In the foreground you see the guest of honor, the Red Chair, in front of Dublin’s Town Hall with the Dublin Public Library in the background. With a wider camera lens, you would see Dublin’s Police Station on the left of the Town Hall.

Also clustered in this tiny area  is Yankee Publishing, Inc. (YPI), home of Yankee Magazine and The Old Farmer’s Almanac, and the reason for the Red Chair’s visit to Dublin.

The Red Chair visits Yankee Publishing in Dublin, New Hampshire.

Upon its arrival, Yankee Magazine‘s editor Mel Allen bounced downstairs from his office to greet the Red Chair and learn more about its travels from the keepers of the chair, the very lovely Beth and her husband.

One little behind-the-scenes tidbit about Mel is that he was called “Bouncy” as a nickname when he was a young kid. You see he has very strong calf muscles–so strong that to this day he cannot stroll at an even gait. He actually bounces along. But, I digress.

Mel wrote notes on his small pad as he learned how the chair he was sitting on went from being a red chair to the Red Chair. Here’s Mel taking notes. As you can see, the editor of Yankee Magazine is so classic New England that he sports the iconic Nantucket Reds.

Yankee’s editor sporting Nantucket Reds, a New England classic.

Well, not really. Actually, because of the Red Chair’s visit he wore his favorite fire engine red pants. He really wanted his pants to match with the Red Chair.

Okay, not really. Actually, he was wearing his L.L. Bean khakis.

Yankee’s editor looking very L.L. Beanish in his khakis.

Not true.

Here’s the truth.

Such a talented editor and writer, Mel is much more comfortable telling a story rather than being part of the story. Or in this case, he was very uncomfortable as I started snapping pictures of him sitting in the Red Chair. You see, it was a Friday. And like some offices, YPI celebrates “Casual Friday.” And on this particular late-September Friday, New England was enjoying temperatures in the 80s, so Mel wore his favorite shorts to work. As the camera snapped away, Mel muttered, “Please try not to get my shorts in the picture.” He went on to tell Beth and her husband about YPI’s tradition of “Casual Friday” in his attempt to explain why he was wearing shorts at the office.  But not getting his shorts in the picture while trying to get a photo of Mel in the chair was impossible, so I promised him that we would Photoshop some pants on him. You see how he looks like he is really smiling in the picture. What he was thinking was, “I am going to kill Heather,” while I continued to snap away with my camera.

So, here he is in his Eastern Mountain Sports shorts.

Yankee’s editor wearing his Eastern Mountain Sports shorts on YPI’s “Casual Friday.”

Moments later, Judson D. Hale, Sr., Yankee’s editor-in-chief, strolled in wearing his own “Casual Friday” attire. It was great timing because Jud is such an important part of Yankee’s history–and he really enjoys striking a pose for the camera, unlike some other editors.

Jud Hale striking a pose with the Red Chair.

He’s the nephew of Robb Sagendorph, Yankee’s founder, and has worked here for over 50 years. I also wanted to get some pictures of the Red Chair in Jud’s world famous museum, Jud’s Museum–built on faith, hope and charity, and he happily offered to give his official one and a half minute tour. He usually also offers another option, an all-day tour which includes lunch, but it was 4 p.m. on a Friday and he had better things to do so he didn’t even mention that.

Jud gives a tour of Jud’s Museum.

Jud told us how he acquired Napoleon’s hanky. He showed us the stuffed chicken he brought on the “Today Show” and tried to convince Katie Couric that it was hypnotized. “We’d had an article in the Almanac about how to hypnotize a chicken,” Jud explained. “She didn’t buy it, but she realized it was stuffed.” He showed us a splinter from the battleship Maine. Spikes made by Paul Revere. Einstein’s brain. The first safety pin to ever fly over the North Pole.

Clockwise from left: Red Chair with oil painting of Robb Sagendorph; Red Chair with old Yankee Publishing sign; Red Chair with green Red Sox chairs .

We were about 65 seconds into our minute and a half tour when Jud started looking at the Red Chair somewhat quizzically. He said, “Gosh, all of sudden, this seems like déjà vu.” He scratched his head and reminisced about a publicity tour he did in Switzerland a few years ago for The Old Farmer’s Almanac. He explained that there just happened to be a red chair when he needed to sit down so he could change into a pair of lederhosen on the street. He had promised the publisher, Sherin Pierce, that he would get a picture of himself wearing lederhosen and holding a copy of the Almanac. Then he questioned his recollection and started digging through a pile of pictures.

Jud has a “deja vu” moment.

“Maybe the chair was green. It was a few years ago. Perhaps, no I am sure it was red.” And before we knew it, he found the picture in question. And sure enough, it wasn’t just any red chair in Switzerland that he sat on. It was the Red Chair. Jud had proof. We must have gotten a little excited and loud at that point because  Mel, whose office is right next door to Jud’s Museum, poked his head in the door and asked what we were talking about.

Jud Hale holding a copy of The Old Farmer’s Almanac while sporting a pair of lederhosen with Red Chair in foreground.

So Jud showed the picture of himself sporting lederhosen to Mel. In turn, Mel smiled flexing his calf muscles and said, “Well, I am glad today is ‘Casual Friday.’ Now I have proof that my calves are nicer than Jud’s.”

And that is pretty much how our minute and a half tour of Jud’s Museum ended as well as our time with the Red Chair. So, we bid farewell to the Red Chair, wishing it the best and inviting it to return again anytime. Jud’s saving a spot for the Red Chair at his table.

Jud is saving this spot at his table for the Red Chair.

Postscript:  Please learn more about the Red Chair and its journey by visiting RedChairTravels.com.  For more on Jud’s Museum, click here.  And yes, four photos in this blog have been “slightly” retouched using Photoshop.

The Red Chair, 2012

The post Red Chair Visits Yankee Magazine appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Fortunately, there are lots of learning opportunities here at Yankee. For the past few years Yankee Magazine has put out an annual “cookbookazine” with themes like Classic Recipes and Seasonal Favorites. The 2011 Homemade Favorites for Every Season was a winner at this year’s City and Regional Magazine Awards, getting kudos for both its recipes and the tempting photography. This year’s edition (coming out in October 2012) is right in my wheelhouse with a theme of Lost and Vintage Recipes. I’ve been helping Senior Lifestyle Editor Amy Traverso with the recipe testing for the cookbook, so when Art Director Lori Pedrick asked if I would wanted to help out at the photo shoot, I jumped at the chance to watch the food and photo magic unfold.

Some of the dishes I had made before, like Blueberry Boy Bait, Crumb Coffee Cake, Black and White Cookies, Fudge, Jam Thumbprint Cookies, and Popcorn Balls.

Blueberry Boy Bait, Black and White Cookies, and Popcorn Balls.

Showing up at Heath Robbins Photography for the shoot was like stepping into Narnia. The outside of the industrial mill brick building complex in Framingham, MA where the studio is housed couldn’t have prepared me for the beautiful, enormous, sun-drenched loft space inside — complete with office workspace, full kitchen, lounge area, dining table, prop tables, and studio space. Heath and his hardworking staff (like the lovely Jenna and Jason) are a talented and well-oiled machine.

Heath Robbins Photography studio, facing towards the kitchen.

Heath Robbins Photography studio, facing away from the kitchen.

My role was to bake a little and help the pros however I could, but otherwise I was a sponge. Along with Heath behind the camera, food stylist Catrine Kelty was on hand to prepare, style, and often times bite the food so it looked just right for the shot. Meanwhile, prop stylist Beth Wickwire chose the plates, napkins, linens, cutlery, etc. to best compliment the dish and achieve the look and feel Lori wanted for the shots to flow together in the final book. Watching these four creative minds hard at work — examining every angle, every crumb, every tilt of the spoon, every shade of yellow — was both mesmerizing and enthralling, especially when they finally got “the shot.”

Food stylist Catrine Kelty, photographer Heath Robbins, Yankee Art Director Lori Pedrick, and prop stylist Beth Wickwire watch the progress on screen.

When I said prop tables I meant serious prop tables. Stylists know in advance what color palettes and tone the client is looking for, and they bring masses of props that will best fit the theme.

Prop stylist Beth Wickwire had my heart fluttering with her tables of goodies.

Our Lost and Vintage theme, and a soft but colorful color palette, dictated Beth’s choice of props. Watch for those scales to show up in a fun shot come October!

Props galore -- from cutlery and scales to dishes and deviled egg carriers.

Bags and bags of cheery, vintage linens were at our disposal, as were dozens of classic aluminum baking tins in all shapes and sizes. The vintage-loving baker in me swooned like a teenager with a matinee-idol crush.

Linens and tins were abundant and beautiful.

Dishes, spoons, and napkins in warm, soft colors.

Catrine knows how to make food look delicious, but also edible. It takes natural artistic talent and a good eye to achieve this, but she also has a few tools and tricks to help reach picture-perfect results.

Food stylist Catrine Kelty came armed with a wealth of energy, tools, and tricks.

Working as a team, Catrine, Heath, and Beth nudged everything into place. Yes, the food was being expertly photographed on a door on the floor, but when you see the final shot, you’d never know.

Catrine Kelty, Heath Robbins, and Beth Wickwire making food photo magic.

Blueberry Boy Bait ready for its close up with Heath Robbins.

Some shots show a dish in progress instead of the fished result.

Being behind the scenes at a Yankee cookbook photo shoot was a special and memorable experience for me — not just because it was yet another “first” in my tenure here at Yankee, but because I had the chance to flit on the edges of an artistic process I would normally never experience at that level. Working down the hall from Lori, I know how much time she spends thinking and dreaming up creative concepts and ideas for the Yankee publications, and it was a true pleasure to watch the fruits of those dreams take shape before my eyes, and then see the gorgeous images on the computer screen while the camera flashed.

Of course, some other significant perks of being on set were snacking on the leftovers after a dish had been shot, and playing with Jenna’s dog Lucy. I don’t know how she fit that enormous baseball in her mouth, but she did…over and over again!

Perks at the shoot included the 2 L's: Leftovers and Lucy.

