Thomas H. Mitchell

Judge’s comments: “Glacially made, Lake Willoughby is bordered by Mount Pisgah on its east and Mount Hor on its west side. It’s the deepest lake in New England and is a mere 12,000 years old. The view is of a remarkable landmark in and of itself. Mitchell, however, creates more of an impact by photographing a visual puzzle as he chooses his perspective stance. It’s as if the mountains are twins or reproductions of each other, and these reflections are further replicated in the lake. The negative shape created by the mountains’ faceoff is reflected as well and leads the viewer into the photograph, toward the horizon and beyond.”

about our guest judge

Paula Tognarelli

is the executive director and curator of the Griffin Museum of Photography in Winchester, Massachusetts. She has juried and curated exhibitions around the world and is on the advisory board of the New England School of Photography in Boston. griffinmuseum.org

‘MORE THAN JUST A TREE’

A deadly insect threatens New England’s ash trees and a centuries-old Native American tradition— the weaving of beautiful ash baskets.

BY SARA ANNE DONNELLY

IT’S A PARTICULARLY BUGGY JUNE MORNING IN THE WOODS NORTH OF CARIBOU as Eldon Hanning, Maine’s most prolific ash harvester, stomps through the dense brush looking as though he got lost on the way to the biker bar. Over the multiple layers of DEET he’s doused himself with, Hanning wards off the blackflies with a fraying gray flannel ripped wide over one elbow, faded black jeans, and a black cowboy hat pressed low over his wiry salt-

Ash harvesters and basket weavers Eldon Hanning (right) and his son Frank examine a stand in northern Maine.

OPPOSITE : A view into the ash canopy high overhead.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY CARL TREMBLAY

“That one,”

he shouts to his son Frank. “And that one over there.” He uses an unlit cigarette to point out the ash trees. Unlit, because Hanning just had a triple bypass, and Doc says he shouldn’t smoke. Doc also says he shouldn’t go out into the woods and handle a chainsaw, or his pacemaker might fritz out and kill him. But Hanning just got a rush order, so Doc be damned.

Hanning grabs the chainsaw before Frank can start it up and cuts a deep gash into the base of a nearby ash. The exhaust of the chainsaw swirls in a thick cloud around him, blurring the distinction between his body and the limbless trunk of his target. For a moment it looks as though the ash won’t drop; it’ll just stand there, forever, balanced on its stump. Then it sways in the breeze. The harvesters take the cue and shove at its base, grunting as they urge it to give way. The ash, finally, wearily, tips

in slow motion, its frizz of leaves high above glowing green in the sunlight as it slips, crackling, through the tree stand to land with a heavy shudder in the forest bed.

After three decades as a harvester, Hanning has an eye for good ash, but it might be more helpful if he had an eye for the bad ones. The emerald ash borer (EAB) beetle, an East Asian insect with an obsession only for ash—a bug that probably arrived here in infested shipping pallets unloaded in Detroit—has chewed the life out of more than 50 million trees since it was discovered in 2002. EAB gets its name from its opalescent green wings. It’s narrow and no longer than a fingernail, looks like a pair of dangly earrings, and has a fierce appetite for ash, particularly green ash and black ash.

The borer burrows into the ash tree through a hole no bigger than an eraser head and kills it by severing its arteries and bleeding it of water and nutrients. About two years after infestation, the

tree begins to look sick: Its lush green leaves shrivel and fall off; its smooth gray bark becomes pocked and pale. Even though it will take another three years for the ash to die completely, by the time the infestation becomes apparent most of the tree is useless. The beetle can survive subzero winters, kills 99 percent of the ash it encounters, and no one has yet figured out a viable way to eradicate it. The bug’s attack could rival the chestnut blight of the early 20th century, in which an Asian fungus virtually erased chestnut trees from the American landscape. Because of its swift and deadly spread, entomologists call EAB the worst pest ever to invade North America.

“It’s more than just a tree,” says Lee Benedict, a Mohawk tree conservationist from Hogansburg, New York. “Ash basketry represents a livelihood to our people, but it’s also an expression of our culture; it’s an expression of our identity and the past and the present and the future.”

The extinction of the ash tree would have a profound effect on Native American culture in New England, as well, particularly in Maine, where black-ash basketry remains an important source of income. Weaving patterns specific to each family have been passed down through generations, and ash baskets are traditionally exchanged at wedding ceremonies and coveted as goodwill gifts. In other regions of the country, tribes have had to alter the material from which their baskets are woven,

A freshly sawn trunk. Black-ash growth rings aren’t as firmly connected to each other as they are in other tree species, making layers easier to separate for use as splints in basketmaking.

mostly because of forced migration or blight. But New England ash basketry is one of the rare tribal traditions that has never had to change. Until now.

“I’m worried about it, yeah,” Hanning says of the ash borer. “I got to figure out a way to go out, cut the logs, process ’em, store the wood, not only for myself but for other basketmakers.”

Black ash has a body like a supermodel. Tall and slender, the tree can grow up to 150 feet, with a wide network of roots that sets it apart and makes it look aloof even in the densest forest. Also known as brown ash, it isn’t a particularly populous tree—it makes up only about 3 percent

of forests, or about eight billion trees nationwide, mostly in the upper Midwest and the Northeast—and it hasn’t enjoyed the same status in American consciousness of, say, the mighty oak or the bountiful apple tree.

In fact, ash is considered something of a junk wood; it’s most commonly burned in campfires. When it’s not being torched, it’s typically turned into baseball bats, paddles, snowshoes, or chair backs—but these objects are often made from other materials, too, and so although the invasive pest may be an inconvenience for those artisans, it’s not a lifestyle changer in the way it is for ash basketmakers.

Today the borer has been found in 25 states around the country. The bug on its own is a bit of a slowpoke—it flies about two miles a year, total—but it spreads much faster as a stowaway in ash firewood carried across state lines by campers. Entomologists now worry that it’s capable of changing forest ecology and costing billions of dollars in lost lumber. In New England, the borer has been discovered in western Massachusetts and Connecticut and near Nashua and Concord in New Hampshire. Rhode Island doesn’t have much ash to speak of, but Vermont and Maine, which have the most ash in New England, have been on high alert for years, although there have as yet been no confirmed sightings of the bug in either state.

The wait is exhausting—like anticipating an earthquake or a hurricane, without knowing when it will happen or how bad it will be. “What exactly are we bracing for?” says Darren Ranco, a Penobscot Indian and chair of Native American programs at the University of Maine. “Is it an avalanche or some sort of slow-moving ooze?” No one knows, really. There are no national predictions of how much ash will die and when. But that’s because the borer has spread much faster than anyone expected.

“Normally, when people find infestations, they’ve been there for four or five years,” says Dave Struble, a state entomologist in Maine. “I suspect it’s here somewhere at a very low level; it just hasn’t reached critical mass where we’re going to detect it. It’s not a cheerful thought, but I think it’s a reality.”

The little green bug has particularly bad timing. While the ash-borer beetle was first opening its wings in North American air, tribes from Michigan to New England and up to Manitoba were launching a renaissance in basketmak-

Traditional Passamaquoddy basketmaker Jeremy Frey at his gallery in Princeton, Maine. His specialty is finely woven baskets incorporating a variety of styles.

ing. The threat to the tradition back then was complacency. Most of the basketweavers were aging or had died, and tribes became worried that the tradition would fade away. Populations that had only one or two basketmakers, faced with the threat of forgetting, began mentoring young basketmakers and harvesters. Hundreds of Native Americans in the Midwest and the Northeast now know how to identify ash trees, harvest and store them, and weave with their wood.

In Maine, a grassroots group called the Maine Indian Basketmakers Alliance led the resurgence in their core basketry tradition, black-ash plaiting. Founded in 1993 to rescue the endangered practice of Native American sweet grass and ash basketry in the state, the alliance has increased its number of member basketmakers from 55 to more than 200 and lowered the average age of Maine baske tmakers from 63 to 40.

Since the ash borer was discovered, the Basketmakers Alliance and the University of Maine have organized regional symposia involving entomologists and state officials to figure out how to store the ash (underwater, possibly, or in ice), how to fight the borer (purple traps seem to attract it, and insecticide works on a tree-by-tree basis), and how to preserve the knowledge (the University of Maine is compiling a video catalogue of basketmakers explaining how to harvest, process, and weave ash). There have been natural diebacks before, but the tree has always rallied and the basketmaking has always continued. How could ash just die away?

Maine tribes are part of the Wabanaki Confederacy. A creation story has the Wabanaki first man, Glooscap, shooting an arrow into an ash tree. “Out of the trees stepped men and women,” reads one version of the legend. “They

were a strong and graceful people with light-brown skins and shining black hair, and Glooscap called them the Wabanaki, which means ‘those who live where the day breaks.’”

“I believe the Creator put the ash tree here for us,” says Richard Silliboy, a seventh-generation basketmaker and a Micmac Indian. “There’s nothing that has ever damaged it to the point that the emerald ash borer does, but I do believe that the Creator will allow it to be here.”

Despite the faith, these symposia can tend to depress. There isn’t much that they can do today to stop it, so basketmakers and harvesters vow to stockpile ash splints in spare bedrooms and closets. In the cramped UMaine conference room, they stand together and pray to the Creator to help their black-ash tree: Kissok pebanemool na abegunumooa wisok.

Jeremy Frey is one of Maine’s youngest and most successful basketmakers. Some of Frey’s intricate baskets sell for upwards of $20,000 to collectors. Jeremy and his younger brother, Gabriel, also a basketmaker, are involved in every aspect of the craft. A typical run includes driving their truck three hours north of Indian Island and 30 miles off the tar, then riding ATVs six miles through mud to get to a stand.

“We go out in the woods,” Jeremy Frey says. “I mean in the woods.” In the woods, typically only five ash out of a hundred are straight and healthy enough for the Freys. The Freys haul those trunks home, strip off the bark, pound the growth rings off them in Jeremy’s driveway, and divide the splints between them. Pounding takes hours. They know they’re done when all of the cream-colored wood has darkened to a reddish brown where the hammer has struck, in a reaction known as “bruising.” Strips of pounded wood are threaded through a splitter, a stand about three feet tall, resembling an isosceles triangle with a narrow groove at the top.

An adult emerald ash borer; distinctive markings left by ash borer larvae are noticeable on this tree at the Esopus Bend Nature Preserve in Saugerties, New York.

OPPOSITE : A selection of Jeremy Frey’s awardwinning works, known as “fancy baskets” for their unusual shapes and weaves, with tools of the artist’s trade. AGE FOTOSTOCK/SUPERSTOCK (BEETLE); MIKE GROLL/AP PHOTO (ASH TREE)

Dr. Irene Davis at the Spaulding National Running Center:

“We get [runners’] histories, assess their structure, and then see what they look like running on the treadmill … We do run naturally … but not everybody develops the patterns that are best for them.”

“Solving the mystery of what’s causing pain is why I’m still in this.”

WE ASK RUNNING SCIENTIST IRENE DAVIS:

If we were born to run, why do our knees hurt so much?

Harvard medical researcher Irene Davis, Ph.D., believes that a lot of what we understand about running is wrong. She also believes something else the world might not be ready for: that a person can be retrained to run differently to lessen the chance of injury, not to mention ridicule. Dr. Davis, 59, uses a variety of tools in her Cambridge, Massachusetts, lab—instrumented treadmills, high-speed cameras, and hawkeyes like herself and her assorted assistants—to create kinder, gentler running styles. We caught up with Dr. Davis at her office and clinic at the new Spaulding National Running Center.

’ve been around runners now for 25 years. When I first started out in physical-therapy school, I didn’t know that this is what I’d be doing. As a student, I loved physics, loved the human body. You start down a path and certain things get presented to you. I’ll never forget one of the first people I saw in a running-injury clinic. He’d trade one injury for another as long as he could run. He’d run one way until his tibia hurt, then he’d run another way until his Achilles hurt. Then he’d start the process again. I remember thinking, ‘Wow, this guy isn’t going to stop. He’s going to do whatever it takes to run.’”

“For most of the people I see, running is an integral part of who they are. When they can’t run, they don’t feel like themselves. When people come to me, it’s the last stop. They’re all abili ties, all ages. They’ve tried everything else—massage, new shoes, orthotics—and none of it has worked. We get their history, assess their structure, and then see what they look like running on the treadmill. What we see is just like when you sit and watch a race. You’ll see people bouncing—sort of loping, really—or shuffling, or eggbeatering, with their legs whipping out to the side. Most

have no idea what they’re doing until we show them on video. It can be surprising. Not everybody runs like Bill Rodgers. We do run naturally—nobody teaches us—but not everybody develops the patterns that are best for them.”

“Solving the mystery of what’s causing pain is why I’m still in this. I’ve always liked mysteries. When I was 15 and my family lived in Sandwich on the Cape, I wrote to J. Edgar Hoover and told him I wanted to work for the FBI. I got a letter back signed by him that said they didn’t let females in, but I could be an administrative assistant. That didn’t go over well with me. Remember Agent 99? She was my hero. I wanted that magic lipstick, where I could kiss people and kill them. I love problem solving. For me an injured runner is a puzzle you’ve got to solve.”

