The following selections are from the archives of Stratton Magazine. If you already know the issue and year, you may order back issues of Stratton Magazine.
Browse the entire archive or specify the season, year and section to browse a specific edition.
One weekend back in the early part of summer, I needed some things for
the garden. There were gaps in a couple of perennial beds and, while I
had a few tomato plants and they were doing all right, none of them
were especially distinguished, if you know what I mean. Then, the basil » read more
When I left home for a hike up Stratton Mountain it was still dark with dense, heavy fog. But by the time I got halfway up the mountain, the sun had risen and most of the fog had burned off, leaving only a sliver of a silver trail over Routes Thirty and Eleven.
The path I was walking on was an unusual mosaic of intensely colored frosted leaves created by nature with perfect composition.
The only thing I had do to was POINT AND SHOOT.
By Hubert Schriebl
» read more
BuckoLast summer I was in Alaska sitting on a river with an old guide. At least he seemed old. He was 65 and he'd been guiding in Alaska for years. I realized soon enough he was only a few years older than me, but his remarkably simple wisdom and experience made my admittedly full life pale a bit.
My wife and I started out in Vermont as renters but we wanted to buy. So a couple of months after we got here, a neighbor who was in the real estate business kindly took us around to look at a few places he thought might work. The floors in the first house we visited were built from boards that were 36 inches wide, at least, and beautifully worn. The ceilings were low and the rooms were small. There was an overall feeling about the place that touched something in me and I wanted to own it even though I was pretty sure we couldn't afford it. » read more
Everyone has had the experience: the day is going along just fine until someone calls and says, "Where are you?" Turns out you have missed an appointment that was scheduled for ?Wednesday and that you faithfully wrote down in your book or entered in your Palm.
So you say, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I thought it was Thursday."
Being emotionally stuck in the wrong day is one thing. But how about finding yourself stuck in the wrong month? Or season? Or even the wrong year? It happens to me all the time and I don't think I'm crazy. Not yet, anyway.
So let me explain.
We started thinking about this issue of Stratton Magazine a little over a year ago. It is the way we do business. We began sending material to the printer weeks ago which means that we began receiving and editing manuscripts, creating layouts, and selecting photographs about three months ago. So, in an editorial sense, we were living in the fall, even though it was actually early summer and late spring.
It is a little disconcerting to be thinking about Vermont's spectacular fall foliage when you are looking out your window at trees that are not yet full green and a garden that is just beginning to take hold.
This is what is known in the trade as "lead-time," and it causes a certain mental dissonance. You find yourself trying hard to come up with ideas for skiing-related articles when, outside, it is eighty degrees and people are playing golf. » read more
Arthur JonesThe Southern Vermont Arts Center celebrates local Dorset Artist Arthur Jones
One signature Arthur Jones painting (among a dozen genres) is a Vermont landscape-classic barn buildings set in spacious fields, backed by soft-outline mountains and a cloud-strewn sky. Rendered in uncounted variations of structures' shape and color, of seasons, weather, and day's light, these works are perennially popular and represent a store of artistic output that stretches over more than a half-century in the life of this Dorset artist and native. » read more
Paul Fersen & PickettWhen the winds of autumn bring the first hint ofwinter, there is a need for a man to call his dog and step into the field.
There is a myth out there that the loss of a great hunting dog is psychologically as devasting to a man as the loss of a spouse. Unquestionably this originated in a posturing haze of scotch and testosterone around a campfire somewhere, but it speaks volumes about the relationship of a hunter and his dog. As to what it means about the institution of marriage is better left to others. » read more
The fisher has short legs and very snouty head that is full of sharp teeth. It is an excellent climber, exceedingly nimble and quick, and loves nothing better than a nice, tasty porcupine for dinner.
The neighborhood might have been under siege. That, at least, was the way some of the occupants felt. Something was out there, killing pets that had been with some of the families for more than ten years. People had looked, sometimes for days, for cats that had gone outside and not returned the way they always had before. In their distress, the owners of the missing cats eventually had to face the fact that something had killed their pets as well as the possibility that, whatever it was, it was still out there and might kill again, if they brought another housecat into the family and then let it outside, especially at night. » read more
Paul DuttonAround 9 a.m. on an early November morning, a crew of workers is busy assembling holiday wreaths at Dutton's Farm Stand in Newfane. Business has been busy over the weekend, and it's time to replenish the supply. The crew has already been working for some time, pinning, twisting and weaving a large pile of balsam branches into hoops, which in turn are stacked on a truck to be sent out to the other stores. It's chilly, and everyone is dressed in layers of work wear, including hats and gloves. The sky is winter grey with no sign of sun in sight, and although the foliage still clings to the trees, there is a telltale essence of snow in the air. » read more