I can’t wait to see the finished result when the cookbook comes together. I know it’s going to look terrific, and I think you’ll agree. Look for it on newsstands in October and tell us what you think!

Thanks to Lori, Heath, Catrine, Beth, and the team at Heath Robbins Photography for letting me participate in this year’s shoot!

Want to know more about what it’s like to be Behind the Scenes at a Yankee Magazine Cookbook Photo Shoot? Check out Amy Traverso’s “Inside a Cookbook Photo Shoot” blog from the award-winning 2011 shoot.

The post Behind the Scenes at a Yankee Cookbook Photo Shoot appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

But Yankee Publishing is not that kind of place.  It’s located in the heart of Dublin, New Hampshire, a place that doesn’t get much more small-town New England.  I was familiar with the area from my childhood.  When I was growing up in Ashburnham, Massachusetts, my uncle would pile all five of us cousins in the pickup and hop the border to take us swimming at nearby Dublin Lake.  To get there, we would drive through downtown Dublin.  It’s not much more than a few seconds of library and town hall before it’s gone—probably one of the few places left in America that can still rightfully be called a “village.”

The center of Dublin Village, with the Dublin Town Hall in the background.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised, entering my new work place, that it felt more like the comfort of my grandmother’s house than an uptight office complex.  The building has the easygoing presence of a farmhouse, or a barn, and it flaunts the same country red.  Inside, the pine-paneled walls give the same impression.  It feels original, historic, and homey.  It feels like New England.

The Yankee Publishing building in Dublin, NH.

With each day I came to understand the reasoning.  Yankee Magazine is a publication intensely involved with its own history.  Editor-in-Chief Jud Hale, whose uncle Rob Sagendorph started Yankee in 1935, is still on staff after 54 years. Sagendorph’s photo looks over the main stairwell here, and his vision remains in place.  Flipping through the back issues (they’re all on hand here at the office) is like traveling back in time.  Each page is a chronicle of New England’s past, its people and its culture.

Archived issues of Yankee Magazine, dating back to 1935.

Here at Yankee, that heritage is something to be proud of.  The break room holds a vintage Coke machine, where the cans still only cost fifty cents. Down the hall, an old oak office sign is on display, noticeably aged but beautifully preserved.  Most of the employees get their lunch down the street at the Dublin General Store, where a massive sandwich rings up fewer than five dollars.

A vintage Coca-Cola machine, one of the treasures of Yankee's break room.

But it’s not that this company is stuck in the past.  It’s something else.  Something in the fact that even the high tech Keurig machine serves Vermont local Green Mountain Coffee.  It’s about knowing where you come from.

That’s critical knowledge when you’re working towards the future.  The editors here plan their issues years in advance.  Imagine my amazement when they first started discussing projects for 2014—the issue due out next month hasn’t even been completed!  Then, in the same conversation, somebody else would reference an article printed in Yankee fifteen years ago.  Everyone here is looking simultaneously towards the past and into the future.  It’s all part of the timeless legacy that is Yankee Magazine.

The weathervane of the Dublin Community Church (the view from my window here at Yankee.)

I’m finally starting to settle in to that strange rhythm.  My workstation isn’t exactly an office, but two of its three walls are made of real wood.  And it has a window.  I can’t see much from it, except the steeple of the nearby church, and the weathervane atop it.  But still, it’s a view.  And, if nothing else, I’ll always know where the winds of change are coming from.  And where they’re headed.

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And more than that.  Fun and useful, entertaining and maybe even provocative.  That process takes time. And a lot of talking. A lot of bad ideas that may start discussion about ideas that may work.

Each Wednesday morning the editors squeeze into a small conference room. On one wall hang the covers from the last few years, reminders in a way of where we have been. On another wall we see the designed layouts for the issue we are working on—now May/June. Each day more pages hang down, like watching a garden grow, except faster.  But those words have already been written, the photos already shot.  What we talk about, instead is the future. Winter months from now.  In a sense we live constantly in a form of time travel, two winters at a time, winter squared.

Each issue is part quilt, part jigsaw puzzle, fitting fragments and pieces together until something coherent, and at times, beautiful emerges. But getting there can be messy—with scraps strewn here and there like so many strays.

Here’s where we are so far: we think there will be a story about wool, another about sleighs, something about the challenges of teaching children how to ski, something about snowplowing,  There’s lots of other ideas clambering to get in—but so far they keep sliding back, as if on an icy slope.

Sometimes a story keeps pestering us. It may begin as a vague notion, but if the idea is good enough it never lets go, jabbing at us meeting after meeting until we relent and figure out how to do it right.   Whether we succeed with the winter of 2013 issue won’t be known until the spring sun melts this year’s snow, then the summer crops come up, and the leaves turn,  and finally, the early dark comes back and the wood is stacked, and you look in the mailbox and there is our new winter issue.

By then, of course,  in this world of winter squared, we’ll be deep into 2014.

The post The World of Winter Squared appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Recently, while dining at a local restaurant, I overheard this statement from a patron speaking to his waitress:

“I’ll do the duck.”

Oh dear. So many irreverent and inappropriate comments can be made in follow-up to that statement. I will resist for the moment. Let’s just let that gentleman serve as a cautionary tale, for what a difference a word can make.

Proofreading sounded easy enough. I have a decent command of the English language and a good eye for detail. No big deal, right? My wonderful colleague provided a collection of books to aid me in my task. Surely, there’d be no grammar or punctuation conundrum that I couldn’t solve, given enough time to consult these books.

My favorite of these books is Roy Peter Clark’s The Glamour of Grammar. Yet what this book taught me is that grammar and punctuation rules are not hard and fast. On the subject of the old rule to never end a sentence with a preposition, Mr. Clark advises that to follow the old rule “would mark you as a prig and a bore” if you were to say “From where are you coming?” instead of “Where are you coming from?” He further advises that to anyone who will not answer the latter question because it is a sentence ending in a preposition, you should ask, “Where are you coming from, you pompous ass?”

I do like that Roy Peter Clark. Yet these new trends and new rules make the work of a proofreader less cut-and-dried. Like fashion trends (it was once frowned upon to wear white after Labor Day, or anything but black at a funeral), the rules of grammar are modernizing. I rather wish it were not so. It is easier to defend a change in word usage or punctuation when the rules are black-and-white. So, what to do? Well, what’s proven to be the best advice I’ve received: Follow the rules as closely as makes sense, and follow one’s ear, too, for the way a sentence sounds when read aloud. Strive for clarity. And for goodness’ sake, order the duck.

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The Sunlight Print Kit.

One of my favorite gifts I found for my daughters this past Christmas was a sunlight print kit at a wonderful local bookstore, The Toadstool Bookshop. I’ve been hoping to do this project with them for quite awhile now and given their ages, 6 and almost 4, I was sure it would hold their interest. The day before we were all headed back to school and work, it was mostly sunny, so we decided it was a good day to tackle the project. I was worried about finding natural objects to work with, but even in winter, there is plenty to choose from.

Materials.

I was lucky and happened upon a live fern on one of my walks so that became my object of choice. We also gathered other things outside our home for the girls to choose from-dried flowers, small lilac twigs, leaves and grasses. Ella has been collecting feathers for some time now so her choice was easy. Lucy’s first try involved some tiny flowers that unfortunately, didn’t end up working well. I think if we had pressed the flowers in a book it would have worked fine, but they weren’t quite flat enough to create a strong impression on the paper so we ended up doing a second one with a couple of oak leaves. This is an incredibly simple process and the results are almost immediate so for those with short attention spans, a perfect activity.

Sunlight paper with fern just placed in sunlight.

To start, we pulled individual sheets of paper from the protective black envelope, then placed our objects of choice on the sunlight paper and covered the paper with the clear plastic top that came with the kit to hold the object in place. We placed the paper in direct sunlight and waited until the bluish paper turned a whitish hue.

The blue paper turns whitish when exposed long enough to the sun.

The sun wasn’t cooperating with us that day and kept disappearing behind passing clouds so the usual 30 seconds turned into more like 15 minutes, but in the end, it worked just as well. When we removed Ella’s feather, the impression left by the object looked blue.

After exposure to the sun, the impression left by the object (in this case a feather) is blue.

We then took the paper, submerged and agitated it completely in water with a few drops of citric acid (we had limes on hand so a few drops of that worked just fine).

Ella sets her print in the water.

We then removed the print from the water fix and lay it flat to dry. The impression where the object was reversed its hue and turned more white while the surrounding area of the paper turned a beautiful deep blue while it dried.

As the print dries, the color surrounding the object turns a deeper blue.

We’re planning to frame the three prints together to put in the girls’ work-in-progress bathroom when it’s completed. And, I’m sure come spring (if we can wait that long), we’ll all head out again to forage for some more objects to experiment with.

The dried prints feature a feather, oak leaves and a fern frond.

Lucy and Ella with their finished sunlight prints.

I will always have a great respect and appreciation for all forms of photography and I suppose this project was a small way of paying homage to that. It’s great to revisit some of the earliest methods for creating images and definitely brought back fond memories for me of working in the darkroom in my parent’s basement when I was younger. That equipment is long gone, but now I wish we had held onto it. I also wanted to share one of Anna Atkins’ beautiful cyanotypes from her book, Photographs of British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions, published in 1843, for further inspiration. She was a botanist in her day and is considered to be the first person to publish a book illustrated with photographic images.  Many also recognize her as the first woman photographer.

Cyanotype of algae Dictyota dichotoma from Anna Atkins' book, British Algae, 1843.

If you are interested in creating your own sunlight prints, below is the link to the kit we used. It includes a small book with a brief history of early photography along with ideas for prints including the recipe for how to make your own sunlight paper. It’s also easy to find sunlight paper in various sizes online as well.

http://www.chroniclebooks.com/titles/the-sunlight-print-kit.html

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Nevertheless, fast forward to September and we are now in January. Huh? What I mean is that on September 1, we begin production on our winter issue, our January/February issue. And this year, for 2012, we decided to shake things up. Mel Allen, our editor, and the team here at Yankee chose to do a special section called Loving Winter: 43 Reasons to Love the Season. It’s an amazing 30-some pages of pure editorial fun, packed with humor, memoirs, recipes and more. Everything you need to know about making the most of winter is contained here, with enough reasons to embrace the season that you’ll be hard-pressed to hibernate this year.

