Today is the the day after Thanksgiving. It’s 1pm and I’m just regaining my appetite after all the turkey and pumpkin pie. I’m sitting in a coffee shop across from my apartment, using the cold weather and warm coffee as a mood-setter to write this post. I have more nature photos for you. On a brisk Sunday afternoon in October I took a train to Cold Spring – a small town less than 2 hours north of Manhattan. When Yulia and I hopped off the train at Cold Spring station, we had stepped out onto a little town that seemed to roll down the hill and fold back on itself as it reached the cul-de-sac by the train aside the Hudson River. Antique stores and pubs lined the ascending hill along the main strip. Streets branching off either side stocked little pastel houses and fiery autumn trees. We meandered through the streets, eventually finding the nature trails across the tracks which carried us into the hills. We had backpacks of snacks, and cameras on deck.
When Yulia and I are together with our cameras, it can take us a good hour to walk 10 feet, particularly in a place as charming and photogenic as Cold Spring.
To say this is to deliver a literary super-cliché – but the sound of silence was deafening. Both Yulia and I live in Manhattan, so stepping out into a small town on the Hudson was cleansing to our ears. The air is crisp, the cars whip past sending leaves into a momentary flurry, the side streets are dead quiet, and sometimes a cat darts across a driveway and disappears under the branches of a maple tree. Golden leaves crunch under our boots.
By the time we had climbed to the top of the mountain, the sun had started to disappear over the other side of the river. The sky lit up electric pink. We hurried back down the trail to the quiet town buried in the trees bellow. We made it to the station just shy of the train back to New York. We sat on the bench under the lamp at the empty station, shivering in the cold air. An hour later the train finally arrived, and it was so nice to sit down in the warm carriage, gazing out the window only to see our reflections gazing back from the darkness outside.
I’m looking forward to my next trip out to Cold Spring. It was exactly what I needed. New York is the city you sometimes can’t wait to get out of, but you always look forward to going back to.