“When I moved back to the area [after many years at the University of Delaware], one of the things I couldn’t wait to do was volunteer at the Boston Marathon. My husband, Darrell Davis, who was in Special Forces, and I were assigned to a section of the finishline medical tent. In 2013 we were going to leave but decided to stay for the last big

by TODD BALF PORTRAIT BY JARED LEEDS

wave of runners. It wasn’t five minutes later that the first bomb went off. Then the second. I knew from my husband that it was a bomb; he’d been in Iraq and knew exactly the sound of bombs like that. We couldn’t see anything from where we were, but the police said that the bomb went off at the finish line. And then they started bringing them in. Basically what you do is you take vitals, clean and wrap wounds, talk to people, tell them you’re not going to leave them, get them to breathe. There’s no morphine, no medication for pain, and some were in a lot of pain. I didn’t even think to call my family to tell them I was all right, because it was intense. Something that seemed like three hours long all happened in about an hour.”

“I was able to get through it because I felt as though I was able to help. We did stay connected with an individual whom we treated in the tent. She’s just an amazing young lady, and that was really healing for me, to be able to know that she made it, she did well, and she didn’t lose her leg. She asked Darrell and me to come back with her to the bombing site for her first time. She will run again.”

ISTOCK

GETTY IMAGES (XRAY)

VINCENT AND HIS LADY

THE AUTHOR HAS NEVER FORGOTTEN A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN SHE NEVER MET.

BY KATE WHOULEY

ILLUSTRATION BY JOE KOVACH

incent was rumpled, his fine gray hair—long, yet thinning—always windblown. He wore a scarf, even in the summertime, as if he were afraid he might catch a cold in his throat. His clothes looked lived-in. You expected that he might smell. But he didn’t. Well—sometimes his hands smelled like fish, but not because he was unclean. Vincent’s lingering scent was the result of his routine.

Every morning, he visited the cannery down by the docks. Collecting scraps, he would fill up the two plastic tubs he kept in the grocery cart he’d snagged from the A&P. He’d push his load up the hill, and then head toward First Beach. That’s where he fed the seagulls. If you were up early, and drove by at just the right moment, you’d see the action: fish heads sailing through the air; gulls circling; Vincent, smiling.

After he’d fed the birds, he’d head back to the Avenue— Bellevue Avenue, in Newport, Rhode Island. He had errands

to do: groceries, books. Most Monday mornings, Vincent would be waiting for us to open the shop. He’d have a list, and we’d get to work.

Vincent was mine. I was new, and no one else wanted him. My colleagues grew impatient, waiting while he formed words—sometimes stuttering, but mostly just slowly. He was nervous, always, and you got the impression that he worried about saying the words right, or saying the right words—take your pick. He introduced and reintroduced himself with his full name for months after our first meeting.

It was the early 1980s, and if you wanted to buy a book, you stopped by your local bookstore. If they didn’t stock the title, they’d offer to order it for you. Vincent placed a lot of orders. He’d press down hard with the bookstore-supplied ballpoint, making sure his data was readable in NCR-paper triplicate. He printed his name in big block letters, all upper-

case. His penmanship was a little shaky, but his information, clear. Vincent left blank the space for a contact number. This was because he was visiting on behalf of someone else, someone who didn’t want her phone number floating around on the white, yellow, and pink copies of a Waldenbooks’ specialorder form. Someone who valued privacy above all.

Vincent visited the bookstore every Monday on behalf of a recluse. His recluse. We gathered—from his movements (always on foot with his grocery cart) and her huge investments in our inventory—that she lived down the Avenue, which is to say: She was wealthy. Picture ornate scrollwork on tall, wrought-iron gates; two-story carriage houses guarding long, winding driveways; stands of trees between home and avenue; backyards edged by steep cliffs, the Atlantic Ocean just below. Picture The Great Gatsby, and then locate the one eccentric lady who doesn’t join the garden party.

She’s inside, upstairs, reading. Or at least that’s where I placed her. I imagined her library with three walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves—walnut or old oak—accessorized by rolling ladders, and one wall—with a southern exposure—banked with mullioned windows. In the winter, she read in the crisp white light. In the summer, she drew the blinds before the heat of the day hit the glass. Just down the hall? Her boudoir: flocked wallpaper, elaborate hand-carved crown molding, high ceilings. And piles of books by her bedside. Ordering so many titles, she must have read all day and half the night.

Did she have help—dusting her bedside table, straightening her stacks, removing mugs of tea grown cold while she was captivated by a twisty plot? Likely, but I never knew for sure. I only knew that Vincent was her emissary, her messenger, her go-between and her go-get-anything guy. He was her face, but not her name, in the world.

I called her Vincent’s lady, but perhaps it would have been more accurate to refer to him as her man Vincent.

In another time, another town, we might have presumed less. But this was Newport, and we knew some of those ladies. They visited us after luncheons, dressed in Chanel and wanting to be led—or followed—around the store, picking up hardcover after hardcover. Sometimes I suggested titles, but always, I carried for them, like an after-school suitor, loaded up with his girl’s homework. When they placed a sleek credit card on the counter with a name like Drexel or Firestone, we’d ink in a tidy sum of five hundred dollars or more on the onionskin charge slip. A visit from one of the ladies on the Avenue could make our week.

We hoped—or I did—that Vincent’s lady wasn’t the wealthy “black widow” rumored to have run over two of her husbands at one end or the other of her winding drive. And when I heard that Sunny von Bülow was in a coma—murder or suicide or weight-loss plan gone wrong—I was relieved to

see Vincent, list in hand, the following Monday. We weren’t sure who she was, but I hoped his lady was balanced, kind; I took heart knowing that she was an eager, wide-ranging reader.

Whenever there was a question about what, precisely, Vincent’s lady wanted (Did she prefer the hardcover or the paperback? Was she willing to wait ten weeks for one of her more obscure requests? ), I handed the phone across the counter to Vincent. As slowly as he spoke, as slowly and painstakingly as he filled out his name on the special-order form, Vincent would press the buttons, summoning his recluse. She always answered. Vincent, on the phone, grew visibly more nervous, speaking only in hesitant affirmatives: Okay, yes, oh, okay, okay, oh, yes, okay.

One day, he put his hand over the receiver. “She wants to speak to you,” he said.

Startled, I took the phone, identified myself by name, asked how I might help. I don’t recall the substance of the conversation, but I remember her voice: refined but not patient, demanding but not mean-spirited. I hung up, astonished and oddly honored. In the history of Vincent and the bookstore, no one had ever spoken to the reclusive reader.

This scenario repeated itself once, then twice, and soon enough, I spoke to Vincent’s lady on a regular basis—whenever there was a question about a book on that week’s list. Her taste was eclectic; she read more nonfiction than fiction, and I dared not recommend any titles to her. But when I figured out that the Monday lists were the direct result of her careful reading of the Sunday New York Times Book Review , I became bolder: referring to reviews, asking her opinions.

The high point in my relationship with Vincent and his lady came one afternoon when the bookstore’s manager buzzed me from the back room: “There’s someone on the phone asking to speak to Miss Kate. I’m guessing that would be you?”

In time, I would leave the bookstore, passing Vincent and his lady to my replacement, who promised that he would take good care of them. I would never meet the recluse, never have tea in her library, never learn her age or her name or even her phone number. In my mind, Vincent’s lady was middle-aged, mysterious by nature, wealthy by accident, and withdrawn by choice. She lived in a 37-room mansion, overflowing with books.

In my mind, she and Vincent dined together in the evenings. Dressed for dinner, two solitary souls in an enormous formal dining room. Their crystal goblets ringing out with their silent toast. They didn’t speak, but it was never awkward. She was thinking about the book she’d just finished, and about the one she would soon begin. And Vincent: He was remembering his early morning with the gulls, and looking forward to a new dawn.

In my mind, Vincent’s lady was middle-aged, mysterious by nature, wealthy by accident, and withdrawn by choice. She lived in a 37-room mansion, overflowing with books.

Captain Doug Fournier, 34, of Belfast, Maine, pilots a tugboat off the coast of Searsport to help dock an oil tanker en route to Bucksport. Fournier, along with his brother, Captain Patrick Fournier, 32, grew up on the tugboats captained by their father, the legendary Arthur J. Fournier. Today, the two brothers continue in his footsteps, running the family business as they usher ships into Maine’s Midcoast ports.

OPPOSITE : Doug Fournier as a toddler in the wheelhouse of a tugboat in Belfast, Maine.

BORN TO BE A

TUGBOAT CAPTAIN

BY IAN ALDRICH

PHOTOGRAPHS BY TRISTAN SPINSKI

very day thousands of merchant vessels and perhaps several hundred mammoth cruise ships ply the oceans, each one needing eventually to come to port. These are the ships we pay attention to, some so large they block the horizon, a wall of steel rocking on the waves. All but unnoticed are the tugboats, seemingly a child’s vision of a boat—but inside those tugboats, steering the steel walls into the safety of the harbor, are the captains.

These men and women aren’t simply glorified tow-truck drivers. No: It could be argued, in fact, that they may just be the most talented and vital captains working the sea. Yet they’re all but invisible unless something goes terribly wrong: A grounded barge or, worse, a massive oil spill thrusts a tugman’s life into the unwelcome spotlight. As these captains like to say, any day they can avoid the front pages or stay off CNN is a good one.

Few know this world as intimately as Doug Fournier, a second-generation tug captain who runs the family business in Belfast, Maine. As they frequently do, his days start early. This one in late August is no exception. It’s 4:30 a.m. and the Sprague shipping terminal in Searsport, Maine, is quietly churning with life: a working scene bathed in yellow sodium light that’s never at rest. Smoke billows from several large, round container buildings filled with liquid asphalt, while nearby a load of recently shipped road salt waits to be hauled away. It’s the same down at the water, where a barge of windmill turbines will soon be emptied. Across the dock, a team

Doug Fournier knows that he’ll be noticed only if something goes wrong. Which is why he describes his job as “hours of boredom with moments of sheer terror.”

COURTESY OF DOUG FOURNIER (INSET)

of deckhands scurry around two red tugs, the Tractor and the Fort Point

Through the inky-black morning Doug Fournier rolls his truck up to the security checkpoint, punctuated by a pair of rolling chain-link fences. He parks and enters a small building, where a guard with heavy eyes sits behind a desk.

“What are you takin’ up?” he asks as Fournier fills out the sign-in sheet.

“The Maersk Katalin ,” he answers. “Bringing her into Bucksport to offload heating oil before she heads back home to St. John [New Brunswick].” He pauses. “That’s the plan, anyway. I just don’t know what the fog is going to be

like today. It was a little soupy coming through downtown Searsport.”

The guard shrugs. “I don’t think it’s going to be that bad,” he says. “The moon was out just a couple of hours ago.”

Fournier raps his fingers on the sign-in sheet. “We’ll see what we have to deal with shortly,” he says.

Soon, Fournier is on the other side of the security fence, where he parks his truck and steps outside to slip on a life jacket. He’s 34, with closely cropped reddish-brown hair and a round face whose youthful appearance is slightly offset by a neatly trimmed goatee. He gives a slight upward tug on his pants belt, then makes his way to the boats. Upon

With a thick fog reducing visibility, Marc Coffey, 22, a deckhand from Searsmont, Maine, works on a Fournier tugboat as it prepares to push an oil tanker into the harbor near Searsport. When the fog lifts, the tanker will be able to dock.

approaching the Fort Point, he looks down at the deck and then back up with a slight smile. “Hope you don’t mind ladders,” he says.

Dressed in brown khakis and a black-collared short-sleeve shirt, Fournier bounds easily onto the boat, walks briskly across the deck, and then steps onto the Tractor, an 85-foot tug whose 3,000-horsepower engine is easing into a steady rumble. He climbs the steps to the wheelhouse and then takes his seat in the captain’s chair. In the distance, the steady orange lights of the Maersk Katalin, a barge about the size of two football fields with a carrying capacity of 10 million gallons of oil, dot the blackness.

The inside of the wheelhouse is a comfortable place of big windows and wood-paneled walls. The décor is functional. Three CB radios swing from the ceiling, while a trio of monitors hang at eye level. Near the steering controls sit a beefy pair of black binoculars and a thick red-covered logbook. As the morning deepens, the Tractor is untethered and Fournier begins his commute. The Fort Point follows behind. The calm harbor is an easy pathway, still and peaceful. Lobster buoys gently ride the calm water, and as the sky lightens, the contours of the surrounding landscape—Sears Island, Cape Rosier, the north tip of Islesboro—come into view.

Fournier’s feel for these waters and for his boat stems from experience and genetics. From the time he could just about walk, his father, Arthur Fournier, a longtime tug captain, had him inside a wheelhouse. Before he was old enough to shave, Fournier ran tugs with his dad in Portland Harbor; at 19, an age when new recruits are just getting their first taste of the Maine Maritime Academy, he already had his captain’s license. By his midtwenties he was running the family business in Belfast. Today, Fournier owns and operates Penobscot Bay Tractor Tug Company with his younger brother, Patrick. From a first-floor office overlooking Belfast Harbor, they schedule some 300 jobs a year, many of them handled by the Fourniers themselves.

At slow speeds and in shallow waters, the freighters that bring our fossil fuels and big machinery into port are at the mercy of winds and currents. Tugs stabilize and direct them into harbors. It’s a slow, meticulous dance of pushing and pulling, one that sometimes must contend with turbulent weather, with little room for error. It’s why tug captains are considered some of the finest practitioners of their craft. In New York, Boston, and Portland harbors, Fournier’s father prided himself on guiding wide ships under bridges where there was just a few feet to spare between the pilings.