This was a source of inspiration for the concept of our Jan/Feb 2012 cover. It's a winter cover from 1987. The cost for an issue of Yankee Magazine back then was $1.95.

When starting to think about the design of this section we needed an idea that could work well on the cover and also tie into this special package. I decided to call on Erick Ingraham who might as well be an honorary staff member. He’s an illustrator and artist who lives here in Peterborough and probably knows more about Yankee than I do. Erick has been creating pieces for Yankee for many years, having worked with our previous Art Directors, most notably, Jay Porter. I’ve always loved working with Erick and felt that his energy and style were perfect for collaborating on this cover. When he decided to come on board, I knew we’d end up with something special.

Our special Jan/Feb 2012 cover.

The walls of Yankee are filled with wonderful memories, past covers, and unique works of art. For the past 4 years, I’ve passed by the same poster hanging on one of the walls of our second floor. It’s an enlargement of an old Yankee cover from 1987 — a scene in winter with a beautiful, soft illustration of a group of children ice skating on a pond. I pass it multiple times per day and every time I smile. A light bulb went off, and I thought, Here’s a chance to give a nod to Yankee’s past and create a contemporary winter scene of children at play, inspired by this piece of art that I love so much. And who better to illustrate it than Erick? I then started to think of what I loved about winter. There are many things, but one of my fondest memories of winter as a child was the anticipation of a snow day. I thought this worked on many levels — an idea that could transcend generations. Everyone remembers the excitement of a snow day. I mean, who doesn’t recall throwing themselves down in fresh powder and creating the perfect snow angel? And who didn’t enjoy the challenge of a good old-fashioned snowball fight? What better way to spend the day than sledding on your favorite hill with your best friend? And once all the fun was done and you were soaked through, who didn’t run inside to find mom waiting with a warm cup of cocoa and mini-marshmallows to boot? Our cover would display children at play in the snow and embody the spirit of pure joy. I wanted our readers to smile the same way that old cover made me smile.

There’s a lot to be said for winter in New England. Some good, some bad. I like to believe the good outweighs the bad, and my hope for you is that you embrace this winter season and find special ways to create memories of your own. I know I will. Pick up a copy of our issue and discover some of the ways our editors have found to love it too.

The post Loving Winter in New England: Creating a Special Jan/Feb Cover appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Our powers are a bit more modest, constructed as they are, entirely around issue planning. This time of year is an especially busy stretch. Just this week I’ve been delving into March-April, planning out a travel story that will run next November-December, and poring over story ideas for 2013, and in a few cases, 2014.

Most recently I’ve been concentrating on the Best of New England selections for our May-June 2012 travel issue. We publish some 300 each year and as the editor of the section, it’s a real treat to work with our travel writers on the places they’re seeing open, change, or just continue to thrive.

Even as a born-and-raised New Englander and a longtime Yankee editor, it’s impossible to know, in detail, every nook-and-cranny of every state. New shops open. Inns are restored. Fresh owners of familiar stops emerge. Then there are longtime local favorites that for whatever reason haven’t popped up on my radar screen yet.

It’s the kind of desk work that makes a man want to hit the open road; to fill up on country fare in Maine, or conquer my fear of heights with a zip line tour in Massachusetts. There are pretzels to gorge on, inns to relax in, and miles and miles of hiking trails to explore.

Of course, I suspect you’ll get the same feeling in May-June when our travel issue comes out. I’m just doing the favor of reporting back from the future to let you know what you have to look forward to.

The post The Future Calls appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

A peek at the Yankee Archives folders.

Last week I came across a folder titled “Animal Rescue League of Boston,” and inside were copies of six black and white photographs.  The top photo was taken in 1919, and featured a horse-drawn carriage, decked out in holiday garland with banners titled “Animal Rescue League” and “Christmas for the Horses.”  The caption underneath explained that it was the sixth annual Christmas dinner for horses, when members of the League would travel throughout the city, delivering “meals of oats, carrots, and apples to the working horses of Boston.”

Christmas for the Horses.

Christmas dinner for city work horses?!  Be still my animal-loving heart.

Wanting to learn more, I called the Animal Rescue League of Boston, now celebrating its 112th year, and was connected with Jennifer Wooliscroft, the League’s Director of Communications.  Jennifer immediately knew which photograph I was referring to, and was able to fill in the gaps.

She explained that the founder of the Animal Rescue League of Boston, Anna Harris Smith, had been especially passionate about advocating for the shelter and care of the city’s many neglected and hungry animals at the end of the nineteenth century.  This differed somewhat from the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (MSPCA), founded 31 years earlier, which focused more on establishing and enforcing animal protection laws.

Anna Harris Smith loved all animals, but had a special soft spot for horses.  It’s easy to forget how important urban work horses were in the days before the automobile, but in the late 19th century and early 20th century, horses were critical in the day-to-day workings of all US cities.  These “draft horses” not only transported all manner of goods within the city and to and from railroad stations, but also facilitated both public and private transportation and emergency services, such as ambulances and fire trucks…before they were trucks.

Anna and the ARL of Boston believed that these horses deserved treats at Christmas just like the rest of us, so the “Christmas Dinner for Horses” campaign was born, and continued into the 21st century.  As recently as 2009, the League still delivered holiday goodies to the rapidly shrinking number of working horses within the city, made even smaller that year by the loss of the Boston Police Department’s 12-member mounted police patrol due to lack of funding.

Photos from the Animal Rescue League of Boston archive folder.

You never know what you’re going to find in the Yankee Archives, or where it’s going to take you.  On this visit I found myself appreciating urban work horses like never before, wondering about what happened to all of the horse manure they must have been generating, arguing with myself about whether or not I should adopt a cat from the adoption page of the Animal Rescue League of Boston’s website (don’t say I didn’t warn you), and thinking about ways I can spread my own oat bag of Christmas cheer this season.

Until next time in the Yankee Archives…

For another take on our editorial history, this time in index form, as well as an explanation of what an authentic “Yankee Story” truly is, I urge you to read the very funny “Perusing the Yankee Index” by Justin Shatwell.

The post The Yankee Archives: Christmas Dinner for Horses appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Colorful buoys that will soon top the famous lobster trap Christmas tree.

If you’ve been to Provincetown, Massachusetts in the height of summer, you know there are few more entertaining destinations in the country. You can pass a day simply people watching on Commercial Street, the three mile long living carnival of homes, shops and humanity that runs parallel to Cape Cod Bay.

You can walk for hours through the undulating dunes of the Province Lands in the Cape Cod National Seashore. You can simply throw down a blanket on the beach and let the enervating surf cool you down.  And you can share all of this with some 50,000 plus like minded visitors, who are willing to wait for traffic to crawl through town, wait for restaurant tables, wait for parking by the beach.

Approaching Fisherman’s Wharf by boat.

Which is why I love off season.  There may be at best barely 3000 year-rounders to share the streets with you. Like bookend visits, I came to Provincetown in April and again this November, just before the town’s famous Thanksgiving lighting of the Pilgrim Monument. The monument seems to follow your gaze wherever you are in town, or even on the wind swept dunes. The monument symbolizes the town’s pride in its history—and reminds everyone that the pilgrims first made landfall right here in Provincetown Harbor, and signed the Mayflower Compact while anchored offshore. If you had forgotten that fact before coming to town, you won’t soon forget it again after visiting the Pilgrim Monument and Provincetown Museum.

Provincetown’s Pilgrim Monument.

Commercial Street beckoned with only a relative handful of cars and pedestrians, all of waving to each other as if we were all in on a wonderful secret.

The Outer Cape’s ocean waters moderates temperatures—flowers bloom here earlier and stay longer.  In April the lovely, well kept homes that hug the narrow, winding streets were already boasting flourishing gardens.

April flowers start the season with color.

And here I was just days before Thanksgiving, looking at roses refusing to relent to winter’s black and white world.

A November rose resists the coming cold.

If you want to know the details we checked into the Anchor Inn and Beachhouse.

We were greeted by Molly, the resident Labrador.  Provincetown boasts it is the most dog friendly town in America and that was certainly borne out as no matter where we strolled, we saw dogs and their owners—and you couldn’t walk for more than a few minutes without seeing a welcoming dog dish filled with water.

Molly taking her ease.

Just two of Provincetown’s many canine residents.

To get a room at the inn with a sweeping view of the bay in summer would have required a reservation made perhaps in the dark heart of winter. But even though a number of B&Bs and inns close up after Columbus day, so too, there are always others who keep welcome signs posted year-round.

Sunrise from the Anchor Inn and Beachhouse.

The venerable Lobster Pot Restaurant is famous for its “line out the doors and down the street,” our waitress told us as she seated us. Sharing the dining room of this mother and son run restaurant was a couple huddled in one corner, and a playwright from New York City who said he’d been coming for nearly 20 years and celebrating his birthday right here each time at the Lobster Pot. We caught a break since the restaurant would soon close until April. Our meals: blackened tuna sashimi and sole almondine showed why even though it is one of Provincetown’s most famous dining stops, it is one of those rare places that lives up to its following.

The famous Lobster Pot Restaurant.

Tuna sashimi at the Lobster Pot.

Sole almondine at the Lobster Pot.

Mornings start early when your room faces the rising sun.  Which is good because I was ready to explore. On foot. Off season when Commercial Street and the entire town hums to a different rhythm.

Breakfast could not have been more convenient—about five steps from the inn’s front door. Bayside Betsy’s, with its tables looking out to the beach and the brightening sky, all made brighter by delicious and hearty fare. As is the case with so many of Provincetown  eateries, your waiter (in this case Steve) had a personality that mixed serving with comedy.

Bayside Betsy’s serves breakfast with a view.

Our waiter Steve is part of the experience at Bayside Betsy’s.

After breakfast, several hours of meandering followed.

We saw workers fixing, repairing, battening up, at once getting ready for winter, and at the same time laying the foundation for the spring and summer ahead.

