From time to time, a friend of the magazine will ask me, "Where do you get your story ideas?"
"I don't know," I'll usually say. "I just look around."
Not much of an answer, I suppose. But it is true.
Consider this: The other day, my daughter called and asked if I'd like to come out to her house in West Pawlet. She'd fix some lunch and I'd get to spend some time with my granddaughter who was six months old. No chance I'd turn down that invitation.
So I drove in to the grocery store to pick up some things to help out with the lunch. This included one of the wonderful artisan Vermont cheeses. We've done stories on the local cheese makers here at Stratton
Magazine and I probably got the idea in the grocery store or the local farmers' markets. You hear about how people get their best ideas in the shower. For me, it's often while I'm buying food.
On my way out of Manchester, I drove past that big meadow where Donny Dorr has put together what has to be one of the world's most ... ah, unique exhibits of classic American tractors. Along with some other things, to include a large model rocket. Like most people around here, I've always wondered about the story behind this display. In my case, I could do something about it. So I asked writer Sue Washburn to talk to Donny and ask him, "What's up with that?"
You can find the answer in the magazine you hold in your hands.
A little further on, I stopped at William's Department Store in Dorset, which is one of the most eccentric and useful shopping establishments I have ever patronized. Everything from horse feed to laundry soap with some inventory items dating back to the store's founding in 1840. Stratton Magazine has, of course, published a story about Williams in an earlier issue. How could we resist?
I was stopping to pick up some bread (no horse feed today). Williams carries fresh bread from Rupert Rising. The bread is really special and the location of the bakery-Rupert, how did you guess-is so surprising that we simply had to do that story in the magazine. You'll find Ellen Ogden's report on page 30.
When I had my loaf of fresh sourdough, I proceeded north on Route 30 and drove over the little bridge that crosses the Mettowee River where there is an historical marker for the Harmon Mint. (We've already done the mint story, of course.)
The little sparkling river always turns my mind to trout fishing, especially the kind we do on tiny streams for lovely native brook trout. This is angling at its purest and it seemed to me that it was worth a story by one of our most popular and durable writers. So you can read Paul Fersen's celebration of fishing for brook trout on page 36.
I drove on up the Mettowee valley and thought, as I always do, that this has to be one of the most beautiful spots on earth. It isn't just the topography-which is pretty spectacular-but also the wonderful old rambling farmhouses and barns that give this place its beguiling character. When you take it all in, you find yourself appreciating the valley the same way you would a masterpiece by one of the world's great painters.
So, why not look at the Mettowee valley through the eyes of an art critic and scholar? Certainly it is worthy of that kind of cerebral appreciation. So on page 58 of this issue, we have Ben Benedict's insights into the deep aesthetic appeal of this special landscape. Ben is a professor of architecture at Williams College and is married to Heidi Humphrey, Stratton Magazine's art director. It's fun when we can keep it in the family.
I drove on through Pawlet and out to Butternut Bend and passed by more stories that had already appeared in the magazine and a couple that seemed like possibilities for future issues. Around here, you just have to keep your eyes open. We are lucky enough to live in a place that is both surprising and durable. Old things endure and inspire; new people arrive and surprise us. So where do we come up with our ideas here at the magazine? We just look around. There are stories everywhere.
And, oh, by the way, my daughter served a wonderful soup for lunch. I provided the bread and cheese. And my granddaughter? She's adorable. Would you like to see a picture?
In a future issue, perhaps.