There are no serious obstacles on this day. But the fog persists. About an hour into the trip, Fournier’s phone rings. It’s the docking pilot, who, from his perch inside the big ship’s wheelhouse, directs the tanker and tug captains on how to navigate the harbor. “He’s calling my cell phone,” Fournier says, tightening his lips. “That’s never a good thing.”

The news is immediate: The fog is too thick upriver to continue. They’ll have to try again at the next tide, in late afternoon. “It’s the nature of the business,” Fournier says, wheeling his tug around to point it back to Searsport. “We’re working around the elements. That’s what controls what we do.”

A tugboat and a freighter do a slow, meticulous dance of pushing and pulling, sometimes in turbulent weather, with little room for error.

Tugboats wield a power over the imagination like few other boats. Their bright colors, their stout design, their plodding pace—they’re working ships with a playful appeal. But the allure and uncertainty of what these vessels do also carry weight, says Ron Hawkins, a native Mainer and tug captain who left his family’s windjammer business some 30 years ago to work for Arthur Fournier. “There’s a romance to it that attracts a young guy,” says Hawkins, who learned the business under Arthur Fournier and now works for Doug. “There’s something about a 24-hour industry. You hear a train whistle in the middle of the night, or a tug whistle, and you wonder, What are they doing? Where are they going? It’s a mystery.”

There was never any question that Doug Four nier would seek out the mystery. His late father, Arthur, who made his life on the sea driving tugs, made sure of that. Arthur left school in Massachusetts after the seventh grade and by the age of 15 was a deckhand on a barge running up and down the East Coast, picking up coal, shoe leather, and fertilizer.

Before he was 20, Arthur had his own boat, the St. Theresa , a 45-foot wooden tug that he’d bought for a buck, salvaged from the bottom of the Charles River, and restored in the backyard of his family’s home. In a fit of frugality that would define his life, he powered it with an old motor from a wrecked Greyhound bus.

Over the next several decades, Arthur got to know every inlet, current, and waterway of the Northeast harbors. In the early years especially, he was a one-man operation, relishing going up against and securing jobs from bigger, more established competitors. In New York, he was known by other boatmen as “the captain with a dog for a deckhand” for frequently doing work that required two or three other men.

Standing just over five feet, favoring a wardrobe of black sneakers and grease-stained corduroys, Arthur could at times seem like a character from a Martin Scorsese film. “On a good day, every other word was a swear word,” a longtime captain once recalled, “but on a bad day, it was just a slobber of profanity.” In 1972, he was caught in a gunfight against three assailants at his office in Charlestown, Massachusetts. He took 12 bullets during the exchange, but not before unloading four shots into one of his attackers and successfully fending the group off.

By the mid-1980s, Arthur had moved north to Maine: first to Belfast, where he revamped an aging tug outfit he’d bought; then to Portland, where he upended the city’s tug business by driving out Moran Towing Company, which had held a virtual lock on harbor work in the city for nearly half a century. For four long years, Arthur picked away at his moreestablished competitors until finally Moran pulled its boats. “Don’t gloat,” a company executive told Arthur coldly.

Tug work defined everything about the elder Fournier. It made him wealthy, shaped his greatest successes, and framed

his biggest tragedies. In 1985, his oldest son, Billy, died trying to save another man in an accident aboard a barge in Belfast, Maine. Not even the discovery of his cancer got him to slow down enough for treatment. Then, when his 82-year-old body was weakened he could push himself no longer, he had his bed positioned so that he could look out at the water from his South Portland home to see boats marching across the horizon.

But as Arthur Fournier put his work ahead of nearly everything else in his life, he also forged complicated relationships with those around him. He was a demanding boss with a quick temper, and he passed and pushed his passion for tugs onto his kids. His four sons all followed him into the business: Billy and Brian, from his first marriage; Doug and Patrick from his second. The father’s work framed his relationship with his boys. After dinner he’d pull out his copy of the American Bureau of Shipping and randomly open to different boat profiles. Doug and Patrick were expected to know a boat’s details: its size, the type of engine it used, where it was made. Family vacations were often spent in New York City to watch the tugs run the harbor. Later, father and sons finished their stay by visiting a salvage yard on Staten Island to climb around the old boats.

“He’d take us out of school if he needed us,” Doug remembers. “I’d get pulled out of class and think something tragic had happened, but no, he needed us to help him dock a ship.”

When he was 15, Doug Fournier was plying the calm Portland waters with his own tug, a 26-footer called the Pushy. It wasn’t just a hobby toy: It was a part of the Fournier fleet and used on jobs that Arthur’s bigger boats couldn’t handle. The most notable of those came in the summer of 1997, when a ship caught fire in Portland Harbor. Arthur’s larger tugs couldn’t reach her, so the call went out for the Pushy. Through the smoke and flames, Doug and Patrick moved the burning mess onto mud flats, where firefighters could reach her.

Five years later, Fournier was licensed to run his father’s entire fleet. “It was just expected that I would become a tug captain,” he says. “There wasn’t an option to do anything else. My dad would say, ‘You’re going to go to college and do what? Work at McDonald’s?’ That was his famous line. He’d tell us we could have everything we want if we just work. He was right.”

Today, the Fournier headquarters in Belfast serves as a sort of museum of the industry and the family business. A large photograph of a smiling Billy hangs just outside Doug’s office. On the other walls there are framed pictures of memorable jobs and past tugs, including some of Arthur’s earliest boats. One of the largest images is an aerial shot of the now-retired ocean liner Queen Elizabeth 2 , when it was docked at Bar Harbor in the fall of 2007. Anchored next to it is the Tractor, which Fournier and his brother Patrick captained during the big ship’s stay. Along for the job was their father.

“It brings up a lot of nostalgia,” Fournier says of the image. “I remember seeing pictures of the QE2 in places all over the world, and before I was even old enough to be a deckhand, I’d ride out with my father and see it when it came to Maine. Later, when it came to Portland, I assisted my father with it.

Tug work defined everything about Arthur Fournier.

So when the chance came up in Bar Harbor, I couldn’t pass it up. That was one job I wasn’t going to miss.”

Hours later, the fog is long gone and an evening sun has poked through the clouds as Fournier pulls the Tractor in behind the Maersk Katalin. He’s been running with the tanker for a good 45 minutes, but now, near the Penobscot Bay Bridge, the captain gets in tight. The full girth of the steel ship is on full display, and Fournier’s 365-ton tug looks like a toy in comparison.

When Fournier is within just a few feet of his target, a deckhand throws the casting rope to the tanker; it will tie the Tractor ’s beefy blue line to the larger ship. Up ahead, Fournier’s other tug, the Fort Point, is tying on as well. Over the next three-quarters of a mile, tugs and ship run together.

Fournier works calmly. He’s a bridge between the scrappy, self-reliant business his father cut his teeth on and the modern, computer-driven industry of today. He still likes working on boat engines, and when he’s short on crew, he’ll take the reins of the deckhand work. But the boats themselves afford a level of technology his father never could have imagined when he started out in the business more than 60 years ago. Back then, Arthur Fournier navigated by magnetic compass and a paper chart. Today, the Tractor is outfitted with digital radar, GPS, and chart-navigation software offering near-perfect positional accuracy. An autopilot feature lets Fournier punch a route into a chart plotter, which with a push of a button allows the tug to

steer itself to its destination. On his iPhone he can even track another vessel and call up necessary info about it, including its size, draft, speed, and position. “If we have a ship scheduled to dock in Searsport in the middle of the night, the first thing I do when I wake up is to check Marine Traffic to make sure the vessel is on schedule,” he explains. “It allows me to keep an eye on our fleet when my crew is out on a job and I’m in the office or out of town. I know where they are at all times.”

But unpredictability is still a part of the work: a sudden engine failure; a bout of weather; an emergency call. Just a week earlier, Fournier was called to tow in an 80-foot yacht whose motor had died just off Islesboro. The scheduling, too, can get complicated. This morning’s change means that he’ll be home at 9:00 tonight, then back on the job the next afternoon to bring in another shipment of oil. A few hours after that, he’ll tow the Maersk Katalin back out to sea. That lack of routine caters to Fournier; it means he’s never completely untethered from his work. He’s like his father in that way. He finds meaning in what he does. It’s who he is. It’s what he enjoys doing. It’s why he hasn’t burned out or taken a real vacation in the last 12 years. “I’d worry about the business too much if I was away,” he says. “Maybe I’ll ease back at some point, but I don’t know. My father never did. He could never let go. He worried about it. Three years before he died he could race up and down a ladder twice as fast as me. He had no intention of sitting in a rocking chair and fading away.”

As it nears 7:30, the sky above Bucksport has grown overcast again, and a mild fog has settled just above the tall pines along the water. Near the shore, a scattering of anchored pleasure boats ride along the gentle water. Up ahead lies the Maersk Katalin ’s destination for the night: the dock at the recently closed paper mill, a darkened collection of big, boxy buildings and tall smokestacks.

The ride since the bridge has required a series of small adjustments. Easing forward to run with the Maersk Katalin, then easing back to slow her down. It’s over the journey’s final 100 yards, however, that the work becomes the most detailed. Precise orders come over the radio from the pilot to push, pull, and hold as he works to position the big ship to slowly and easily slide up to the dock: “Tractor, down to a minimum; Tractor, stop and hold; Tractor, minimum back.” On it goes until the Maersk Katalin is in place and tied up.

“Kind of boring,” Fournier says. He smiles. “But the best kinds of joys are boring in this business. Hours of boredom with moments of sheer terror.” Fournier then hits the throttle and pushes his boat to the dock to be tied up for the night as well. A truck is parked nearby. It’s time go home so that he can catch some brief sleep and start the day all over again.

Doug (left) and Patrick Fournier with their late father, Arthur J. Fournier. “My father never [eased back],” Doug says today. “He could never let go … Three years before he died he could race up and down a ladder twice as fast as me.”

“It was just expected that I would become a tug captain,” Doug Fournier says. “There wasn’t an option to do anything else.”

FOLLOW US

WHILE MUCH OF THE WORLD FRETS ABOUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT COMMUNITIES ARE SHOWING THAT RESOURCEFULNESS AND INGENUITY

ENERGY RESOURCES AND CLIMATE CHANGE, THREE NEW ENGLAND CAN STILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

BY HOWARD MANSFIELD

PHOTOGRAPHS BY BOB O’CONNOR • ILLUSTRATION BY CARL WIENS

The Milford Town Hall fills up almost an hour before the meeting. It’s a small room—seating only 220—for this “scoping” session, held last July by the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to study the environmental impact of a proposed natural- gas pipeline. It would run through Massachusetts and 17 New Hampshire towns, including Milford. As more people arrive, they’re directed to an overflow room to watch the proceedings on a video feed. Outside in the rain, pipeline opponents on the common are waving signs to get cars to honk.

It’s surprisingly festive in the hall. Many of those waiting to testify know one another and are catching up. Since the pipeline was first announced in 2014, a dedicated opposition has grown up. They populate the hall in neon-yellow “Stop the Pipeline” T-shirts, a few yellow hoodies, and some armbands. A woman gives out “Stop the Pipeline” stickers, which some people add to their armbands.

Every now and then a young guy walks up to the front of the hall holding up two large poster boards he’s just been writing on: Clean says the first board; the second says Energy Now!!! Each time he does this, the room cheers as if we’re at a football game. Let’s go! Get in there, solar power, and fight! Fight! Fight! The mood darkens once the meeting is under way; a watchful anxiety spreads.

Clean Energy Now!!! That, in three words, is the argument of the pipeline’s opponents. Natural gas is advertised as clean, but that doesn’t account for the hundreds of chemicals used in fracking to force it out, or all the methane that’s released, say the opponents. Alternative technologies are being ignored. There’s a different future out there, they say. Inevitably they’re derided as “nimbys” (“Not in My Backyard”) but the opponents point to many communities that are saying yes to these alternative technologies—communities that are saying “Yes in My Backyard”—and yet we don’t hear very much about these “yimbys.” I set out to see for myself the future of clean energy in Maine, Connecticut, and Vermont, creating a big carbon footprint in my quest for a smaller one.

In the old days—let’s say 30 years ago— you had one phone company, three television networks, five or six major car brands. All of that has been “disrupted,” to use the popular word of the moment among tech entrepreneurs. All that’s really left of that old world is our power grid. That power bill you pay monthly, that’s not just your father’s bill; that’s your great-grandfather’s bill. Our grid is just an aging version of how it was in its pioneering days at the start of the last century. The joke in the industry is that if Edison came back today, he’d easily recognize the power grid. But ye olde grid is in rough shape.

The United States has more power outages than any other developed country, and it’s getting worse. Since 2000 the number of major outages has doubled every five years. In an average year a New England resident will be without power for three and a half hours; in Japan the average yearly outage is four minutes. One major engineering organization grades our power grid as a D+.

The grid is old and it’s vulnerable. One federal study found that if terrorists shut down just nine of 55,000 transfer substations and a transformer manufacturer on a hot summer day,

the country could be plunged into the black for 18 months—or more. The Pentagon is bailing out. The military knows that it can no longer rely on the usual utilities to power its bases; it’s building microgrids that can operate on their own if there’s a blackout. The Pentagon has also become the world’s largest buyer of renewable energy. (It’s concerned about our domestic oil supply. One of its studies showed that terrorists could shut down threequarters of the oil used in the eastern U.S. without leaving Louisiana.)