The off season is the right season for repairs.

I don’t think there is a dull block along Commercial Street.  Whether exploring famous MacMillan Wharf with fishing boats bobbing by the dock,

Boats at MacMillan Wharf

Or walking to the end of the pier to look at the famous mural with its tribute to the women who sustained the fishermen on their long, dangerous voyages

Fisherman’s wives art mural at Fisherman’s Wharf.

or meandering down alley ways which peek onto the sand and water,

There were views around every corner in Provincetown.

or just appreciating the trim cottages, or looking at the home where Norman Mailer lived and wrote (now a writer’s colony since his death), a day unfolds at whatever pace you want.

Walking the waterfront with the Pilgrim Monument in the distance.

Norman Mailer’s house is now a writer’s colony.

Off season there are fewer shops open, sure, but also few people tugging at the stuff you want.  I think every store had 50% off sales—and it’s no surprise that the days after Thanksgiving lading to Christmas sees a surge of visitors who come for fun and bargains.

Plenty of shops remain open in the off season.

Marine Specialties is part shopping mecca and part vaudeville show—in this case the performers being the eclectic shelves filled with anything you might ever imagine to see if a store was stocked by someone with a great sense of humor.  Pith helmets? If you’ve been looking, you’ve come to the right place.

Marine Specialties offers can’t-miss browsing.

Pith helmets? They’ve got those.

There are any number of lunch stops, but I discovered Napi’s one spring and we spoke about it for months afterward.

Napi’s restaurant – famous for its food and ambiance.

It is part art gallery, part repository of Provincetown memories, and for decades has stoked the fires of its customers.  I asked our waitress for the recipe of its famous Portuguese kale soup and in moments she returned with a printed copy.

Portuguese Kale Soup from Napi’s.

Portuguese Kale Soup
Recipe from Napi’s in Provincetown, MA

Ingredients
1 lb. linguica
1 lb. chorizo (a spicier version of linguica)
1 bunch kale
1 lb. dried kidney beans or 3 cans of the beans
1 large onion, diced
2 large potatoes, chopped
2 small cans of tomato paste
Salt and pepper to taste
Cider vinegar

Directions

• Follow package directions for soaking beans ( if you use canned skip this step)
• Cut linguica and chorizo into thin rounds and sauté in just enough oil to keep them from burning.
• Remove and place in soup pot.
• Sauté the diced onion in the pan. Add to soup pot.
• Add beans and enough of their water and plain water if necessary to cover to the soup pot.
• Add potatoes, and salt and pepper and tomato paste to taste.
• Cook gently until the beans are as tender as you like.
• Wash kale, remove stems and cut into bite size pieces. Add to soup.
• Cook until the kale is cooked to your taste.
• After the soup has been put into a bowl, add a splash of vinegar.

After lunch we had to climb the Pilgrim Monument, its tower rising over 252 tall. The walk is relatively easy, with gusts of wind at the top all but taking your breath away, but no more so than the hawk’s eye view of the town, the bay, the distant dunes.

View from atop the Pilgrim Monument.

The museum itself is one of those treasures that can all too easily be overlooked.  There is a room devoted to Polar explorer and Provincetown native Admiral Donald MacMillan’s numerous explorations. And I guarantee you will come away with a greater appreciation of the pilgrim experience after visiting the Pilgrim wing and it’s diorama of the Mayflower.

A white wolf brought back from one of Admiral MacMillan’s polar expeditions.

The jaw bone of a finback whale leaves childrens’ mouths agape.

In summer you may share sunset watching at Race Point in the National Seashore with a hundred or more people—but on this November afternoon, with the wind billowing and sand swirling, we seemingly had the entire coastline to ourselves.  When you are alone on the dune backed shoreline, it is easy to forget that only a mile or so away is a town filled with light and noise and camaraderie. In the Provincelands offseason at twilight it is lovely and lonely, as if on a deserted island.

Dunes at Race Point.

Sunset at Race Point.

A final Provincetown dinner had to be fish, fresh from the water just beyond our table at the Central House at the Crown and Anchor Inn.

You can never go wrong with fresh fish in Provincetown.

The last thing we did the following morning was to gather up those ubiquitous real estate brochures –with cottages and condos, and homes ranging from affordable (especially if you rent it out in high season) to this is great when we win the lottery.

Could we live in Provincetown?  We could. Could you?

I could live here. Could you?

The post Getting to Know Provincetown appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

But it’s also a hard time. It’s like looking over hundreds of photographs of your children and being asked to choose a dozen favorites.

2011 Covers

Here’s what I do. I take each issue and read it cover to cover as if I were seeing it for the first time. It’s a delicious way to spend an afternoon in November, with the light fading by 4:00, and then when everyone leaves for the day, I’m still surrounded by all these Yankee stories and photos and wonderful Web features.

Here are some of my children, as it were, for 2011. The envelopes, please … (Here’s where a hushed tension grips the room …)

Fresh From the Orchard from the September/October 2011 issue

For best food writing, I entered Amy Traverso’s wonderful “Fresh from the Orchard” from the September/October issue. If you love apples, you come away from this story with knowledge, recipes, and a desire to find some. Right away.

For reporting, I found Ben Hewitt’s “Battle Lines” from the current November/December issue to be the most lucid and most personal accounts of an environmental fight that has been the leading story in New Hampshire this year. All issue stories come down to finding people through which to tell the tale, and Ben Hewitt succeeded. We’ve received more letters praising his evenhanded reporting than for any other story we published this year.

The Restorer from the January/February 2011 Issue

Ian Aldrich’s “The Restorer” in our January/February issue was one of the best profiles I read in any magazine all year, as he recounted Jon Wilson’s determination to bridge the terrible emotional gulf between victim and victimizer.

Joining that story as a dual entry for best profile was Justin Shatwell’s riveting “The Memory/Keeper” in March/April. Readers learned of Joe Manning’s growing obsession with tracking down the descendants of millworkers, once the subject of Lewis Hine’s searing portraits a century ago.

Summer on the Lake from the July/August 2011 issue

One of our photo essay nominations is “Summer on the Lake,” Richard Schultz’s portrayal of a week on Maine’s Sebago Lake, where days seem to drift with the lapping of water on shore, and children form lifetime bonds.

None of these decisions came easy. How do you choose one terrific blog from among so many? How do you choose one travel story that makes you tingle with wanting to go to that place, over another that does the same?

We send out these and another dozen entries in a few days. In a few months the City and Regional Magazine judges will let us know whether they agree that in 2011, some of the best journalism in print and on the Web, both written and visual, came from this office in Dublin, New Hampshire. I hope they do. I think they will.

The post Choosing the Best Yankee Stories of the Year appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

I grew up in Westford, Massachusetts -– a rural-suburban kind of town, meaning that I lived in a neighborhood with families, but we had room for a chicken coop in the backyard. Nature was readily available, and I spent a lot of time in the woods exploring.

After high school I went to college and then spent seven years in the Boston neighborhoods of Brighton, Brookline, and, most recently, Somerville. I commuted into the city for work by walking or public transportation. I didn’t own a car and didn’t want one, though sometimes – such as when I was trudging up the hill on Vinal Street, saddled down with overflowing canvas totes of groceries — I thought the convenience of trunk space was vastly underrated.

As the years went by, I began to miss the sights and sounds of rural New England, and the ease of quickly transporting myself into fresh country air and the beauty of a country drive or ocean swim. I got out of the city for daytrips and long weekends as often as possible, but it never seemed often enough.

Short trips to places like Acadia National Park in Maine helped cure my city blues.

I knew I was ready for a change, so when the opportunity to work for Yankee Publishing (beloved source of all things New England) as a full-time assistant editor in its Dublin, New Hampshire, headquarters presented itself a year later, I packed my bags and headed for the Monadnock region.

Instead of in Somerville, I now live in charming, historic Keene, New Hampshire, and I’ve swapped my MBTA Charlie Card for a car. Now, instead of a 40-minute city bus ride, my commute to work is half that and looks like this:

Headed towards the Yankee offices in Dublin, NH via Route 101.

(In the spirit of full disclosure, however, I will say that the city bus was a heck of a lot cheaper.)

Instead of getting coffee from a large chain on my way into work, I make it at home or stop in at the Dublin General Store and refill my travel cup for 75 cents.

The Dublin General Store is just down the road.

Instead of a high-rise Boston office building, I work here, at Yankee Publishing in Dublin. Behind these red walls a talented and passionate group of folks work hard to put together a magazine and a Web site that both celebrate and reflect the unique spirit of New England -– a mission I’m equally devoted to, and so proud to now be a part of.

The Yankee Magazine offices in Dublin, NH.

In my first few weeks, I’ve been inspired by the energy and encouragement of my new coworkers, enjoyed lunch from a variety of local independent “general-store”-style cafés, and (last but not least) convinced myself that I do, in fact, remember how to drive.

Like any city mouse, I miss some of the urban benefits that I left behind, but I have no intention of turning back. I know that I’m a country mouse at heart, and I’m home.

The post Country Mouse Comes Home appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Recently, two such bloggers made the leap from online to print and have not only been published on the pages of Yankee, but have also become editors. Assistant Editor Aimee Seavey and Contributing Editor Christine Chitnis — respected New England bloggers in their own right — got their start on YankeeMagazine.com, and in both cases, they didn’t come to us; we approached them.

Yankee Magazine

When Aimee Seavey wrote in her blog, The Apron Archives, about a maple-cookie recipe she found in an old Yankee Magazine cookbook, she probably never thought that her post would be seen by Communications Manager, Heather Atwell, who liked it so much that she sent it along to me.

The Apron Archives

Aimee’s way of incorporating New England’s history into the recipes she was whipping up in her kitchen to share online was so compelling that I didn’t hesitate to ask her whether she’d be interested in writing a guest blog for us. She was, and her blog about anadama bread was an immediate hit with our audience. By the time she followed it up with a tour of Somerville’s Union Square, there was a permanent blogging position waiting for her on our site.

