When my cousins and I were little, our grandpa or one of our parents would shuttle us over to Great Gun, the beach at the end of Fire Island, N.Y., or to the very tip of Westhampton Beach on the other side of the Moriches Inlet. We would drop anchor in a cove on the bay side of the dunes and either stay there and wade in the water or climb the white sand dunes to the ocean side and play wiffle ball. For me, these trips always ended in third degree burns. One time I ripped the bottom of my foot open on a rusty boardwalk nail. I have nothing but good memories from these trips.
Tag Archives: Day Trips
I want to preface this entire post by saying that I grew up north of New York City, in what people would technically refer to as “upstate,” and I believe that it is one of the most beautiful places in the world. That said, I’ve spent very little time in the equally beautiful, but much less population-dense, up-upstate New York…until last weekend.
The trouble started when I read Tom Lewis’ book The Hudson. It was lent to me about two years ago, by my friend Todd, when I first moved to New York City, and I didn’t pick it up until the beginning of this month, when I had finished everything I could possibly read about the history of the British royal family. The Hudson is a beautifully written, yet short, history of the Hudson River, starting from lower Manhattan and New Jersey, all the way up to its origin at Lake Tear of the Clouds. Toward the end of the book, Lewis discusses Frederic Edwin Church’s mystical mansion, called Olana, which still stands overlooking 60 miles of the Hudson River in Hudson, N.Y. I had to go to there.
So I’ve never experienced this before, but I think it will be pretty cool.
If you’re in New York City tonight at sunset, watch as “the setting Sun aligns precisely with the Manhattan street grid, creating a radiant glow of light across Manhattan’s brick and steel canyons,” according to Hayden Planetarium. This phenomenon, known to us as Mahattanhenge, is kind of like Stonehenge in the U.K., where the “Sun rises in perfect alignment with several of the stones, signaling the change of season.” Except, you know, I’m pretty sure ours is a fluke.
On Sunday, my friends Katie, Lindsey and myself headed out to Brimfield, MA for the Brimfield Antique Show. This was my first ever antique show. However, I have been to the Swap Shop in Fort Lauderdale, FL many times, and I can safely say that Brimfield is way classier, yet, still, not very classy at all, if that’s possible.
They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and that was never more clear to me than on Sunday. While some booths contained beautiful furniture, glass fixtures, and jewelry, others were selling baby doll heads and used socks. I’m not totally sure what the exact definition of “antique” is, but I know it does not include gum wrappers or old oil cans.
No, this is not the title of my future world-famous children’s book. My friend Rebekah (referred to here as McSkillet because she’s very important and well-known), was kind enough to share her zoo-journey with me today via email pics, and I in turn, am kind enough to share them with you. Because they’re awesome. And because the Woodley Park Zoo in Washington, DC might be one of the greatest places on earth. Aside from the Zoo Bar across the street, of course.
Here’s hoping these pics can make up for the closing of my beloved Cafe International on Connecticut Ave NW. I just knew that place couldn’t stay open without my morning brew and muffin. And Phil’s cappuccino with no sugar. Seriously. This kid. Every morning.
When you haven’t been home in a while, you appreciate it more when you come back. This summer, I’ve been spending most of my weekends on Long Island, so imagine my enthusiasm to once again cross the Hudson on the Bear Mountain Bridge. Here are some pics from my bberry. Also, can’t forget the Manhattan skyline (this time from the Throgs Neck, because, don’t worry, I still made it to LI). I love New York.
In the eight years I’ve lived in Boston (off and on), I’ve done the Freedom Trail about one bigillion times. Funnily enough, I’d never finished the damn thing. In all the times that I’ve started following that red line toward the State House, past the Granary Burying Ground, toward Old City Hall and past the Old South Meeting House, I’d never once made it across the Harbor, into Charlestown and up Bunker Hill. Until this past weekend.
With my best friend Sam coming for a visit, I was determined to finish the Freedom Trail if it killed us. And it almost did. Those 300 or so steps to the top of the Bunker Hill Monument nearly did me in, and my legs are still sore (translation: I need to work out more). But sitting at the top of Bunker Hill, with the breeze blowing and the sky a bluer blue than I’ve seen in quite some time, I knew that taking a Saturday to complete the Freedom Trail was definitely worth it.