A massive reinvestment is coming to improve that D+ grade, and it could revolutionize the way we get electricity. Instead of adding to big centralized power plants, new technology will be local (“distributed” is the term)— solar panels, battery backups, biomass (wood chips), windmills—and it will employ many techniques to reduce peak demand. By 2040 renewables will produce almost half of all electricity worldwide. In just the first half of last year, 70 percent of new electric-power generation in the U.S. was from renewables. “The days of monopolized power are coming to an end,” said one respondent in a survey of the utility industry. “Get smart or get out of the way.”

This is the story hiding behind the battles over building new powerlines, natural-gas pipelines, and large windmills. A revolution is underway—one that’s taking place without the protests surrounding pipelines, wind farms, and other huge projects. What does it look like?

The first stop on my yimby tour is Boothbay, Maine. I drive into town like a tourist, stutter-stepping down narrow streets: Is this one-way? Can I turn here? Is that a parking space? It’s this kind of three-blind-mice traffic that makes locals crazy. Desperate to live in a town where people actually know where they’re going, they put up more and more signs, which only further confuse visitors. It’s a pretty town, but this is just about the last I’ll see of postcard Boothbay. I meet Dan Blais, and we tour the backs of convenience stores, shopping centers, and an industrial park by a gravel pit—Wish you were here? —and, mercifully, the front of one inn. It’s a tour of

tan Dumpster-sized boxes, white tractortrailer-sized boxes, little tan boxes with fans, and solar panels. He talks kilowatt hours, functionality, syncing.

Blais manages GridSolar’s Boothbay Pilot Project. GridSolar is a private Portland company that, along with environmental groups, challenged Central Maine Power when it wanted to build new transmission lines across the peninsula to Boothbay to cover the peak hours of summer demand. GridSolar said it had a different solution and won the right to try it out. Eight years ago, the utility doubted it would work. GridSolar installed rooftop solar panels on hotels and municipal buildings, efficient LED lighting, backup batteries, and Ice Bears, a kind of air conditioning that makes ice at night to be used later

for cooling at peak demand times. It also installed a backup diesel generator.

In an industrial park, Blais shows me the diesel generator, a 25-foot-long trailer known as a BUG (backup utility generator). It wasn’t anyone’s first choice; funding for a solution using renewable energy fell through. It’s not ideal, but Blais points out that if it’s called into use, the emissions would be the same as a dump truck’s. None of the backups has yet been needed; they’ve run only during tests.

Farther into the industrial park, by a gravel pit, we look at three long white shipping containers housing backup batteries. It looks like a pristine NASA installation, as though a Mars Rover could pull up alongside. Everything else nearby is weathered and worn, looking

THIS IS WHAT THE FUTURE MAY LOOK LIKE: INCREMENTAL TECHNOLOGICAL IMPROVEMENTS GOING ON ALL AROUND US.

Dan Blais is the project manager for an innovative pilot solar-energy effort in Boothbay, Maine.

Dan is the project an innovative in Boothbay, Maine.

as though Maine has had its day—old, leaning tractor trailers, a left-behind boat (of course), and a big barn of a garage. But these batteries look as though they’re still an artist’s rendering, a fresh idea.

The other gadgets are unexceptional, like the Ice Bears, light-brown Dumpster-sized boxes that look like the usual stuff behind buildings. It’s undramatic, but it’s the face of the revolution going on right now. This is what the future may look like. The future was supposed to be flying cars and the Pan Am Clipper to the moon, but this might be it: incremental technological improvements going on all around us—and that’s why we’re missing it. The future wasn’t supposed to arrive wrapped in dull boxes.

But these dull boxes have produced big results. GridSolar has provided enough backup and reduced the peak demand such that the transmission line won’t have to be built, saving ratepayers $12 million. The company is looking to bring this approach next to Midcoast Maine and Portland in

larger projects that could save $50 million or more.

The Acadia Center, a nonprofit that advocates for a clean-energy economy, was one of the environmental groups that fought for the Boothbay Pilot Project. “We’re very excited by this pilot. It shows that the model can work,” says Daniel Sosland, the center’s president. “The energy future isn’t going to be in big power plants and transmission lines. The system’s really going to shift and transform dramatically. Communities are where the energy resources can be located. They’re cheaper, they’re cleaner, and they offer consumers more control over their energy bills and energy choices.” He is, however, disappointed by the backup diesel generator and doesn’t want to see that in future projects.

More important, Sosland points out that canceling the transmission line

saved money for ratepayers in all six New England states. Each state’s ratepayers are billed for any project to improve a transmission line’s reliability. But, under current regulations, alternative technology like that in Boothbay has to be paid for solely by the state. The deck is stacked for the old way of doing things. This needs to be fixed, Sosland says. He points out that a heavy investment in energy efficiency by Massachusetts and Vermont canceled more than $400 million in transmission-line work, which would have been paid for by anyone who turned on a light in New England.

Central Maine Power is reserving judgment on the Pilot Project until the full testing period is completed in 2018. “We certainly support the testing of different methods for providing reliable service, which can include alternatives to building transmission,” says company spokesman John Carroll. He agrees that “it’s absolutely the way the industry is going” and that the utility has “a real obligation to look at all types of solutions,” but the company is cautious,

Special-purpose batteries fill racks inside one of three shipping containers (photo OPPOSITE , BOTTOM ), part of a revolutionary new power system in Boothbay, Maine.

keeping its options open. The Boothbay peninsula has only one transmission line, and CMP wants to be convinced that the Pilot Project will be reliable. “It may be an interim solution,” Carroll adds, “and eventually we’ll need to build a transmission line.”

We emerge from the back of build ings to visit Brown’s Wharf Inn. The owner, Tim Brown, whom we flag down while he’s mowing, has gone all in: new HVAC cooling units, solar on the roof, LED lighting. He’s pleased. He’d do more; he only wishes that he’d put solar on his own house when Maine was offering rebates, but he didn’t get to it. The inn came first.

Brown was recently in Germany, where one can see huge windmills next to castles, he says. The Germans have great trains—he’d like to see that here, too. Once you start changing a few lightbulbs, it seems, you begin to see that new things are possible.

I leave Boothbay with one question. This pilot project used less than 1 percent of Boothbay’s rooftop space for solar panels—why not do more?

After a series of devastating storms, Connecticut passed major legislation in 2011, known as Public Act 11-80, to create a Green Bank to fund “energy resiliency.” Each dollar of state money would be matched by $10 of private investment. In the first year, 11 projects received the go-ahead, but 10 stumbled out of the gate, failing to line up the right financing. Things are now going better. The use of renewable power has grown tenfold. Rooftop solar installations are soaring, while wind was stalled for years as the state wrestled with where turbines should be allowed.

But it’s the planned microgrids that have attracted national interest. A microgrid can stand alone when the rest of the grid goes down; it has enough generators and storage to operate independently. Eleven projects have received funding; three are complete. I’m here to visit the first one, at Wesleyan University in Middletown, driving onto a campus where students, in communion with their smartphones, drift across the roads like jellyfish in the current. They never look up.

FROM TOP : In Boothbay, Maine, Dan Blais checks solar-panel power output remotely on his smartphone; Ice Bear air conditioners make ice at night, to be used later to deliver cooling during peak daytime demand times; these three shipping containers in Boothbay house backup batteries ( OPPOSITE , TOP ) as part of GridSolar’s innovative pilot project.

I meet Alan Rubacha, a fast-talking, fast-walking optimist who has worked at Wesleyan for 15 years, the last three as director of its physical plant. He’s responsible for about 80 buildings and a small power grid that requires six employees to run. Rubacha offers me some water, and as I’m nodding yes, he disappears, then pops back into the room indicating that I should follow him. In the few seconds it takes me to get up, he’s gone again. Out in the hall, I locate him by following his voice, around a corner and down another hall. He’s on his phone, which he is often. During our short interview, he’s texting and taking calls.

Wesleyan’s microgrid is a bit deceiving. It was already in place, with the exception of an extension to the Freeman Athletic Center, a 300,000-square-foot building to which was added a big co-generation plant to produce electricity and heat. In an emergency, the athletic center will be a FEMA distribution point. The staff holds drills annually.

The university has been managing its own power system since the 1960s. It added a natural-gas generator in 2009 and is adding solar now. The local utility supplies only one-sixtieth of Wesleyan’s electricity; the rest is generated on campus. The university can “island”: run separately in a blackout. It’s resilient. Wesleyan won the race by starting one foot from the finish line.

Still, these people put it all together, and the world has come to see their microgrid. Rubacha has had visitors from 40 states and as far away as Australia and New Zealand. Even so, this isn’t going to be the solution for most places, he says. Connecticut has been “really forward-thinking” he notes, but “what they found is that it’s harder to do than you think.” It demands an expensive infrastructure. The university is set up to work on that and is committed to reducing energy use, cutting 30 percent in the last five years, while the square footage has increased slightly. The university continues to pursue savings in everything it does, installing things like new windows and more-efficient motors.

, FROM TOP : Alan Rubacha, director of Wesleyan University’s physical plant in Middletown, Connecticut; electric cars dot the campus; 676-kilowatt Guascor SFGLD360 engine, part of Wesleyan’s microgrid. OPPOSITE : Inside the co-generation plant.

CONNECTICUT

MAR. 6: CHESHIRE, Train Show. More than 70 dealers pack seven rooms at Cheshire High School’s annual show featuring all things railrelated, along with movies, clinics and workshops, and good food as well. 203-265-7527

MAR. 12: HARTFORD, St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Rain or shine, the 45th annual event starts on Capitol Avenue and marches down Main, Asylum, and Ford streets en route to its terminus at Memorial Arch. For the best view, stake out seats along the parade route early. irishamericanparade.com

MAR. 12–13: HEBRON, Annual Hebron Maple Festival. Celebrate the sweet-and-sticky season by learning how maple syrup is produced. Take in sugarhouse tours and demonstrations, then indulge in an abundance of maple treats. With children’s activities, a craft fair, and more at locations about town. hebronmaplefest.com

MAR. 18–20: NEW LONDON, Southeastern Connect icut Home Show. For the 35th year, 125 decorating and remodeling exhibitors set up at Dayton Arena & Athletic Center at Connecticut College. Bring nonperishable food items for the United Way drive and get a $1 discount on admission. 860-563-2111; osbornejenks.com

MAR. 18–20: OLD GREENWICH, Ephemera 36: International Vintage Paper Fair & Conference. Intriguing history can be found in the smallest details: political posters, postcards, stamps, and more. This year’s theme is “Politics, Patriotism & Protests.” More than 90 exhibitors set up at the Hyatt Regency for a weekend of deals, discussions, presentations, and auctions. 315-6559139; ephemerasociety.org

MAR. 20: MYSTIC, 13th Annual Irish Parade. One of the region’s largest such events, this celebration of the city’s Irish heritage kicks off from Mystic Seaport’s south lot and makes for a lively spectacle on its way downtown, with an array of floats and more than 25 marching bands. mysticirishparade.org

MAR. 31–APR. 1: HARTFORD, “Having Our Say”: The Delany Sisters’ First 100 Years. The New York Times called it “the most provocative and entertaining family play to reach Broadway in a long time.” Now Hartford Stage presents the tale of the last century as told by centenarian sisters Sadie and Bessie Delany, daughters of a former slave, who grew up in the Jim Crow South and lived in Harlem during its Renaissance. 860-527-5151; hartfordstage.org

APR. 2–3: WATERBURY, 33rd Annual Cactus & Succulent Show & Sale. The largest show of its kind in New England, this judged exhibition at Naugatuck Valley Community Center features more than 500 entries in 100 categories, plus vendors offering a huge selection of plants and wares for sale. Free plants are awarded to the first 50 families admitted each day. ctcactusclub.com

APR. 9: WETHERSFIELD, 11th Annual Taste of Wethersfield. Secure your tickets in advance for this fashionable fundraiser for the Wethersfield Historical Society, held at Keeney Memorial Cultural Center, and settle in for excellent food and beverages, much com-

munity spirit, a silent auction, and live entertainment. 860-529-7656; wethhist.org

APR. 10: TOLLAND, 50th Antiques Show. The Historical Society transforms Tolland Middle School into a distinguished showplace for 18th- and 19th-century furniture, accessories, folk art, rugs, early iron, and more. tollandhistorical.org

APR. 16–17: SOUTHBURY, Spring Shower of Quilts. The Connecticut Piecemakers Quilt Guild offers an expansive show at the Crowne Plaza, with appraisals, demonstrations, exhibits, a raffle, and more. ctpiecemakers.org

APR. 17: NEWTOWN, Borealis Wind Quintet. Formed at Juilliard in 1976, Borealis has evolved into one of the nation’s elite chamber ensembles. Don’t miss this appearance at Edmond Town Hall on Main Street. 203426-6470; newtownfriendsofmusic.org

APR. 24: NEW HAVEN, 43rd Annual Cherry Blossom Festival. Enjoy the sight and fragrance of 72 Yoshino Japanese cherry-blossom trees in all their spring glory around historic Wooster Square. The city celebrates with musical performances throughout the afternoon, exhibits and demonstrations, creative kids’ activities, and a variety of fine foods. historic woostersquare.org