Anadama bread with butter and jam

Her posts on brown bread in a can and old-fashioned desserts were equally engaging, so it made perfect sense for Senior Lifestyle Editor Amy Traverso to assign her the “One-Pie Town” article for the November/December issue’s “Homegrown” department. It might have ended there — in most cases, probably would have ended there, but the more we got to know Aimee, the more potential we saw in her. And we’re thrilled that she officially joined our team this week!

Aimee Seavey in her office at Yankee Magazine.

Hard to believe that all that stemmed from a recipe pulled from an old cookbook, isn’t it? Although perhaps not as unlikely as the Google image search that led to Christine Chitnis. And if you think we’re not reading your posts, too, just ask Chris Sparling (@chrissparling) whether he’s the only person under 40 who reads Yankee Magazine.

Help make Chris Sparling feel less alone.

The post The Power of Blogging appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Just two weeks earlier I had graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Journalism. My first interview had been with the Philadelphia Bulletin. Sam Boyle, the paper’s managing editor, said he had no openings, but that I should go see his brother, the editor of the Mercury in Pottstown, about 25 miles away.

Robert Boyle was a throwback to a newspaper style that said cover all the news, but never hesitate to make news if it would cause readers to talk and hopefully buy the paper.  He was a Navy vet of World War 2, and had climbed the ranks from reporter to city editor to editor. He’d been there over ten years and his world view then was seen by many as eccentric, but today I am sure he’s have his own reality TV show. He made news across the country when he wrote a check from the paper to cover the entire military budget of the tiny principality  of Andorra–$5. He never hesitated to put reporters in uncomfortable positions, as long as a story emerged. He hired me, starting at a shade under $90 a week.  This was on a Wednesday June 5, the night of the Democratic Primary in California. My first day would be Monday June 17.

At shortly past midnight, Robert Kennedy gave a victory speech to his cheering supporters at the Ambassador Hotel, then threaded his way through a narrow kitchen corridor. Waiting with a .22 caliber revolver was a young Jordanian man named Sirhan Sirhan.  Three shots rang out and Robert Kennedy lay mortally wounded.

A few days later Robert Boyle called me. He told me to meet him at Sara Swann’s Costume shop in Pottstown.  He gave no details and hung up. At the costume shop he told me his plan. “Nobody knows you,” he said. “Not at the paper. Not in town.” He looked at me. I had Middle Eastern features from grandparents who came from the region. “A Jordanian merchant in the Midwest was killed the other day,” he said. “People are pretty raw.” He picked out a blue satin turban, a blue satin robe, and blue satin pants—all sequined as if they belonged in an illustration of Arabian Nights, or at the very least some club in Vegas.

Mel Allen on his first writing assignment.

“Come in wearing these,” he said. “I’m telling people you came in here. You are lost. You have no I.d. You’re from Jordan. Walk around, see what people do. And one more thing,’ he said. “I want you to try and buy a gun. A .22 caliber revolver.”

I arrived early. Boyle was alone in his office. I knew two phrases from hearing my grandparents speak growing up: Yalla! (come on, hurry up) and Sabah El-Khair (good morning.)  That was the extent of my vocabulary. Just when I was about to see what happened in town, Barbara Montgomery walked in. She was a blond haired college student who would be spending another summer as a reporter. I could see Boyle change plans.  “Bobbi,” he said, “ this young man is lost and we’re trying to figure out what to do. Show him around town for awhile. Entertain him.”

So off we went. I told her my name was Matalon, my grandfather’s last name. I said I did not speak English. I kept repeating Yalla and Sabah El-Khair as if they held a secret to my life.  We had coffee, and I acted as if I thought  the salt was sugar.  A woman came over and asked who I was. Barbara Montgomery, all smiles, said she didn’t know much about me, but that I spoke no English. “Well love is the same in all languages,” she said.

I did not know what to say next so I went right to the assignment.

“Guns. I like guns,” I said. “Can I see guns.” She ushered me to Bechtels Sports Shop with their glass cases filled with rifles, shotguns, and revolvers. The clerk did not bat an eye when I gestured to the revolver. He handed it to me.

“Buy?” I said. “No,” he replied. “Only for American citizens.

In time, we thankfully returned to the office.  Boyle looked at us. He asked Barbara Montgomery if she had met the new reporter, Mel Allen. She said no. he looked over at me, and took off my turban.

“Now you have,” he said.

He told me to write my account and told Barbara to write hers. It was my first professional byline. The title was “Jordanian visitor comes to town.” In it I wrote that everyone seemed curious about this strangely clad person, but everyone had been polite, even friendly. A clothing store owner had offered to give me American clothes even.

A few months later I left the paper to join the Peace Corps. I was in Bogota, Colombia when I saw a copy of an American newspaper. I noticed a dateline on a story: Pottstown, Pennsylvania.  It seemed a young man had gone to the Philadelphia International Airport and tried to buy a ticket. He had a parachute strapped to his back. Of course. He was a reporter for the Pottstown Mercury.

The post Yankee Editor Mel Allen’s First Byline appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

I’ve already discussed how Dublin residents are inextricably drawn to our parking lot like moths to a flame.  What I failed to mention in my previous post was that you do not even need to live around here to be affected by its evil power; its spell has gone viral.

For many years the editorial staff of Yankee Magazine has been baffled by the popularity of our webcam.  It is consistently one of the most popular items on our website, and yet it shows next to nothing.  It’s simply a fixed image of our parking lot, with a little stretch of Rte. 101 in the background.

And yet people watch it.  We know that they watch it, because people caught in the spell of the webcam feel compelled to contact us.  They want to be closer to the parking lot and learn more about it.  They’ll come up with silly questions as a pretext for starting a conversation.  “Is the flagpole on your property?”  “What kind of tree is that?”  Next they’ll feel the need to celebrate the extremely modest action the webcam captures.  If someone is caught mowing the lawn or arrives at work at an odd hour, a devotee will send us a comment about it, almost as though they just wish to remind us that they are watching.  We’ve even had instances when an article of clothing is accidently left outside, and within an hour someone on the webcam spots it and asks us to go out and get it.  And God forbid the webcam should ever malfunction or go out of focus.  The devotees will contact us en masse, demanding the return of their idol.

The occasional visit from the oil truck is a source of much conversation.

If you need any more evidence of the parking lot’s power, consider also its ability to defend itself.  We have often discussed in editorial meetings the possibility of moving the webcam.  If so many people are attracted to it, why not move it to a more scenic location, like downtown Peterborough or Keene.  Surely the Main Street of some quaint New England village would be more appealing than our parking lot.  But somehow it never happens.  The plans always stall and slip away.  Is this laziness on our part, or is the parking lot forcing us to forget and thereby preserving its connection to the broader world?

I can understand if you are still skeptical.  I was as well for a very long time.  But I will provide one final piece of evidence that should end any argument: a picture of the face of evil itself!  One of our webcam followers noticed this image and sent it to us.  It was taken by our second webcam that points at the garden and, because the garden is not haunted, has a much smaller following.  Here you can clearly see the demonic presence that lurks between our bumpers.  Death walks amongst us!  Avert your eyes from the nefarious webcam before the parking lot notices you and comes for your soul!

Water droplet or the face of the deceiver? You decide.

The post The Haunting of Yankee’s Parking Lot appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Among the stops we squeezed into the long day was Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield (http://www.hancockshakervillage.org/), and none too soon since the historic grounds are set to close for the season on October 30^th.  The Shaker’s called this community “The City of Peace” and it was easy to see why. The grounds are picturesque.  Everything is so tidy here – from the gardens to the design of the village itself, to the well-maintained buildings, each with its own specific purpose.  Yes, a lovely and instructive place to stroll around on a fine fall day. 

But, the inherent peacefulness of the place was disturbed as we approached the Round Stone Barn.  Such a cacophony was arising from the place, we were left to wonder whether something violent was going on inside. To our relief, it was simply feeding time, and an adorable tribe of piglets were carrying on like ill-behaved children, as if making all that commotion would enable their caregiver to move more swiftly in preparing their grub. 

Despite the squealing, who could resist this face?

As the barn worker continued to quickly move about the place, doling out the food, the barn began to quiet to a dull munching sound.  Peace reigned once more.

Calf at HSV

Outside the barn, the turkeys were the next to see tending.  As the barn hand entered the right side of their housing, the turkeys politely waddled their way into a line and proceeded to enter the same structure from the left – a little parade of poultry. Surely this same routine occurs each day, but the efficiency with which this particular bunch lined up, and the orderly manner in which they proceeded into their housing was impressive.  Could these be special Shaker turkeys, more inclined to pacifism and perfection than most?    

The day was winding down and we began the drive back.  We had managed to fill our time here with stops at historic places, charming villages, and amusing farm animals.  Good Yankee day.

The post A Trip to Hancock Shaker Village appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

These wedding flowers did not get tossed into the crowd.

We were fortunate to have people in our lives who volunteered their time and creativity to make our celebration unique. All of the flower arrangements were done by my longtime friend Elie, a former florist; Jim’s friend Pomie, an ad-agency art director, customized the graphics for our seating cards and displays. But perhaps the biggest contribution of time and effort came from my sister Beth, a phenomenal baker, who envisioned an elaborate dessert table in lieu of the customary cake I was dead set against having. And what a dessert table it was. She worked tirelessly, spending days upon days baking piles of cookies and pastries — enough to feed five receptions’ worth of guests. And then I wavered on my decision not to have a wedding cake.

Dessert Table

Despite all the baking she’d already done, Beth quickly came up with the perfect solution for my wedding-cake dilemma. She could’ve made a cake to rival those from a high-end bakery, but she inherently understood our desire for something different: something that reflected both our personalities and our love of Maine, where we were living at the time.

And that’s how we ended up with a beautifully crafted, one-of-a-kind, and totally nontraditional whoopie-pie wedding cake. At least that’s what it was in 2004. As it turns out, whoopie-pie wedding cakes and favors are now an emerging trend — extending beyond New England this year — expected to edge out even the cupcake craze of previous years.

A three tiered whoopie pie cake was the perfect centerpiece for our wedding.

