Summer of Summer: wait, summer comes with bugs?

One of my favorite sights - Overlook Mountain from the Saugerties exit off 87

In a stroke of dumb luck, our favorite cottage in Saugerties was unclaimed for the Memorial Day weekend, so that is where we headed. Saturday we had mostly crummy weather, and I drowned two spiders in the shower stall and picked up a tick just by sitting on a bench in the back yard. It's been so long since my grassy childhood that I had forgotten what total assholes ticks are. They serve absolutely no purpose other than to feast on blood and be disgusting. Seriously, screw the little bastards.

On Sunday, we broke out the hiking boots we got for Argentina, and headed for Catskill Park, and the North Mountain hike. Allen had printed out a highly detailed trail guide, which explained to us that the beginning of the trail would have some rocks and water, but that it would improve after that. "After that" turned out to be at approximately the 46% point, because this trail followed a creek bed, which was sometimes more dry and sometimes very much less dry, the entire way. We squelched through mud and clambered over rocks like loudly complaining mountain goats. But still, this was our reward:

That teeny blue ribbon on the left is the Hudson.

The top of Ashley Falls

On Monday, we rested. Or, we meant to. And then poor Allen stepped barefoot on a wasp while setting out our breakfast dishes inside the cottage, which again brought back long-buried childhood memories of needle-like pain and itchy swelling and baking soda plasters. And what I realized is, I romanticize the country, but that's because I've mostly forgotten how god damn BUGGY it is. Shower spiders, lawn ticks, floor-dwelling indoor wasps... and that's not even mentioning the mosquitoes. After breakfast, we parked ourselves on the shady deck with book (me), laptop (him), and beer, and remained blissfully unmolested the rest of the day.

Yes, his T-shirt says "The Lannisters" on it.

My read was Emily Giffin's newest, THE ONE AND ONLY. Texas, football, and divided loyalty under one gorgeous cover... what's not to love?

Your tune: vintage 80's Journey, thematic to the book and intended by God to be blasted at ruthless volume on sun-soaked pool decks: "Girl Can't Help It." Follow your heart, gang. Steve Perry would never lead you astray.

Ms. Autumn Woman flees the city once more to frolic amongst the leaves.

This #selfie is a #failie. I don't care, I love it.

This year I was lucky enough to manage to squeeze not one but TWOOOOO October weekends up in the Catskills: one with my husband, and one with my girlfriends. Our girls' weekends are always heavy on cooking (it helps when one of your friends is a professional chef) and card games and general nerdery, and this one was no exception. We rented a beautiful little farmhouse in West Hurley, and went for rambles around town and took a spectacular late afternoon cruise on the Hudson.

I'm not somebody who enjoys the bone-rattling chill of winter, but I love the way that fall weather is cold - enough to make you want to burrow into your favorite wooly sweater, but you know the whole time that you'll warm up as soon as you step inside. And if you can walk around with a cup of hot cider to keep your hands warm, all the better. And yes, I absolutely recognize that my affinity for all of the special rituals of fall makes me Ms. Autumn Woman. At least I own it. ;)

Ritual and memory and stained-glass leaves.

It's a known fact among my family and friends that I can be counted upon to repeat myself. I am a creature of ritual, most especially when it comes to family gatherings... the mystery of the new is often overshadowed by the comfort of the familiar.

One of my very favorite traditions is the annual fall Woodstock weekend that my husband and I spend with his brother and sister-in-law. The first year was actually a late summer gathering, but I, mountain-bred girl that I am, needed a fall weekend with time spent among hills patchworked with gold and green and orange, and the rush of wind in glowing leaves over my head. So I co-opted the weekend from August to October. Two years ago, the weekend took place days after we got engaged; last year, it was the weekend of our wedding. This time (our fifth year) was our first anniversary.

Every year we do the same activities (flea market, apple picking) and visit the same restaurants, and that process of layering year after year of similar memories on top of one another is just the most magical thing. "Was it the wedding house or the mountain view house that had the crazy staircase?" "Do you remember when we were packing up after the wedding weekend and there was that insane ladybug swarm?" And of course, "What year was it that Bethany got baked for the first time?" (Some day I will tell you guys that story.)

So this year we did old things and new things, both of them equally precious. New layers of memory were added to the pile: the morning hour I spent alone on the balcony at the house, listening to the wind in the golden trees; the sweetness of the port that the owner of our wedding venue gave us with our anniversary dinner. The fire we built and proudly maintained until four o'clock in the morning.