APR. 28–30: STAMFORD, Northeast PEZ Collectors Gathering. This celebration of the iconic candy and its signature dispensers has been going strong for 18 years. After a day of games, auctions, exhibits, swaps, and pretty much everything PEZ at the Sheraton hotel, punctuate your visit with a stop at the PEZ Visitors Center in nearby Orange. 843-868-1739; pez gathering.com

APR. 30–MAY 1: MERIDEN, 38th Annual Daffodil Festival. More than 600,000 daffodils have sprung up within Hubbard Park, and it’s a sight for winter-weary eyes. Simply stroll through the park, or enjoy the parade, fireworks, craft fair, carnival rides, great food from local vendors, and more. 203-630-4259; daffodilfest.com

MAINE

MAR. 1–12: STATEWIDE, Maine Restaurant Week. Dozens of the state’s independent and locally owned restaurants offer events and discount prices, creating a great opportunity to revisit an old favorite or to try something new. Check the website for details. 207-7752126; mainerestaurantweek.com

MAR. 2: PORTLAND, Salzburg Marionette Theatre: “The Sound of Music.” Celebrate the 51st anniversary of the beloved classic film as Merrill Auditorium hosts the Salzburg Marionette Theater, treasured around the world for its artistic perfection. 207-842-0800; portlandovations.org/shows

MAR. 12–17: BATH, Blarney Days. The City of Ships hosts the state’s largest celebration of the Irish with nightly music and film events, a 5K Shamrock Sprint, dances, dinners, an Irish soda-bread bake-off, and of course the annual parade of floats, marching bands, and zany costumed characters. 207-442-7291; visitbath.com

MAR. 18–20: PORTLAND, Maine Boatbuilders Show. At the Portland Company complex, this gathering brings together the finest builders of custom fiberglass and wooden boats on the East Coast, plus numerous manufacturers of boating equipment, all ready to discuss and sell their work. 207-774-1067; portlandyacht.com

MAR. 19: BRIDGTON, Spring Fling. Now in its 32nd year, this Shawnee Peak tradition features music, entertainment, the Slush Cup pond-skimming competition, and plenty of time for lounging on the Blizzard’s Pub party deck. 207-647-8444; shawneepeak.com

MAR. 19–20: LEWISTON, Maine Home Show. Meet local builders and contractors and check out more than 100 booths of home-related products and services, from lawn-care equipment and landscape design to windows and doors, from kitchens and baths to insulation, weatherization, and more, all at the Androscoggin Bank Colisée. mainehomeshow.com

MAR. 29–APR. 17: PORTLAND, “My Name Is Archer Lev.” Portland Stage presents the award-winning play based on the best-selling novel by Chaim Potok. It’s the powerful story of a boy prodigy who is driven to be a painter at any cost—against the will of family, community, and tradition. 207-774-0465; portland stage.org

APR. 2–3: NEWRY, Spring Festival. From the Parrothead lineup of Jimmy Buffet tribute bands to the Eat the Heat Chili Cookoff and Firefighters’ Race, this Sunday River event offers something for everyone. A margarita mix-off, a key-lime pie-eating contest, pond skimming competitions, and outdoor concerts add to the lighthearted fun. 207-8243000; sundayriver.com

APR. 3: PORTLAND, 30th Annual Chocolate Lovers’ Fling. Local chocolatiers gather at the

Marriott Sable Oaks to showcase their creativity and serve up ther ultimate chocolate confections, hoping to win your vote in the coveted People’s Choice category. With a silent auction to benefit an area nonprofit. 207-828-1035; chocolateloversfling.org

APR. 15–17: BANGOR, Garden Show. Once a year, Cross Insurance Center is transformed into a gardener’s dream. Meet vendors, see demonstrations, and take in exhibits in keeping with this year’s “flower carnival” theme. 207-947-5555; bangorgardenshow.com

APR 15–17: OGUNQUIT, Patriots’ Day Celebration. Historical characters offer insights into the past with scheduled reenactments throughout the weekend, plus a treasure hunt and a variety of activities to suit all ages at downtown locations. 207-646-2939; visit ogunquit.org

APR. 16: BATH, Women of Folk: The New Revival. Bringing together the vocal prowess of Lucy Wainwright Roche and Sloan Wainwright with the stunning harmonies of EVA, an all-female harmony group, this show at Chocolate Church Arts Center melds folk, blues, gospel, and rock. 207-442-8455; chocolatechurch.com

APR. 16: DENMARK, 22nd Annual Sheepfest. From humble beginnings, this festival at the Arts Center has grown each year. The focus is on shearing and prepping the fleece, with demonstrations of creative uses of wool, too. denmarksheepfest.com

APR. 16: PENOBSCOT COUNTY, Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race. The 50th running of the largest paddling event in New England follows a 16.5-mile course from Kenduskeag to Bangor. If you’re attending as a spectator, brave the crowds near the rapids of Six Mile Falls for some “thrill of victory, agony of defeat” moments. kenduskeagstreamcanoe race.com

APR. 22–24: BOOTHBAY HARBOR, Fishermen’s Festival. The community celebrates local fishermen with the crowning of Miss Shrimp, lobster-hauling competitions, tug-o-war, and foot races over lobster traps or while dressed in rain gear and carrying a codfish. The weekend concludes with the blessing of the fleet, a solemn observance featuring a parade of fishing vessels. boothbay harbor.com

MASSACHUSETTS

MAR. 5–6, 12–13, 19–20, 26–27: STURBRIDGE, Maple Days. The sweet season is back again—enjoy sugaring demonstrations and learn how the task would have been done in the 19th century at Old Sturbridge Village. 508-347-0323; osv.org

MAR. 5–20: NORTHAMPTON, Spring Bulb Show. Get an early glimpse of spring with this spectacular array of more than 5,000 blooms, from crocuses and hyacinths to irises, lilies, tulips, and more, a longstanding tradition at Smith College’s Lyman Conservatory. 413-585-2740; smith.edu

MAR. 16–20: BOSTON, Flower & Garden Show. This year’s theme is “nurtured by nature.” With more than 20 professionally designed gardens on display, the Seaport World Trade Center is the place to be for expert advice, retail vendors, floral competitions, and more. 781-237-5533; bostonflowershow.com

Asia in Amsterdam: The Culture of Luxury in the Golden Age

February 27–June 5, 2016

Rodin: Transforming Sculpture

May 14–September 5, 2016

American Impressionist: Childe Hassam and the Isles of Shoals

July 16–November 6, 2016

The Wright Museum of World War II Wolfeboro, NH

The Wright Museum of World War II Wolfeboro, NH

Since 1994, educating visitors about the WWII-era Americans called, “the greatest generation”. See extensive 1939-45 Home Front displays; vintage tanks & weapons; period art & music and more.

Since 1994, educating visitors about the WWII-era Americans called, “the greatest generation”. See extensive 1939-45 Home Front displays; vintage tanks & weapons; period art & music and more.

Please join us for these 2016 Special Exhibits:

“The WWII Art of Private Charles J. Miller” May 1-June 10 “Norman Rockwell in the 1940s: A View of the American Homefront” June 18-August 21

Please join us for these 2016 Special Exhibits: “The WWII Art of Private Charles J. Miller” May 1-June 10 “Norman Rockwell in the 1940s: A View of the American Homefront” June 18-August 21

“Infamy: December 7, 1941” - August 29-October 24

“Infamy: December 7, 1941” - August

Open May 1

Hands-on

Shoes: Pleasure and Pain November 19, 2016–March 12, 2017

Shoes: Pleasure and Pain

November 19, 2016–March 12, 2017

AT THE PEABODY ESSEX MUSEUM

Auguste Rodin, The Thinker, large‐sized model (detail), 1903. Musée Rodin, Paris. Inv.: S.161. Photo © Musée Rodin (photo Christian Baraja).

AT THE PEABODY ESSEX MUSEUM

Auguste Rodin, The Thinker, large‐sized model (detail), 1903. Musée Rodin, Paris. Inv.: S.161. Photo © Musée Rodin (photo Christian Baraja).

MUSEUMS

Heritage Goes

MAR. 19: WATERTOWN, Revels’ Spring Sing. Grace Vision Church hosts this joyful family celebration of the vernal equinox, with plenty of singing, refreshments, and entertainment by the children who participated in the Revels’ spring workshop. 617-972-8300; revels.org

MAR. 20: BOSTON, South Boston St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Southie shows its pride with one of the largest St. Paddy’s parades in the country. Claim a spot along the four-mile route from West Broadway to Dorchester Street, and you’ll encounter bagpipers, military units, bands, clowns, and a bevy of characters to keep you—and the kids—smiling. 781-4363377; southbostonparade.org

APR. 2–3: DUXBURY, 35th Annual Antique Show. More than 50 vendors gather at the high school, offering a variety of fine vintage items. Don’t miss the bake sale and lunch café. 781910-8141; duxburyboosters.org

APR. 3: MARION, “Sousa Spectacular.” The TriCounty Symphonic Band performs a concert in the style and manner of the famous John Philip Sousa band, with trumpeter Jay Daly as the featured soloist, at Tabor Academy. tri countysymphonicband.org

APR. 4–9: BELCHERTOWN, Spring Book Sale. The Friends of Clapp Memorial Library present more than 50,000 items sorted into 26 different categories. Most books $2 or less. Bake sale and half-price sale on Saturday. friendsof clapplibrary.org

APR. 14–17: WALTHAM, Leonard Bernstein Festival of the Creative Arts. Brandeis University’s campus blooms with creativity and community, as work by national and regional artists, as well as faculty and students, is presented. 781-736-5008; brandeis.edu/arts/festival

APR. 15–17: MANSFIELD, 72nd Annual New England Folk Festival. A whole lot of music, dance (participatory and performance), and crafts, plus a variety of fine foods, kids’ activities, informational sessions, and more, at the middle school and high school. 617-2991590; neffa.org

APR. 15–24: CAMBRIDGE, 10th Annual Science Festival. This celebration of science, technology, and engineering features more than 200 events at locations across Cambridge. Take in lectures, performances, exhibits, tours, debates, and more. 617-324-4379; cambridge sciencefestival.org

APR. 16–MAY 8: PITTSFIELD, Baby Animals on the Shaker Farm. Springtime at Hancock Shaker Village means the arrival of baby lambs, piglets, kids, ducklings, and chicks. Join in on the fun by helping with farm chores, learning how to save seeds, weave baskets, make seed packets, and more. 413443-0188; hancockshakervillage.org

APR. 22–23: NORFOLK, Friends of the Norfolk Public Library Book & Bake Sale. With more than 30,000 fiction and nonfiction books all categorized and alphabetized, this sale is too big for the library—so head on over to the Norfolk DPW garage and peruse the selections (and a goodly selection of baked treats). 508-528-9690; norfolkbooksale.com

APR. 22–MAY 1: BOSTON, CAMBRIDGE, SOMERVILLE, Jazz Week. JazzBoston presents more than 200 musical events at some 80 venues. See the website for complete listings. jazzboston.org

APR. 29–MAY 1: BOSTON, CraftBoston. The Cyclorama at the Boston Center for the Arts hosts the work of 90 artisans. Spend the day

looking at and learning about contemporary crafts, meet the artists, and take home something fabulous. 617-266-1810; societyofcrafts.org

APR. 30: WALTHAM, Sheepshearing Festival at Gore Place. Tour one of the great estates of the Federal period and then settle in for a day of fun on the expansive lawn as Border collies show off their herding skills. Plus shearing and spinning demonstrations, live music, historical reenactments, an 80-booth craft fair, good food, and more. 781-894-5745; gore place.org

NEW HAMPSHIRE

MAR. 1–5: KEENE, “Light Up the Sky.” Moss Hart’s play, widely hailed as a comedy classic, comes to Redfern Arts Center, offering a backstage look at the foibles and frailties of a group of show folk as their new production opens in Boston on its way, hopefully, to Broadway. 603-358-2168; keene.edu/arts/ redfern

MAR. 3: JACKSON, Full Moon Guided Snowshoe Tour. Leaving the Jackson XC lodge at 6:00 p.m., this moonlit trek concludes with complimentary cocoa and cookies—but for the full experience, make a reservation for dinner, too. 603-383-9355; jacksonxc.org

MAR. 11–13: NORTH CONWAY, 20th Annual Hannes Schneider Meister Cup. Combining the best of skiing today with the warm nostalgia of yesterday, this competition at Cranmore Mountain Resort honors the father of modern ski instruction, with proceeds going to the New England Ski Museum. 603-356-5543; newenglandskimuseum.org

MAR. 12: PITTSBURG, Vintage Snowmobile Race. This culminating event of a four-race series will take you back to the fun of a bygone era, when snowmobile racing was inexpensive fun. Dust off and tune up your vintage machine and join the fun! thegreatnorthwoods snowmobilerace.com

MAR. 12–13: HENNIKER, 25th Annual Hawaiian Weekend. Pats Peak Ski Area invokes some tropical flavor with a weekend of live music, festive décor, loud shirts, hot tubbing, contests, and more. 603-428-3245; patspeak.com

MAR. 12, 19, 20, 26, 27; APR. 2: BETHLEHEM, Maple Experience at The Rocks. Discover the history of maple sugaring, participate in tree tapping and syrup making, enjoy horsedrawn wagon rides through the 1,400-acre Rocks property, and sample plenty of tasty treats. Reservations are recommended. 603444-6228; therocks.org