Whether it was sparked by Maine’s debate over what to choose for the official state dessert –- blueberry pie or the whoopie — or the subsequent controversy between Maine and Pennsylvania as to where the whoopie pie originated, this is one trend that New Englanders can embrace whole-heartedly for its simplicity and style. Be advised, though: Not all whoopie pies are created equal, so you’ll definitely want to try samples before committing to a bakery. And if you can’t find one that’s worthy of your special day, I suggest trying our recipe for pumpkin whoopie pies from our brand-new cookbook, Best of New England: Homemade Favorites for Every Season.

Want more information on the origins of the whoopie pie? Read about how the whoopie pie became a classic New England dessert, then get the traditional recipe for homemade chocolate whoopie pies.

The post Whoopie Pie Cake | A New Wedding Trend? appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

It’s no secret that photography is one of my greatest passions. If it weren’t for the fact that Moore College of Art and Design, my alma mater, dumped it as a major just as I entered my junior year, I probably would have become a full time photographer (you never know really). Be that as it may, all things happen for a reason and on this day, I was back at school with Heath as my teacher.

I’m not ashamed to say that it has been a challenge and a rather large learning curve for me to attempt to master the art of digital photography having learned on an old 35 mm camera my mother leant me. It took me quite some time just to understand that a digital camera is in essence a computer version of that old 35 mm I was shooting with in college some 20 years ago. I’ve signed up for a few classes here and there over the past several years but my biggest problem is finding the time to get out there and practice, practice, practice. The passion and the eye for good composition is there, I need to nurture it, which was exactly what I intended to do on this Saturday outing.

A lot of the tips that Heath had to share were things I already knew somewhere in my subconscious. It was refreshing to have the opportunity to relearn and recite. I remember him saying “examine your dish and put your focus on the exact bite you would want to take first.” That’s a great tip, I thought. I hadn’t ever really thought of it quite like that, but of course it makes total sense. We learned about lighting, metering, and cropping—more of the technical side of things so that we might be as skilled as Heath with our cameras. It was a full day and loads of fun. I enjoyed the challenge and came away with a new found respect for food stylists, prop stylists and photographers.

In October, the second edition of Best of New England Recipes: Homemade Favorites for Every Season will be available on newsstands. Back sometime in June, we set out to create another stunning issue in what would now be a series of bookazine’s for Yankee Magazine. Food Editor Amy Traverso hand-picked some 150+ recipes from our collection of past issues to feature in this book. Pulling together the team of Catrine Kelty; food stylist, Kelly McGuill; prop stylist, and Heath Robbins; photographer, we set out to create the most mouthwatering images we could. Trying to figure out a way to unify the book visually, I decided to base our visual inspiration on antique white Ironstone. The entire book would be propped and styled in shades of white, beige and creams, having the food be basically the only color on the page which would allow each of the seasons freshest ingredients to really pop.

Here are a few of my photographs from the four days we spent shooting.

Antique white Ironstone was our inspiration. Both Kelly and Catrine have a huge collection.

This is a shot of Catrine's tools. Much like a painter, she uses her brushes in a variety of ways, most often to apply the final touches to the food like adding oil or vinaigrette to make the food look freshly dressed and appetizing. Catrine refers to it as "painting the foods." The tool she most often uses is her tweezers for fine tuning the set.

This was our recipe for the mini apple pies with cranberry. Their turn in front of the camera was just moments away.

The mini apple pies with cranberry make their way on set. Catrine is perfecting the pies with her tweezers.

Catrine and Heath are taking a first look at their shot and discussing necessary adjustments.

Once Kelly has set up the props, Catrine has applied the food to the set, Heath has framed his shot and adjusted the lighting, they call me over for approval. Catrine applies the final touches like the syrup here on the pancakes. Syrups and other sauces are often applied at the last second before final frames are taken so as to capture them fresh and in the moment. The photographer may opt to put his camera settings on rapid shoot so they can capture frame by frame in seconds as the food stylist is applying the syrups and/or sauces. We can then go back and select the frame that is most attractive.

This is Heath and his baby. By baby I mean his old Hasselblad that he's been shooting with for years.

Each time we produce a large book like this, we learn something new. It’s a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of stress. But after all was said and done and the final product hit the inner office mailboxes here at Yankee, we got a lot of positive feedback from our colleagues and peers. Such a nice feeling. I can only hope our readers will love it just as much. As for me and my continuing education in the world of photography, I will enjoy taking photos of my beautiful 10 month old son Emmett and leave the professional work to the real pros. Thanks again Catrine, Kelly and Heath for your unbelievable talent and hard work.

The post Food Photography: Edible Exposure appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

To mark the anniversary of Irene, Yankee is featuring the stories of some of the Vermonters affected by the storm. Theirs are stories of hardship, survival, and hope.

 Susan Haughwout | The Town Clerk

Susan Haughwout

Of  the many unsung heroes to surface during and after Tropical Storm Irene, town clerks played one of the most crucial roles in the recovery work. Perhaps no more so than Susan Haughwout, Wilmington, Vermont’s longtime town clerk who, with several other volunteers, raced to the Town Hall to save the town’s records from the floods that would end up devastating so much of the downtown.

For nearly two hours, in the midst of heavy rains and rising river waters, the crew schlepped documents from the town hall’s first floor vault to the building’s second floor, piling up office chairs with boxes and then rolling them on to an elevator. Not everything was saved of course, but by her own estimate, Haughwout, who was forced to abandon her car and escape to safety, along with her group saved some 95 percent of the town’s records.

“All I did was worry,” Haughwout says of the work. “And for once my worrying paid off because I knew something had to be done and I made the decision to go get it done. I called a bunch of people to help me. If they hadn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened.” And the consequences for that, she says, would have been detrimental to the town. “The buying and selling and financing of real estate would have come to a halt. If you can’t provide title, you can’t do business. You gotta have it. These are critical documents for the economy of any Vermont town.”

For more of Haughwout’s story in her own words, click on the link below.

[haiku url='http://blogs.yankeemagazine.com/behind-scenes-magazine/files/2011/12/Haughwout.mp3' title="Title of audio file"]

George & Jan Knowles | The Volunteers

                                                                      George and Jan Knowles

One of the more heartwarming stories to emerge from the days and weeks that followed Tropical Storm Irene was the number of people who volunteered their time to help communities regain their footing. Some came from out of state, many others from neighboring towns.

George and Jan Knowles were part of the contingent. The retired South Newfane residents spent their first few days helping out neighbors before making their way to nearby Wilmington, one of the state’s hardest hit towns. The bulk of their hours were spent helping out Al and Suzanne Wurzberger, two longtime downtown business owners, who operate the 1836 Country Store as well as Norton House, a popular quilt shop. “They had a sign out asking for volunteers,” said George. “So we popped in and just asked, ‘What can we do?’

To hear more of their story, click on the link below.

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Florence Craft | The Homeowner

Florence Craft in the living room of her Wilmington, Vermont, home, which was severely damaged by Tropical Storm Irene. In her hands, the 76-year-old widow clutches one of the few cherished items she was able to salvage: a wooden box given to her as a child by a beloved teacher.

“I didn’t know it would be this bad,” Florence Craft says, stepping around the piles of personal items that consume much of her living room floor. Six weeks had passed since Irene had hit, and the 76-year-old widow had hardly scratched the surface on the work to get her life back. She was wearing clothes given to her by strangers, living with a friend in nearby Wardsboro, and wondering how or when she’d be able to move back into the only home she’s known for the last 55 years.

In November 1956 she and her husband, George, were just two weeks married at the time, when they moved into this 19th century Cape and started fixing the old place up. The work was considerable. For nearly 30 years the house, which sits just off Route 100 in Wilmington had largely sat untouched after an earlier natural disaster, the flood of 1927, had nearly taken it down. When the Crafts scooped it up, the property had no electricity, no running water, just a lot of potential. Together they refinished rooms, put on an addition, and made it the kind of cozy family home that would welcome three children, and later a growing lineup of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.   Even after George’s passing in June 2004, Florence never entertained the thought of moving elsewhere.

Then came Tropical Storm Irene. After vacating her house the morning of the storm, Craft returned to a home that had withstood 35 inches of water. She didn’t have flood insurance and if she does move back in, it won’t be until spring, at the earliest. In mid-October, when I visited, Craft’s days were consumed with cleaning up a lifetime of memories.

“It’s quite a project,” she said softly. “I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

To hear more about Craft and what she’s contending with, click on the link below.

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Henry Wheeler | The Farmer

                                                                                    Henry Wheeler

Henry Wheeler was only five when the Hurricane of ’38 rolled through New England and flooded communities, including his own hometown of Wilmington, Vermont. But the memories from that storm still resonate with him. The Wheeler farm–a dairy and maple sugaring operation set on 350 acres along Route 100–managed to survive ’38, thanks in part to a community of farmers who pitched in and helped Henry’s father get his farm back up and running. It was much the same following Tropical Storm Irene, with farmers again banding together to help the Wheelers repair roads and fences, and help ensure that Wheeler farm, now largely run by Henry’s two sons, Rob and John, could quickly overcome the damages and get back to the real work at hand.

“It was pretty awesome,” says Wheeler.

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Richard Champine | The Survivor

I first met Richard Champine two weeks after Irene had rolled through. Not surprisingly he was still figuring out how to pick up the pieces of his life. His home of 14 years, a small apartment above a gas station in Killington at the junction of routes 4 and 100, was destroyed by the fast moving river waters that flooded the area. So severe was the damage that Champine and his son, Richard Jr., abandoned the home at the height of the storm and spent the next 21 hours atop a car that was parked in front of the building. Two weeks after Irene, Richard was living temporarily at the neighboring Cedarbrook Motor Inn, where he works as a handyman. As he waited for an insurance adjuster to assess the property, he told me about his life during the storm and his escape. To hear Richard tell his story,  click on the link below.