If you really want to feel the mood, click this link and listen to the most exquisite country-folk harmony ever recorded by a pair of Swedish girls: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PC57z-oDPLs

This was our fireside, where we sat up late listening to music and laughing and telling stories:

And then we woke up the next morning in our little mountain house to these leaves: 

And then went for a ramble around town:

Woodstock Flea Market

My dream house, on Rock City Road 

 And then slowly drove home the next day, stopping for apples and donuts and whiskey and wine.

Dressel Farms

this year's haul

Tuthilltown Distillery

Brotherhood Winery

It was a perfect, magical weekend, the way each of them has been. And as soon as the vibrancy of the leaves fades from my eyes, I will be looking forward to the next year.

Summer's Last Hurrah: Woodstock and Saugerties

I honestly can't believe it took me as long as it did. I'm a country girl, I grew up in the mountains, and yet somehow I didn't make it to the Catskills region, or the middle Hudson Valley just to the east of it, until 2008. But that, as they say, was that. I'm hooked. I'm in love. For life. Everybody else in NYC can have their Hamptons, and their Jersey Shore; I will head for the hills.

So that is where my husband and I headed, for what turned out to be a depressingly damp weekend. But a fun weekend nonetheless. Largely because our priorities, as usual, revolved around food and drink. Our first stop upon arriving Friday night was dinner at Cucina - a new spot for us, and a delicious one. We had a lovely summery dinner on the wide front porch - delightful.

Photo via Cucina Woodstock

On Saturday morning, our destination was clear: Love Bites. Love Bites, in the impossibly quaint-yet-hip riverside town of Saugerties, is one of the most delicious breakfast spots I've ever visited. Phenomenal coffee, delicious house-made sausage, bacon so flavorful you stop chewing for a moment just so you can savor the taste in your mouth. Heavenly. Here is my husband doing the ritual drink photo at Love Bites (maybe one day I will explain about our ritual drink photos):

 Then followed our usual ramble along the sleepy main drag of Saugerties, Partition Street. We bought wine and cider at the Partition Street Wine Shop:

And ogled midcentury furniture and housewares that we cannot afford at Green:

Fun bonus: online home decor mecca One Kings Lane featured my photo above, of a pile of gorgeous vintage Navajo rugs at Green, in their #FeelingFall Instagram campaign. I have been spamming them for days. And I'm obsessed with fall, so I've got lots more where that came from. Sorry, guys.

We rambled over to the Saugerties Farmers Market, where we made a new friend:

And we picked up a copy of the local arts & culture magazine, Chronogram. We are bemused yet obsessed by this cover artwork. The artist discusses her inspiration and process here, and I implore you to read the article. Internet cat memes were one of her major influences. Related: god, I love Woodstock. 

Cosmic Chrono Cat, by artist Becky Todd

Sunday, we kayaked! We rented a couple of kayaks and some matching oars and we paddled down the little inlet of the Esopus Creek and out into the Hudson. 

My husband wanted to cross to the east side of the river, and about halfway across, it hit us that we were bobbing in two tiny plastic shells right bang in the middle of the mighty Hudson - it was both awesome and slightly scary. We crossed, we crossed back, we tooled around a little, and then we took a look at the stormclouds massing over the horizon behind the Saugerties Lighthouse, and we decided it might not be our worst decision of the day to head home.

photos via the Saugerties Lighthouse

And then, it rained. And it rained and it rained and it rained. In between rainstorms we made it out to dinner at the Bear Cafe, forever sacred as our wedding spot, and then it rained some more.

 

Monday, I asked to take a drive up along the bottom of Overlook Mountain even though it looked like this, and sure enough the skies opened up again in full force:

So we gave up and came home. An anticlimactic ending to our lovely weekend. The only reason I wasn't more bummed: we're heading back next month. :)

Well, so this happened.

The best damn wedding in the Hudson Valley. Donuts were eaten, karaoke was sung, the party was thoroughly, thoroughly partied. My dress was pink and puffy, and I felt like a hipster Scarlett O'Hara descending the winding staircase at the venue, holding my billowing skirts out of my way so I wouldn't pitch face-first onto the floor and ruin all that hard work on my makeup. We walked in to "Love and Happiness" and walked out to "Signed, Sealed Delivered" and it was the biggest blast I've ever had in my life. Too bad I only get to do it once.