MAR. 13: NEWBURY, 10th Annual Big Dummy Air Contest at Mount Sunapee. The concept is simple: Build a dummy and then catapult it down the trail on skis or snowboard to earn prizes for best design, best crash, and biggest air. 603-763-3500; mountsunapee.com

MAR. 19: MOUNT WASHINGTON VALLEY, March Maple Madness. One ticket earns admission to each stop on this self-guided innto-inn tour. Along the way, sample delights both sweet and savory, collect recipes, and participate in a scavenger hunt. bbinnsmwv.com

MAR. 19–20: MANCHESTER, Amoskeag Quilters’ Guild Biennial Show. Several rooms at Manchester Memorial High School are given over to fabric arts at this much-anticipated event. This year’s theme is “Tomorrow’s Heirlooms: Quilts for All Time.” amoskeagqg.org

MAR. 20: MANCHESTER, St. Patrick’s Parade. Rain or shine, this salute to the Irish steps off from Elm Street at noon. Nonperishable food items will be collected during the route to support New Horizons. saintpatsnh.com

MAR. 26: BRETTON WOODS, Annual Beach Party at Bretton Woods. Celebrate spring skiing with this rocking beach-on-snow event. If skiing in your bathing suit is on your bucket list, this is the event for you! 603-278-3320; bretton woods.com

APR. 2–3: DURHAM, Seacoast Home & Garden Show. Now in its 22nd year of showcasing the latest products and services for your home and garden, this event brings an artisans’ marketplace, gardening seminars, and the TASTE: Meet the Chefs cooking series to Whittemore Arena. 866-295-6438; seacoast.newengland expos.com

APR. 6–9: MANCHESTER, MQX Quilt Festival. View the beautiful works on display at the Center of NH/Radisson Hotel exhibit hall, purchase supplies, chat with the vendors, and sign up for classes on piecing, design, art, robotic quilting, and more. mqxshow.com

APR. 14–16: KEENE, Monadnock International Film Festival. For three days, downtown Keene comes alive with feature films, documentaries (both domestic and international), and juried shorts by New Hampshire filmmakers. Plenty of parties, panels, and meetand-greet sessions to fill the time between showings. The highlight of the festival is the presentation of the Jonathan Daniels Award, given to a socially conscious filmmaker who uses his or her medium in a powerful and transformative way. 603-522-7190; moniff.org

APR. 15–MAY 7: MANCHESTER, “Singin’ in the Rain.” The Palace Theater presents a stage adaptation of the classic 1952 film satire of the Golden Age of moviemaking, in which chorus girls, elocution lessons, and lip-syncing are parodied, and the title song and other

timeless favorites are performed. 603-6685588; palacetheatre.org

APR. 16–17: LEBANON, Five Colleges Book Sale. This spring tradition (since 1962!) is held at the Lebanon High School gym, where print aficionados will find 35,000 to 40,000 titles on all topics, plus maps, prints, ephemera, DVDs, and more. 603-428-3311; five-colleges booksale.org

RHODE ISLAND

THROUGH MAR. 25: PAWTUCKET, “A Skull in Connemara.” Get ready for some blasphemous fun at the Gamm Theatre: For one week each autumn, Mick Dowd is hired to dig up bones in the local cemetery to make way for new arrivals. But when his own late wife is among those to be disinterred, rumors about his involvement in her demise resurface. 401723-4266; gammtheatre.org

MAR. 9–13: PROVIDENCE, “The Sound of Music.” Three-time Tony-winning director Jack O’Brien brings the beloved musical story of Maria and the Von Trapp family to the Providence Performing Arts Center stage. 401421-2787; ppacri.org

MAR. 10; APR. 14: NEWPORT, Gallery Night. The City by the Sea was made for walking, and on Gallery Night more than 20 venues keep their doors open late. Pick up a map and find your way to wonderful classic works, folk art, and cutting-edge contemporary pieces. Many participants offer lectures and demonstrations, as well. newportgallerynight.com

MAR. 11–APR. 3: WARREN, “Speed-the-Plow.” Bobby Gould, head of production at a major Hollywood studio, must choose between a vapid blockbuster vehicle for a hot star or a literary property being championed by the secretary he’s trying to seduce. 2nd Story Theatre presents David Mamet’s wickedly funny, razor-sharp satire of the film industry. 401247-4200; 2ndstorytheatre.com

MAR. 12: NEWPORT, St. Patrick’s Parade & Family Celebration . Enjoy the parade as it kicks off at City Hall, then stick around for some family-friendly fun with Irish step dancers, Celtic music, pirates, face painting, contests, giveaways, and more. 401-846-5081; newport irish.com

MAR. 17–19: PROVIDENCE, NCAA Basketball Tournament. The Dunkin’ Donuts Center hosts some of the best teams in NCAA Division I men’s basketball as they go headto-head in rounds one and two of this year’s March Madness tournament. 401-331-6700; dunkindonutscenter.com

tions, and some really cool kids’ activities. 401-458-6000; ribahomeshow.com

APR. 1–30, BRISTOL, Daffodil Days. An abundance of yellow blooms, an expanse of manicured gardens, and a 33-acre historic estate form the perfect backdrop to welcome the early days of spring. At Blithewold Mansion, Gardens & Arboretum, the awakening of the first blossoms of the season are celebrated with art exhibits and afternoon teas. 401-2532707; blithewold.org

APR. 8–24: PAWTUCKET, “Nunsense II: The Second Coming.” This sequel takes place six weeks after the surviving Little Sisters of Hoboken have staged their first benefit. Now the nuns are presenting a show to thank their supporters. Lots of laughs are in store at Jenks Auditorium. 401-726-6860; thecommunity players.org

APR. 19–23: PROVIDENCE/WARWICK, 8th Annual Southeast New England Film, Music & Arts Festival. With screenings at locations in both cities, a juried art show at the Warwick Museum of Art, and musical performances to boot, this festival brings people together through three artistic media. senefest.com

APR. 23–24: NORTH KINGSTOWN, Forty & Fabulous Quilt Show. The Narragansett Bay Quilters’ Association hosts its biennial show at the high school, where hundreds of member quilts will be on display. Attend classes and lectures, take a chance on raffles, meet vendors, and more. nbqa.org

APR. 28–MAY 1: PROVIDENCE, Eat Drink RI Festival. Featuring a star-studded lineup of more than 80 farmers, chefs, bartenders, and food and beverage artisans from across the state, this popular festival returns to downtown Providence for a fourth year. Tastings, demonstrations, and plenty of dining and cocktail opportunities all culminate in a Grand Brunch at the Providence Biltmore. eatdrinkri.com

VERMONT

THROUGH MAR. 12: WHITE RIVER JUNCTION, “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” Three actors play 16 characters in Northern Stage’s madcap recasting of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s great Sherlock Holmes novel, at Barrette Center for the Arts. 802-296-7000; northernstage.org

EASTER PREFERENCE

Eggs from chickens, ever loyal, Colored with no end of toil?

Never mind those eggs you boil, Feed us chocolate ones in foil! — D.A.W.

MAR. 31; APR. 1, 3: WOONSOCKET, “Fools.” Cele brate April Fools’ Day with this Neil Simon comedy at Stadium Theatre. Leon lands a teaching job in a Russian village where something is very wrong. Townspeople sweep dust back into their houses and milk cows upside down! The town is cursed with chronic stupidity, and Leon’s job is to break the curse, before he becomes stupid, too. 401-762-4545; stadiumtheatre.com

MAR. 31–APR. 3: PROVIDENCE, 66th Annual Rhode Island Home Show. The biggest home show in southern New England returns to the Rhode Island Convention Center with its signature interior-design showcase, tiny house, and walkable landscapes, as well as exhibits, educational seminars, cooking demonstra-

MAR. 4–6: BURLINGTON, 21st Mardi Gras Weekend . Magic Hat Brewery brings music and mayhem to the streets of Burlington with a unique celebration that kicks off on Friday night and culminates in a parade on Sunday, featuring dozens of floats. 802-658-2739; magichat.net

MAR. 5–6: BRATTLEBORO, The Circus Spectacular. Step right up and get your ticket for this amazing, high-flying annual gala hosted by the New England Center for Circus Arts at the historic Latchis Theatre. 802-254-9780; necenterforcircusarts.org

MAR. 5–6: BURLINGTON, 21st Annual Home Show. Vermont’s largest home show returns to the Sheraton Conference Center with more than 200 booths, representing the region’s finest builders, remodelers, and businesses offering all things home-related. 800-2376024; homeshows.com

MAR. 12: LUDLOW, Sugar Daze. When the sap starts running, Okemo Mountain Resort taps into some sweet sounds with a free concert

INDIAN HILL PRESS (“EASTER PREFERENCE”)

series, highlighted by this outdoor music extravaganza in the Jackson Gore courtyard. 800-786-5366; okemo.com

MAR. 12: MIDDLEBURY, Vermont Chili Festival There are activities for all ages, but chili is the star, as dozens of restaurants and caterers gather in the historic downtown to compete for top honors. Vote for your favorite while partaking of live music, street performances, face painting, and a beverage tent offering local ciders and beer. 802-388-4126; vtchili fest.com

MAR. 18–27: MONTPELIER, Green Mountain Film Festival. Whether you’re a full-fledged film buff or simply an occasional moviegoer, you’re sure to find something appealing at this year’s festival, offering feature films, documentaries, shorts, and award-winning animation from all over the world, showing at multiple venues. gmffestival.org

MAR. 26: WOODSTOCK, Baby Animal Day at Billings Farm . Meet the newest additions at this working dairy farm. While you’re there, you may want to go on a wagon ride, learn about heirloom seeds, or tour the historic 1890 farmhouse, too. But save plenty of time for the lambs, chicks, and calves who are the real stars of this show. 802-457-2535; billings farm.org

APR. 2–3: STATEWIDE, Maple Open House Weekend. Celebrate the season! Visit participating sugarhouses to learn about Vermont’s first agricultural crop of the year. Check the website for an open house near you. 802763-7435; vermontmaple.org

APR. 9–10: RUTLAND, Festival of Quilts. Maple Leaf Quilters brings its biennial show to the Holiday Inn, with antique quilts, recent creations, demonstrations, vendors, a raffle, and more. mapleleafquilters.org

APR. 22–24: ST. ALBANS, Vermont Maple Festival. For the 50th year, this maple celebration returns to downtown St. Albans, with a pancake breakfast, road race, carnival, variety shows, and parade, and of course, plenty of tasty maple treats. 802-524-5800; vtmaple festival.org

APR. 30: ST. JOHNSBURY, World Maple Festival . Celebrate the history and heritage of the maple industry with events throughout downtown. With a pancake breakfast, road race, street-festival live entertainment, and the crowning of the world maple champion, plus fine craft items and tasty treats for sale from more than 100 vendors. worldmaple festival.org

Call

ahead

Correction

MEDIA PARTNER:

Photos: David Murray/Clear Eye Photo

Hidden New England

WHEN YOU GO … Greensboro, VERMONT

WHERE: About 65 miles east of Burlington; 17 miles from I-91. travelthekingdom.com

STAY: Highland Lodge is a short distance to the lake and downtown: highlandlodge.com

Check vacation rental sites such as homeaway.com and airbnb.com for house rentals.

EAT: The town of Hardwick , one of Vermont’s best towns for food lovers, is less than 8 miles south.

DO: Take a tour of Jasper Hill Farm and taste sample artisanal cheeses: jasperhillfarm.com

EXPLORE: Take in the Sunday classical concert series throughout the summer at Landon Lake House , located on the southern tip of Caspian Lake (you can paddle or drive to the venue): greensboro association.org

Westport, MASSACHUSETTS

WHERE: About 75 minutes from Boston, south of New Bedford, along the Rhode Island border; Route 88 runs right through the center of town.

STAY: The Paquachuck , at Westport Point, with abundant water views and lovely coastal décor (but shared bathrooms): paquachuck.com

EAT: The Back Eddy (upscale seafood and raw bar): thebackeddy.com

The Bayside (casual and creative seafood): thebaysiderestaurant.com

Gray’s Daily Grind (coffee, pastry, and smoothies at the site of New England’s oldest gristmill): graysdailygrind.com

DO: Explore the countryside at Westport Town Farm : thetrustees .org/places-to-visit/southeast-ma/ westport-town-farm.html. Or Allens Pond Wildlife Sanctuary : massaudubon.org/ get-outdoors/wildlife-sanctuaries/ allens-pond

Vinalhaven, MAINE

WHERE: 15 miles off Rockland, Vinalhaven is the size of Manhattan but home to fewer than 1,200 residents plus an equal number of widely scattered summer people. Find rental and commercial lodging information at: vinalhaven.org

The town office can also answer most questions: 207-863-4471

GETTING THERE: The Maine State Ferry Service in Rockland offers frequent car-ferry service: maine .gov/mdot/ferry/vinalhaven

STAY: Tidewater Motel & Gathering Place offers 19 waterside units; also rents bikes (free to guests), cars, and kayaks, plus shuttle service: tidewatermotel.com Or try Libby House Inn : libbyhouse1869.com

EAT: The Harbor Gawker : Open mid-April to mid-November. Lobster rolls, crabmeat rolls, and baskets of just about anything. Surfside; opens at 4:00 a.m. for the lobstermen and is open for lunch and dinner (call to check the schedule): 207-863-9365

DO: Vinalhaven Historical Society Museum : Open daily mid-June to mid-September. An outstanding community museum highlighting the island’s late-19th-century boom years as a major world source of granite: vinalhavenhistorical society.org

Vinalhaven Land Trust maintains 17 preserves mapped on its website and in handouts available at 12 Skoog Park Road near the ferry dock: vinalhavenlandtrust.org

SHOPPING: The Paper Store is the nerve center of the island, the place to check for current happenings and to get a chart of the island: thepaperstore.com

New Era Gallery : Open Memorial Day to December. Painter and printmaker Elaine Crossman’s gallery shows work by some of Maine’s most prominent painters, sculptors, photographers, and fiber artists: neweragallery.com

Go Fish : Open seasonally; a great kids-geared shop featuring healthy toys, penny candy, and original island T-shirts: 207-863-4193

Eaton Center, NEW HAMPSHIRE

WHERE: South of North Conway on Route 153, just minutes from the Maine border.