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Charlie Shackleton | The Furniture Maker

When Irene hit, it hit the business hard, flooding Thomas’ pottery studio, and filling the mill’s basement with more than eight-feet of water before receding and leaving a wasteland of mud and silt. While the building’s upstairs shop rooms and store were saved, much of Shackleton’s lumber was ruined, as were a number of machines. Cost of the damage clocked in at well over six figures, with only a portion of it covered by flood insurance. Still, when we visited the Irish-born Shackleton in mid September, he seemed optimistic about his business’ ability to get back on its feet. Which it has. By late September, ShackletonThomas had reopened for business.

In the year since Tropical Storm Irene barreled through New England, Vermont continues to recover. The storm claimed lives and homes.  Businesses, too. And in certain sections of the state, entire towns were cut off for days from assistance. But Vermont and Vermonters are resilient. Communities quickly banded together and today the state is back on its feet.

To mark the anniversary of Irene, Yankee is featuring the stories of some of the Vermonters affected by the storm. Theirs are stories of hardship, survival, and hope.

The post Voices From the Flood appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Occasionally, I come across a tip that doesn’t seem as though it could possibly work—so I feel compelled to test it, which is how I ended up cleaning silver using the electrolytic method described in Yankee Magazine’s book Make it Last.

Make it Last by Earl Proulx and The Editors of Yankee Magazine

The instructions were quite simple, really, with only four ingredients.

Ingredients for Homemade Silver Cleaner:

• 1 quart of hot water
• 1 tablespoon of baking soda
• 1 sheet of aluminum foil
• non-aluminum dish

This method requires four household staples.

Instructions for Using Homemade Silver Cleaner:

• Line bottom of non-aluminum dish with a sheet of aluminum foil
• Mix 1 tablespoon of baking soda into a quart of hot water
• Soak for a half hour — time may vary depending on degree of tarnish
• Buff with clean, dry cloth

I initially tested it out on some silver jewelry that had gotten lightly tarnished while I was on vacation. Lo and behold, it worked! With one success under my belt, I went in search of the most tarnished spoon I could find that didn’t have a raised design and tried the process again. (NOTE: Earl did not recommend using this on silver that had a raised design, as you may lose the dark accents that have built up over time, or using it on cemented pieces, as the soaking process could loosen the cement.)

The subject: A heavily tarnishsed spoon.

This time I heated the water in the microwave for two minutes, rather than relying on the temperature that the tap yielded, and let it soak for a half hour.

The process: Soak tarnished silver in a water/baking-soda bath.

The spoon emerged from its water/baking soda bath in sparkling condition.

The result: A spoon free of tarnish

I love this method of cleaning silver. It’s super-easy, uses common household staples, and, most important, doesn’t require gloves or messy chemicals.

Read more of Earl’s dos and don’ts of polishing silver and other household tasks at: YankeeMagazine.com/home

The post Earl Proulx’s Recipe for Homemade Silver Cleaner appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

This year, however, each of our twelve plants was a success. By late August my wife and I were hauling in pounds and pounds of fruit. We ate a few tomatoes immediately, but much of the bounty sat in baskets or in bags. Our future was obvious: We were going to have to can.

It was new territory for me. Scary territory. Could I do this without giving my family food poisoning, I wondered. Perhaps. I sent out a call to my colleagues here at Yankee, begging, pleading for any extra equipment and a little sage advice. A few minutes later I got a response from Lucille up in production who did indeed have an extra pot and some instructions. A few days later, as Hurricane Irene prepared to barrel into New England, my wife and I fired up the stove and began making what we hope isn’t a batch of botulism come January.

Just one of many hauls from our garden. It’s a small counter to be sure, but still a pretty impressive harvest.

Here, I cut out the stems and then cut a slit down the side of each tomato. I wasn’t all that fast at it, as my wife liked to remind me.

My next course of action was to blanch the tomatoes so I could easily remove their skins. I’d prefer not to mention how many times I dropped a tomato into the boiling water and then had said water splash on me. It hurt. I’m a wimp.

 I was suprised: The skins did come off very easily. (Those hands belong to my wife, who, not suprisingly, wasn’t all that thrilled when I brought out the camera for this project.)

I started to work the food mill, until I was “fired” by my wife. Again, I think I wasn’t going fast enough. It’s a brutal business, this canning stuff.

Let there be sauce! I know a picture is a worth a thousands words and all, but no photo can capture the yelling my suddenly awake ten-month old son, Calvin, was making when this picture was taken. Really. He was loud.

Fast-forward 20 minutes. After a fairly unsucessful round of consoling, I brought Calvin downstairs to watch us can. Um, he wasn’t all that impressed.

 While Calvin slept, we worked on, washing out the jars and lids, putting them in a hot bath of water, and then finally, filling them up with sauce. Only a little bit made it on the counter, something I chalk up as a major accomplishment.

Finished! (Sort of.) After stirring in two tablespoons of lemon juice and then processing the six quarts of sauce in a boiling bath of water for some 50 minutes, I was ready to call it a night. The real test will come this winter, of course, but the finished product, I think, least looks great.

The post The First Time Canner appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Not the Dublin Town Green.

Our office has a simple horseshoe parking lot that runs the length of our building.  Between the two branches is a narrow patch of grass—no more than fifteen paces wide—that is home to a small tree, some flowers, and a sign.  There is no statue commemorating the valiant Union dead.  There’s no gazebo or bandstand and there’s hardly enough room to get yourself into a run before bumping into one of the parked cars.  There is no reason, save for the shape, to believe that our meager lawn is a public park.

And yet they come.

Some only come for a stroll, maybe as part of their daily walk or as a shortcut from the Dublin School down to the library.  Others stick around for a while.  I’ll often see a couple of kids playing in the median while their mothers watch, leaning on the side of their car, waiting for God knows what.  I once caught a group of kids filming a skateboard video out there, and this summer we had a running feud with a couple of Frisbee players whose aim was sadly lacking.

“Meet me at Yankee” has become an all too common phrase in the Monadnock region.  Need a place to load up a bus for a school trip?  Meet me at Yankee.  Want to consolidate cars before heading into town with friends?  Meet me at Yankee.  Need overflow parking for your event?  Meet me at Yankee!

Our parking lot is the living, beating heart of Dublin.  It’s a town hall, recreation center, and singles’ club all rolled up in one.  It’s also (when not too busy) where I park.

What baffles me the most about this phenomenon is that there are literally a dozen other places within a mile that are better suited for all of these activities.  No more than 100 yards away on the other side of the street, there is a municipal parking lot that, unlike ours, is never full.  I should know.  I’m forced to park there every year when the church next door has its annual rummage sale.  Right next to that lot is a ball field that was specifically designed for children to play on.  Its only flaw seems to be that it isn’t shaped like a rectangle.

Please play here. It's not a parking lot.

More puzzling than that is the fact that at the end of our parking lot—no more than a twenty second stroll from “the green”—is a wide-open, mowed field, complete with picnic benches and a little garden surrounded by a white picket fence.  We really wouldn’t mind people playing there, and yet they don’t.  It’s perpetually empty, like some plague swept through, forcing the survivors south into our parking lot where they now huddle with their Frisbees and their complete lack of regard for oncoming traffic.

What is it about our parking lot that draws people in like moths to the flame?  Is it simply the familiar shape and its central location in town?  Or is it something more nefarious?  I for one have settled upon witchcraft.  It’s the only explanation that makes sense.  Some foul entity has taken residence there and draws in unwitting travelers with its subconscious siren song.  Maybe it’s a ghost or maybe a demon.  Maybe it’s the combined ill will of our readers from when we changed the size of the magazine become manifest.  Whatever it is, we can do little to stop it.  Some people have suggested we put up signs to turn people away, but I doubt anything short of an exorcism will work.

Get out of my way! I want to go home!

The post Darn Kids, Get Off My Lawn! appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

It may be heresy for me — as one who lives in the region that hosts this yearly extravaganza — to proclaim this, but I’m not a fan of fireworks. They make me anxious. To be fair, I should also reveal that the list of things that cause me angst is long and varied: balloons, clowns, gas grills, and an untidy desk, for example. So, though the Festival has its fans, there are others, like me, who welcome it simply for the thousands of people who are drawn to the area because of it.

Indeed, “Fireworks Day” has become “Yard Sale Day” in the town of Jaffrey. The United Church hosts its annual flea market, and several residences also take advantage of the weekend crowds to clear out all that good stuff that no one’s using but is just too nice to toss. For many, the joy of the yard sale isn’t in earning a few extra bucks, but rather, the extra shelf and closet space. One woman even had a table of “freebies.” She did tell me, though, that when some shoppers realized that the items they were examining were free, they put them back! This happened several times over. Perhaps “free” is just too easy for those seeking the thrill of negotiation.

Whether you want to take in the thrill of thunderous fireworks or the quieter delight of shopping for bargains, mark your calendar to be in Jaffrey next August.

The post Of Fireworks and Yard Sales appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Ethan Daniels

In 2004, Daniels returned to the United States and to his childhood waters off Cape Cod.  With his now trained eye, he saw these familiar ecosystems in a new light.  He began documenting all of the regions aquatic habitats, from kettle ponds to the depths off Chatham, and found in them a beauty that few stop to appreciate.  His book Under Cape Cod Waters (see slideshow below) is a thoughtful and intriguing portrait of the life that thrives in our chilly and often harsh waters.

We caught up with Daniels before a book signing at the Boston Public Library and asked him to share some of the secrets of underwater photography, a discipline many of us dream about, but few get the chance to try.

Lighting

How do you light a shot underwater?  Daniels says that the waters of Cape Cod are the hardest he has ever worked in due to their murkiness.  Click the link below to hear some of his tips for bringing light into the dark depths of the ocean.

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Approaching Subjects

If you think keeping your children still long enough to take a photo of them is difficult, try capturing organisms that are genetically trained to believe that you might be trying to eat them!  Click the link below to hear how Daniels overcomes his subjects’ natural skittishness and gets close enough to take their portraits.

[haiku url="http://blogs.yankeemagazine.com/behind-scenes-magazine/files/2011/08/ED-Approaching-Subjects.mp3" title="ED Approaching Subjects"]

Framing a Shot

What makes a good underwater photograph?  With unwilling subjects, difficult lighting, and (most importantly!) a limited air supply, how do you bring your elements together into a compelling scene?  Click the link below to hear what Daniels looks for in a good shot.