STAY: Two notable centuryplus-old country inns share the Eaton Center landscape. The Snow village Inn boasts a mesmerizing mountain view: snowvillageinn.com

The Inn at Crystal Lake is noted for its special opera-themed nights: innatcrystallake.com

EAT: Both local inns draw raves from press and guests for their breakfasts, as well as dinners served to the public. The Eaton Village Store is where you come for local flavor and filling lunches: 603-447-2403

DO: Explore the countryside: Hiking the Presidential Range is minutes away, while hiking and blueberry picking on Foss Mountain is almost out your door. The attractions and shopping of North Conway are 11 miles north. Stone Mountain Arts Center, just over the Maine border in Brownfield, is one of the most innovative and memorable venues offering live music in the region: stonemountainartscenter.com

Woodbury, CONNECTICUT

WHERE: Midway between Boston and New York City; 4 miles from Interstate 84; Main Street doubles as Route 6.

STAY: Curtis House Inn , on Main Street and an easy walk to everything: curtishouseinn.com

EAT: Carole Peck’s Good News Café : good-news-cafe.com

Woodbury Deli & Catering (gourmet soup/sandwich): woodburydeliandcatering.com

Market Place Kitchen & Bar (American farm-to-table): marketplacewoodbury.com

DO: Go antiquing to your heart’s content. Then explore the countryside: Flanders Nature Center & Land Trust : flandersnaturecenter.org

Galilee, RHODE ISLAND

WHERE: A village of Narragansett, on Point Judith Neck.

STAY: The Break , a new coastalchic boutique hotel, less than 2 miles from Galilee on Ocean Road: thebreakhotel.com

Durkin Cottages , a diverse inventory of weekly summer rentals: durkincottages.com

Fishermen’s Memorial State Park Campground , a popular venue, with 182 RV and tent sites, hosting a farmers’ market on Sundays: riparks.com/Locations/Location Fishermens.html

EAT: George’s of Galilee : The granddaddy of Rhody clam shacks, updated for today’s sustainability concerns. georgesofgalilee.com

Champlin’s , generous fresh lobster-salad rolls with homemade potato chips and the best waterfront views: champlins.com

Jimmy’s PortSide , Galilee’s place to sample Rhode Island–style calamari with banana peppers and marinara: jimmysportside.com

Gabe the Fish Babe : Keep an eye out for her van while you’re here; then, when you’re home and missing the taste of fresh, sustainable fish, join Gabe’s Fish Club to have the catch of the day overnighted to you: gabethefishbabe.com

DO: Benny’s Store : Located just over 4 miles away in Wakefield, Benny’s is your place to purchase a shellfishing license and clamming supplies: hellobennys.com

Frances Fleet : Experienced captains and crew will take you fluke, cod, or tautog fishing by day; squid or bass and blues fishing late at night; or even on overnight tuna trips. Whale-watch excursions are available, too: francesfleet.com

Salty Brine State Beach : Small but in the heart of Galilee, within walking distance of delicious seafood: riparks.com/Locations/ LocationSaltyBrine.html

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‘MORE THAN JUST A TREE’

(continued from pp. 108–109)

The moist, rough ash at this stage emits a distinctive smell: Some compare it to watermelon, others to manure. With a knife, they bisect the end of the splint and, gripping each side, pull the growth ring into two pliable strips. The strips can then be split again and again, down to splints as narrow as floss, as smooth as satin, and as strong as wire.

Broad-shouldered Gabriel weaves sturdy pack baskets with wide splints the way his grandfather did—muscle baskets made by a muscle man. Jeremy, slight and bespectacled, makes obsessively precise, fancy baskets. The brothers guess that they’re around the seventh generation of basketmakers in their family—it’s hard to say for sure. Not only do they preserve the harvesting and the weaving they were taught, but in the purist’s version of the tradition, they also make all of their basket molds and many of their tools.

One afternoon a few days after a harvest, Jeremy sat at his living-room table weaving a threadlike splint into a small black-and-white barrel-shaped basket while his Chihuahua watched from her tiny bed in the corner.

“There are so many parts to making a basket that it can overwhelm you,” he says as his fingers plait the splint. “But for me, it’s just that I don’t get to that point until I’m there. So if I’m pounding ash, I’m not even concerned about a basket. If I’m splitting it, that’s what I’m doing. I’m just enjoying that little piece of the basket at the time.”

What Jeremy calls “the healing qualities” of basketry, Gabriel compares to collective memory. “When I actually sat down with my grandfather and made my first basket,” he says, “it wasn’t like I

was learning something. It was like I was remembering something. All of the process, through making it and harvesting it, is something that is deeply connected to my ancestors. Even the smell when you walk into a basketmaker’s house. It’s difficult to explain. It’s like when you hear a song that you haven’t heard in a very long time, and it brings you back to that very first moment. That’s the connection.”

The ash borer threat has Jeremy experimenting with pliable metals, maybe even silver and gold, and Gabriel

Native basketmakers to change materials since the borer first showed up.

“I think the most important skill is the ability to adapt and accept change,” says Dow, an Abenaki from Essex, Vermont, who makes baskets from things like yogurt containers, pantyhose, flannel shirts, and electrical wire. Dow worries that basketmakers who cling to ash are ignoring the Native American history of adapting. Fancy baskets themselves were an adaptation in form in the 19th century, she points out. To cater to tourists, tribal weavers shrank basket sizes to fit into the luggage of a visiting buyer.

“For me it’s traditional to adapt to social, political, environmental, and economic changes,” she says. “So changing the material is just another form of adapting. If you don’t adapt, if you don’t accept change, it’ll pass you by.”

looking at plaiting with copper. They don’t like the idea of abandoning the ash, but they do want to keep producing. “It’s hard to predict what you’re going to do,” Jeremy says, “but certainly this issue is going to dictate a large part of my future.”

The Freys are open to experimenting, but plenty of basketmakers bristle at the idea of using another material.

Vermont basketmaker Judy Dow thinks that’s a mistake; she’s been encouraging

Back in the ash stand, Eldon Hanning weaves around dozens of the decaying, moss-covered stumps of old harvested trees to get closer to the thriving trees he’s after. He stands at the base of one mature ash and squints, his gaze moving up along its narrow trunk to the tuft of lively green leaves high overhead. Hanning lets the young ones grow so that his grandchildren will, hopefully, have something to harvest. He presses a mud-stained hand against the tree’s trunk and caresses its smooth skin.

“See the bark, okay?” he says. “That’s a straight stick.” Hanning’s harvesting operation is so fast and productive that it’s been compared to a factory, even though all of the work is done by only three men out of a shed so filled with old splints that you have to wade through them to get from one end to the other.

From his mother, a sixth-generation harvester and basketmaker, he learned

Atop one of Eldon Hanning’s potato baskets rests a portrait of his mother, a traditional Micmac basketmaker, who taught him both harvesting and weaving techniques.

how to find an ash tree by sight, sound, and smell; he found one of his favorite stands, he says, by hearing it from his truck as he was tooling down a nearby road. From his mother, he learned how to drop a tree and pound off its growth rings, work traditionally reserved for men. His mother also taught him what long has been women’s work: the weaving and the selling. In his mother’s case, that meant weaving potato baskets late into the night for farmers in Houlton. She sold her baskets for 50 cents apiece.

It’s hard work, harvesting and weaving, and Hanning wasn’t much interested in it until a basket gig fell into his lap about 30 years ago. Back then, he was a young man trying to get his footing after moving back home to Houlton.

His tribe, the Micmac, hired him to make 100 potato baskets, which they planned to resell to a seed company in central Maine. They paid him $1,800 for the work—almost 10 times what he made in a week as a farmhand. Hanning and his mother wove day and night to finish the order. After it was all done, Hanning went to the farm to tell his supervisor that he was quitting.

“I pulled out my wallet and pulled out my check, and I said, ‘This is what I made in a week of making baskets,’” Hanning says. “And my supervisor looked at me, and he looked at the check, and he looked at me. And he says, ‘You made that in a week?’ I says, ‘Yup.’ And he says, ‘Well, if I was you I’d quit, too.’”

Since then, ash has been his life.

The day of the June harvest, Eldon Hanning’s house was filled with halffinished potato baskets headed for an upcoming tribal-arts show, and boxes and boxes of bread baskets commissioned by Jordan’s Restaurant in Bar Harbor to hold its famous popovers. There were so many baskets in the house that his wife, Judy, had to roll a few down the couch just to sit. In his spare time, Hanning weaves his mother’s

style of utility basket, brings them down to a craft fair on Mount Desert Island, tags them for 40 bucks or so, and challenges passersby to sit on them to test the strength of the wood.

That day, as he smoked his Pyramid 100s at his kitchen table under a faded

cedar. He plans to teach his son to work with cedar instead of ash in case the tree disappears. You can’t split it like ash, and he’s not sure whether grown men will be able to sit on the baskets it makes, but still, it’s pretty good. And if Hanning can teach his son to make baskets with cedar, he’ll pass along what he considers to be the main thing to hold onto here: selfsufficiency.

photograph of his mother, Hanning seemed calm when it came to the borer threat. “You got to be adaptable,” he said. “That’s the only thing you can do. Try to find the ash.”

But months later, with the borer now attacking New Hampshire, Hanning has revised his definition of adaptation: He’s started harvesting and weaving

“He’ll never be broke as long as he knows how to make baskets,” Hanning says. “That’s the reason why my mother taught me how to make baskets. She told me that as long as you can make a basket, you’ll never be broke. You can take an axe, go out, cut the tree down, pound it, make a basket in the woods, take it down, sell it, make money.”

Simple?

“Yup,” he says. “Simple as that.”

Can the Ash Tree Survive?

At Ohio State University in Columbus, plant pathologist Enrico Bonello heads up the only group in the world researching ash resistance to the borer. He’s trying to understand the way ash is immune to EAB in Asia, where years of parallel evolution alongside the beetle have created what Bonello calls an “arms race” in which the tree mutates to resist the beetle, the beetle mutates to attack the ash mutation, and this back-and-forth maintains a stalemate. The thinking is that these hardier trees can be crossbred with vulnerable trees to improve the Western ash’s resistance to the bug.

“What we need most is funding in support of research,” Bonello writes in an email. “The only sources of funding for this work are federal agencies, but even those ebb and flow over time. Usually, after the initial euphoria out of panic, funding precipitates rather abruptly in the case of invasives. Some fatigue sets in, as it’s difficult for people to understand why we don’t have a solution after 10 years. But in many ways, this is harder to achieve than curing human cancer, because in the ecological context of forests, there are a large number of variables, outside of basic genetic resistance of the host, that affect that resistance, and we don’t yet understand all of them.”

In the summer of 2003, shortly after the borer was discovered in lower Michigan, a team of entomologists tempted the bug with three kinds of ash—green, white, and black—and five other varieties of trees, including black walnut, privet, and American elm. They wanted to see whether EAB was attracted to something other than ash. The bug laid twice as many eggs on all of the ash as it did on the alternatives, except for privet, although even privet didn’t rival the ash. Moreover, any baby bugs that were laid on non-ash were doomed. “Galleries on the alternative species appeared to be small and malformed,” the scientists wrote, “suggesting larvae would be unlikely to complete development.”

For the borer, it appears to be ash or extinction. —S.D.

TO HIS SON, ELDON HANNING WILL PASS ALONG THE MAIN THING TO HOLD ONTO: SELF-SUFFICIENCY.

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So Wesleyan’s system isn’t “the answer”—no one thing is the answer. But it provides an important clue: spurred on by the recent powerful storms, everyone is working on clean energy now. “There’s nothing new in this at all, nothing that’s unique to this, no special technology. It is as simple as simple gets,” Rubacha says of the university’s microgrid. “It’s not a panacea, it’s not perfect, but it’s a step in the right direction for now.”

He asks me about what I’ve seen so far on my yimby tour. “I’m interested to

see what it’ll look like in 20 years,” he says. Energy “is going to be way more distributed. I think there’s going to be a power something on every corner, whether it’s PV [solar panels], or a little engine, or a little storage container, who knows what. It’s going to be great.”

Each time I visit Montpelier I’m struck by how diminutive Vermont’s state capital is, as if I were in an HOscale train layout, but one with locavore dining, organic cafés, brewpubs, and white-collar state and insurance workers in blue jeans and L.L. Bean checked shirts. Montpelier has a soothing rationality. This tiny state capital

makes it seem as though no problem is too big.