[haiku url="http://blogs.yankeemagazine.com/behind-scenes-magazine/files/2011/08/ED-Framing-Shots.mp3" title="ED Framing Shots"]

Coming Home

Daniels could shoot in any of the bright, warm, and tropical bodies of water he likes.  Why come back to the cold waters of Cape Cod, an area often ignored by his peers?  Click the link below to hear why Daniels has invested so much time on this project.

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[portfolio_slideshow id=503]

To purchase a copy of Daniels’ book, please follow this link.

The post Ethan Daniels, Underwater Photographer appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

We loaded the car and headed for Maine

The first few days, when Brewski spent time at what we affectionately refer to as “Uncle Brian’s boot camp,” were filled with all the things that are not quite dog-friendly. Our first stop was down to Kennebunkport to find out if the lobster rolls at the Clam Shack live up to their reputation and should be added to my favorite Maine lobster roll list.

Fried Clams at the Clam Shack in Kennebunkport

I double-clutched on my order and walked away with a steaming box of fried clams, but Jim tried the roll and confirmed that it is indeed excellent. Fully sated, we got back on the road and drove on to the cottage on Annabessacook Lake in Monmouth, Maine, that would be our vacation home for the next fourteen days.

Simple Craftsman-style cottage on Annabessacook Lake.

We filled the beginning of our week with biking and kayaking – not always in the most favorable conditions – and even took a nostalgic trip back to summer camp. We poked around quaint coastal towns, and when we spent a day in Boothbay Harbor, we couldn’t resist making a not-so-quick stop at Red’s Eats in Wiscasset to sample their most famous menu item.

The lobster rolls at Red's Eats are like a lazy man's lobster on a bun.

Another candidate for my list? Possibly, although it doesn’t seem fair to lump their lobster roll into the same category as the others you find all over the coast of Maine. If anything, it has more in common with a lazy man’s lobster, as it comes served with drawn butter and yields more than a full lobster’s worth of meat. Label it how you will, it’s absolutely delicious.

Once we welcomed Brewski back to the fold, our days of field trips were over, and that was just fine with us. The pace slowed as we turned our attention to lakeshore activities. Friends rotated in and out and our evenings were filled with the traditional summer activities of the lake – sunsets viewed from the dock, toasted marshmallows, and lively rounds of card games.

The sun sets on Annabessacook lake.

For his part, Brewski, who’s not a big fan of riding on the water in a kayak, swam. And swam. And swam. Practically a summertime tradition at the lake himself, he kept the neighbors entertained with his dock-diving antics. No need to attend a DockDogs competition when Brewski’s there to perform in your own backyard, or front dock as the case may be.

Brewski doesn't need any encouragement to join in the fun.

Weather in New England can be fickle, but the weather for our Maine summer vacation was better than we could have hoped for, with only one day of outdoor activity interrupted by a severe thunderstorm. As hail pounded down on the roof, we settled in with our books to wait it out. By the time the gentle patter of the rain signaled the storm was moving, we had eased into a full day of lounging.

The rain only kept us inside for one day.

Like all wonderful vacations, we were unprepared when this one came to an end. And while reentry back into the real world has been a tad bumpy, the memories we made on our luxurious two-week Maine summer vacation will have to get me through until we do it all again next year.

The post Maine Summer Vacation appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

Entrance to the YMCA Camp in Winthrop, Maine

I picked up the phone to call the YMCA Camp of Maine in Winthrop to ask if I could drop by for a visit, and the staff was kind enough to agree.

As my husband Jim and I rolled down the dirt road that would lead us to the heart of Y camp early Monday morning, half forgotten memories that had taken place on the very ground we were traveling over began to resurface. Here I was returning to the place where I had learned to swim, sail, throw pottery, and, perhaps most memorable of all, curse in French. And then the questions started: Would Y camp look the same viewed through the eyes of an adult, and would I feel the kind of connection described by Little Wohelo alumni? How does this generation of campers, raised in an electronic age, react to goofy songs about fleas and old farmers? Would the moose be there to silently greet me when I entered the dining hall as he had countless times back in the 80’s? And what about camp food – did it still taste like, well, camp food? With camera in tow, we went in search of the answers.

Executive director Barry Costa and arts & crafts director Ruth Eastman were on hand to lead us through the morning festivities: to the chapel for the daily message; the waterfront for the raising of the flag and a bit of song and dance;

Songs are performed after the raising of the flag.

the dining hall for breakfast, where we learned the food had come a long way from the fare they were serving the summer that I lived on peanut butter and honey sandwiches; and then off for a quick tour around the campus before sending us out to trail after campers engrossed in what they would surely one day remember as life-enriching activities.

We followed campers as they learned to identify edible plants in the woods.

Amid the activity buzzing around us, I had a chance to chat with Barry about the evolution of the camp. I was curious about how it was possible for the buildings and grounds to appear as though frozen in time, which, it turns out, is by design. Structural work and improvements had been painstakingly disguised in an effort to maintain the familiar, nostalgic feel of the camp setting.

The Dining Hall appears untouched by time.

Perhaps it’s that familiarity that beckons former campers to reconnect with Y camp by enrolling their own children as campers, joining the board, and attending alumni events. Former camper and counselor turned board member, Newell Augur, told me that he was compelled to get involved because of the formative moments he’d enjoyed there and the values they’d instilled in him – responsibility, independence and the importance of interpersonal relations – and felt it was important that future generations of children be afforded that same opportunity.

The boys village is nestled in the woods.

Values are still a high priority at Y camp, and more noticeable than any physical changes, was the way in which staff and counselors alike interacted with their charges. Gone were the days that Barry referred to as the “competition era” when fierce Abenaki/ Penobscot tribe rivalry was used to coerce campers into behaving.

The Abenaki/Penobscot rivalry scoreboard sits unused in the dining hall.

Now all that’s required to gain the attention of boisterous children is an outstretched hand formed in the sign of the buffalo (thumb and pinky finger pointed upward and other three fingers closed), and the chatter stops immediately.

The sign of the buffalo quiets rowdy campers.

Behavioral strategies aside, very little had changed in the time since I had last roamed the trails of Y Camp. Swimming, boating, arts & crafts, and basketball are all as popular today as they were 20 years ago.

Campers head out in kayaks for some fun on the water.

The songs were new and unfamiliar, but they were sung with as much enthusiasm as they had ever been. The faces have all changed, but the spirit remains the same, and kids still embrace this time-honored rite of passage with wild abandon. And while the sign of the buffalo is enjoying its heyday, the moose remains a fixture that will live on in the collective memory of children and adults alike.

The Moose still resides over the dining hall fireplace and had gone Hollywood the day we were there.

As we said our goodbyes and made our way back to the car with the sound of children’s laughter ringing in our ears, I felt that old familiar tug. This was the still the camp I so loved in my younger years, and though not twelve anymore, it was comforting to be able to return if only for a brief visit.

See more photos from my return to summer camp.

For more info on YMCA Camp of Maine, visit www.maineycamp.org/

The post Return to Summer Camp appeared first on Yankee Magazine.

I met Elizabeth Gilbert at the Music Hall’s “Writers on a New England Stage” series in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, while she came through town to promote the softcover release of the book, Committed, which “followed up where Eat, Pray, Love left off.” The latter book was the reason I wanted her to be my new best friend. (Listen to her interview from my evening at The Music Hall and you will want to be her new best friend too.) I loved Eat, Pray, Love, though I was not at all committed to Committed. I had bought the hardcover of it; however, after realizing this was not the book for me, I sold it back to the local bookstore where I got a small credit to buy another book.

The only thing I had for her to sign was an old softcover copy of Eat, Pray, Love. Of course, she had already signed that book  five years ago, after my friend decided it would be the perfect birthday gift. (She was right, since at that point I had only listened to the audio version.)

Without Committed in hand, I thought it would be “fun” for my soon-to-be new best friend to sign the book she had already signed once, again. Unfortunately, about an hour before I met my idol, I had  spilled an entire bottle of water on it. So, not only did I ask Elizabeth Gilbert to sign an old paperback copy of a book she was no longer promoting—that she had already signed once—it was also sopping wet.

Due to the aforementioned circumstances, I did not have the courage to ask her if she would be my new best friend while she signed my soggy book for the second time.

If you haven’t guessed, the author I referenced next is David Sedaris. If he would only ask me to be his assistant, then my circuitous career path would finally make perfect sense—or at least my double major in English and French in college and my penchant for hilarious, smart, writers would finally translate to employment and my avocation would become my vocation—every liberally educated person’s dream!

I was so excited to meet David and ask him if I could be his assistant (which would entail me having to be the first person to read everything he writes) that I decided to wear my new pretty dress.

Wouldn’t you know, the first thing he said when I met him was, “I just love your dress.” To which I replied, “It matches your scarf.” To which he replied, “Oh yes, I recommend a pocket scarf to any man who wants to set himself apart from the crowd.”

(As an aside, as part of my employment as David Sedaris’ assistant, he would also apprentice me on the fine art of dialogue.)

Then he asked if I had ever been to China. I’d been to Taiwan, so I told him that and also mentioned that my given Mandarin Chinese name is “Wei Hei.” One of the first stories he had read that evening was about his trip to China where he said he noticed it was commonplace for people to hack loogies in public (inside at restaurants even!) . During that story, he also talked about how he had a tough time settling on his Chinese name, which is why I mentioned that I had one. We bantered a bit more. Yes,  I was “bantering” with David Sedaris. And after all that bantering I never had the chance to mention that I would be available to move to France to be his assistant. But, he did sign my book.

Since I sometimes launch into stories, as I was waiting for Christine Chitnis, author of Markets of New England and one of our newest contributing editors for Yankee Magazine, to inscribe her book to me, I told her about meeting Elizabeth Gilbert and David Sedaris. Christine wasn’t sure what to write initially, but after my elaborate tale  of my writerly encounters, she came up with this, which says, “To my new best friend”:

And to all the writers who have or will grace my books with their signatures, I say this:

The post My Life as a Writer Groupie appeared first on Yankee Magazine.