With that attitude, Montpelier has taken on a gargantuan task: to be a “net zero” city by 2030. This, says Vermont’s Energy Action Network, is “a bold, audacious, collaborative effort to have Montpelier lead the way as the nation’s first state capital where all of our energy needs—electric, thermal, and transportation—are produced or offset by renewable energy sources.” But this isn’t a moon-shot crash program; it’s Montpelier-size. The net-zero campaign is run by a committee of volunteers. We do everything with volunteers in New England’s small towns and cities, from putting out fires to feeding the hungry, but getting an entire city to cover all of its energy demands seems impossible.

Tim Shea is chair of the 16-member energy advisory committee. In his day job he oversees facilities at National Life Group, which occupies the largest office building in Vermont (550,000 square feet). The company has converted to a biomass heat plant, saving $400,000 in fuel costs just in the first winter, and added four acres of solar panels to its existing array to provide 15 percent of its electricity. I talk to Shea and assistant city manager Jessie Baker in National Life’s cafeteria, which is far better than it sounds: a pleasant room with high ceilings and sweeping mountain views.

How will Montpelier get to net zero in just 14 years? By taking a thousand, thousand small steps. Each improvement is incremental, and each incremental step is made up of hundreds of smaller steps: meetings, studies, grants, private and public partnerships. You need “day-one savings” to woo the public, Shea says. “It’s hard to dismiss day-one savings.”

As the first steps, Montpelier has installed solar panels to provide 70 percent of municipal electricity at a 15 percent savings over the old utility rates; installed LED streetlights; “weatherized” 500 houses; and replaced a brace of aged oil burners with a centralized biomass boiler system for 21 government and private buildings, eliminating 137,000 gallons of oil annually, Baker notes. These efforts have won the city some national recognition. Montpelier

Tim Shea, chair of the energy advisory committee in Montpelier, Vermont, and assistant city manager Jessie Baker at the Vermont District Heat plant.

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Full

is in the running with 49 other communities for the Georgetown University Energy Prize of $5 million to be awarded next year, and the U.S. Department of Energy has named the city a Climate Action Champion, giving it an edge for certain federal programs.

All of which is encouraging, but Montpelier is just at the starting line. Shea says that the city aims to be halfway to net zero by 2023. Transportation is the high hurdle; it’s nearly 50 percent of energy use. Shea and Baker talk up rezoning to lessen reliance on downtown parking, adding bike lanes, and encouraging car sharing and public transportation. “You can eliminate parking if more people are biking and walking,” Shea explains.

“Have you said that in a public meeting: eliminate parking?” I ask. Having served on a planning committee, I know that parking spots can be revered as holy land.

Shea, who drives an electric car, doesn’t hesitate. Look at the city map, he says: “It’s amazing how much real estate” is devoured by parking. That’s land that could be used for taxable development and for housing.

As we were sitting there, gas was at $2.35 a gallon in the city, bringing on a winner’s smugness as people filled up. You have to approach some collapseof-civilization scenario before you can imagine prying Americans out of their cars—and Vermonters drive more miles each year than most other Americans. (They rank sixth on the mileage list.) Shea concedes that the low price “makes the paybacks harder,” but he’s steadfast, talking about finding the right mix of “carrot-and-stick” programs to move the stubborn-mule public.

Montpelier was able to add its solar panels and biomass boiler without expending any of the city’s tax dollars. But to achieve the committee members’ goal, won’t they eventually have to spend the city’s money? They firmly say no. Montpelier has a high tax rate, Baker explains, with a population of about 7,800 having to provide services for up to 20,000 each day. She hears from residents who are concerned about “how to balance this audacious goal against the financial realities of our

FROM TOP : Rooftop solar panels at the National Life Group office building in Montpelier, Vermont; biomass fuel (wood chips) at the Vermont District Heat plant; the plant’s wood-chip-fired boilers generate steam, heating a number of downtown Montpelier buildings.

municipal budget,” she says. A good case can be made for the long-term benefits, but she knows that “there’s some fear in the short term” about taxes.

To get to net zero, Shea says, “a lot of this basically comes down to behavioral marketing.” There’s strong support from Mayor John Hollar and a core of committed citizens. “We just need to keep pushing that 80 percent in the middle to help us get there.” Montpelier could be a demonstration project for Los Angeles or Seattle or Chicago, he adds: “Now, they’ve got their own things going, but with a lot of what we’re doing for a northern climate, we can really become the pilot poster child for—this might be a little grandiose—a national movement.” Other places large and small can learn from what people are doing in Mont pelier, he says.

Striving to be a net-zero city appeals to old New England virtues: It’s pragmatic, it’s thrifty, it’s the right thing to do, and it plays to the region’s pride in independent thinking. “Resiliency” is the buzzword of this new energy movement, and in that word is an echo of another old New England virtue: selfreliance. “Our residents have this culture of being innovative, being progressive, being willing to try things,” Baker says. “The size of our community lets us perhaps do some ambitious things a little more easily. We know each other. We go to church together. We go to soccer practice together. And it kind

of contributes to that Vermont way of doing things.”

Will this work? Can we patch together enough solar panels, efficient lighting, and generators to tame our energy hunger? Can we do enough quickly enough to slow the planet’s warming? That’s what this is really about. We’re on a roller-coaster ride of ever-wilder storms and hotter summers. My short yimby tour is encouraging, showing how we can swiftly change things, but I may be cheering a short parade.

When you see these new ways of doing things, it’s freeing. It’s as if you were hearing long-stuck machinery moving. But then you leave these new projects and head into the gas-and-go haste of how we’ve done things forever, and the fossil-fuel present seems ironbound and eternal, “ a fate … that never turns aside,” as Thoreau said of the technology of his day.

What’s holding us back isn’t technology, and not even the old regulations, though those have to change. What’s holding us back is that we don’t believe we can change things. In a region once renowned for its mechanical literacy— for backyard tinkerers filing a flood of patents for improved water turbines, steam engines, early automobiles and airplanes—somehow we’ve lost our belief in Yankee ingenuity. Of course there still are many can-do inventors, designers, and builders among us, but, lacking mil-

lions of dollars for advertising and lobbying, they can be lost in the noise.

I have one more stop to make before I leave Vermont. I drive a half-hour south of the capital to visit someone who has been at this solar thing since he was an architecture student in 1970. I go see architect William Maclay at his Waitsfield office. Recently he wrote the definitive book, The New Net Zero, a hefty 552pager giving many successful examples and extensive construction details for houses and large commercial buildings.

“We’re not in the world we were in 10 years ago,” Maclay tells me. “For me, an advocate for doing solar for 40-someodd years, to say that I can live on less money with solar than I can with fossil fuels is just a radical change. And it’s a radical change that 2 percent of the population realizes.” People don’t know that they can afford solar, that they can afford net zero, he explains.

He sets out the numbers: For solar panels there’s a 30 percent rebate off the top from federal tax credits; historically low loan rates; and plummeting solarpanel prices, which are 75 percent lower than they were a decade ago. It’s cheaper to install solar than to keep paying for oil, Maclay says: “Renewably powering your electric bill is cost-effective today. That’s just huge. It’s never been that way before. You can hop onboard and save money and do the right thing at the same time. Climate’s an issue; there’s no excuse not to be addressing that. [This] isn’t some weird technology we have to wait for. It’s here today.” This isn’t your hippie uncle’s solar energy.

“Will Montpelier succeed?” I ask.

“I think they’re going to get there, and everybody’s going to get there, or we’re not going to be around,” Maclay replies. And with that we adjourn to look at the small tan boxes outside his office and an adjoining house (heat pumps) and the gray boxes in the basement (a solar-power inverter). They’re not much to look at, either, but they may mean the world.

We want to hear your views on New England’s energy needs—both the challenges and the potential solutions. Write us at: editors@yankeepub.com

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42ND ANNUAL MASSACHUSETTS

SHEEP & WOOLCRAFT FAIR

May28/29 at Cummington Fairgrounds in the Berkshires. Yarn, wool, Border Collie trials, sheep, workshops, children’s events, food trucks. Information and directions www.masheepwool.org

YANKEE classifieds

To advertise, please call Bernie Gallagher at 203-263-7171

REAL ESTATE

SEBASTIAN, FLORIDA

Beautiful 55+ community. Voted 2012

“Best of Sebastian” Manufactured Home Community. New homes starting at $84,900. 4 mi to the ocean.

772-581-0080 • www.beach-cove.com

TOPSHAM, MAINE

Wonderful 55+ Community. 2 Bedrooms, 2 Baths with Fireplace & Sun Room. Like New Condition. Close to Ocean, Shopping & Bowdoin College. Details: 207-336-0013 clubfred12@hotmail.com

LIVE YOUR OWN DREAM in PALOMBARA SABINA, ITALY. Visit our website www.sabinavilla.com

RECORD COLLECTORS

TRANSFER TO CD YOUR COLLECTION OF 45s/33s/78s, cassettes and reel to reel tapes Call Alex at 603-905-9123 for pricing www.theotherguyrec.com

SHUTTERS

COLONIAL SHUTTERS, interior and exterior, raised-panel and louvered. Custom storm/screen doors. Free brochure. Colonial Shutterworks, Mattapoisett, Massachusetts. 888-295-0732; www.colonialshutterworks.com

SLIPCOVERS

CUSTOM AND READY SLIPCOVERS

For furniture, daybeds, chairs, futons, ottomans, fabrics, cushions, pet covers. All shapes. Made in USA! 888-405-4758 • www.slipcovershop.com

TRAVEL & RESORTS

KIAWAH ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA. Select 1- to 10-bedroom accommodations. Pam Harrington Exclusives. Call toll free 800-845-6966 for a complimentary brochure; www.kiawahexclusives.com

VACATION RENTALS

SQUAM LAKE, NH

5th-generation family “Camp” on the Lake! With dock & raft. Sleeps 16. Many extras included. For details contact Susan at: 860-567-4894 alvordsquamnh@optonline.net

PLEASE NOTE CHATHAM, CAPE COD

9-Bedroom Estate. Sleeps 18. Ocean Views. Great for Weddings, Friends & Family Reunions. Booking Now! Available year-round. Call John: 617-799-5818

e-mail: john@oldeforgerealty.com

YEAR-ROUND N.H.

LAKE HOUSE SLEEPS 8-11 Sunrises, Sunsets & Sandy Beach, close to Portsmouth, Ogunquit & North Conway. Call Chris: 860-690-8869 or email: chrisbrose@comcast.net

Spring Slalom

Harold Orne captured the thrill and the drama of skiing New Hampshire’s awesome Tuckerman Ravine.

n April 4, 1937, some 2,800 hardy spectators and a small number of ski adventurers, many of them members of the Dartmouth Outing Club, trekked the roughly 2.5 miles from Pinkham Notch, New Hampshire, to the base of the immense glacial bowl known as Tuckerman Ravine, seeming to fill the southeastern shoulder of 6,288-foot Mount Washington. Among the spectators was Harold Orne, a Massachusetts photographer who was making a bit of a name for himself in the nascent New England ski scene by lugging his Graflex Speed Graphic camera to mountains large and small, capturing the people who followed the snow years before ski lifts and ski resorts added comfort to the adventure.

On this day, ski history was being made, and Orne was there. A ski race named in honor of Franklin Edson, who had died a year earlier in a downhill race in Massachusetts, would for the first time feature carefully placed poles at strategic points to force skiers to control their speed: It was the first giant slalom race in America. “Tucks” had already been the scene of a daredevil race named “The Inferno,” and its steep, imposing walls tested even the most skilled skiers of the time. Today, on sun-splashed days from early April into June, hundreds of skiers and spectators still trek to Tucks, where 50 feet or more of snow greets them—challenging intrepid souls to climb as high as they dare, to find their line down, while everyone’s eyes look upward. —Mel Allen

Franklin Edson Memorial Race, 1937

The Pelatiah Leete House is one of the earliest surviving dwellings built in Guilford, CT in the early 18th century, by Pelatiah Leete, the grandson of Guilford founder, and Connecticut governor, William Leete. It is one of only a handful of properties in Guilford that is included on the National Register of Historic Places. In 1781, during the American Revolution, the Battle of Leetes Island was fought across the road from the house and its surviving 1705 barn, and Simeon Leete, who lived in the house at that time with his wife and three small children, was mortally wounded near the conclusion of the battle. He was brought back to the house, where he died, at age 28, the following day. His gravestone is around the corner from the house, on land owned by the Leete family since 1661, and an annual celebration of his life is held every June on the Sunday nearest June 19, the anniversary of his death date. The Sixth Connecticut Regiment of the Continental Line performs musket drills and live firing at the event, which draws numerous neighbors and townspeople.

AUTHENTIC COLOURS crafted by masters of 18th and 19th Century color fidelity - fifth generation paintmakers. The Old Village paint craftsmen create the authentic colors that simply cannot be matched by a mass production process or by guessing and mixing. Old Village Paints are of superb quality, using natural earth pigments from around the world, as well as the heartland of America.

P.O. Box 130

• Perkiomenville PA 18074

Email: info@old-village.com

Tel: 215-256-0077 • Fax: 215-256-0022

Toll Free: 800-498-7687 | www.old-village.com