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by maribeth
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Manchester Memories: Nostalgic About Fall Foliage Trips with Mom
I grew up with five brothers and no sisters. My parents had four boys in a row, then me and many years later another boy. With this configuration, I was destined to be either a tomboy or a girly-girl. My mom was a little of both. But since she finally had her long-awaited daughter, she wanted to make sure I became as much of a little lady as possible. And what’s one of the most feminine pastimes? Most would agree that shopping and going out for lunch rank high in that category. Yes indeed, a tremendous amount of female bonding takes place over browsing the boutiques and chatting about life over a delicious lunch of quiche and salad.
We lived in Troy, New York, just fifty minutes from Bennington, Vermont, close to the New York/Vermont border. Manchester is less than a half hour from there, so in all it would be about an hour and fifteen-minute trip. As soon as we left our house and headed east we plunged into delightful countryside, passing small family farms and traversing quaint villages as rural upstate New York morphed into bucolic Vermont. Rolling through once verdant landscapes kissed by fall’s golden sun and chilly nights, we delighted in viewing an artist’s palette of every variation of red, yellow, burnt umber, sepia and chartreuse. The brush, fields, flowers and trees all revealed their autumn splendor.
As if this festival of colors was not enough, most every house and business was done up with often fabulous displays of pumpkins, gourds, Indian corn (now known as Ornamental corn), cornstalks and sometimes a smattering of ghosts. Here the scarecrows were authentically clad and many had also served a purpose in the fields where crops had been freshly harvested. Today, these colloquial scenes have been souped up with giant plastic blowups in the form of spiders, ghouls and other representations of today’s exuberance over Halloween.
Yet the sincerity of these Vermonters remains true; fall is a time of sensory celebration. As many in the world know, autumn in Vermont stirs all of the senses.
Sure, the traffic through these country roads and towns has increased over the years. But when you’re on a fall foliage tour, leaf peepers don’t care much. That was the case for Mom and me when we had encountered a few jam ups some years back. Those slowdowns provided us with the opportunity to take a closer look because driving to Manchester meant enjoying the sites and scenery along the way. One could take a week going to Manchester from the capital district area of New York, a route followed by many New Yorkers, including those coming up from the city.
Peppered with antique shops, farm stands, all kinds of specialty shops and places to enjoy a bite, this near-famous Route 7 could easily be considered one of the top shopping and touring thoroughfares of New England.
When Mom and I were making Manchester our final destination, we’d typically only allow ourselves to stop at a handful of spots because we wanted to save a chunk of time for this oh-so happening Vermont town. Our goal would often be to arrive at The Equinox, an inn that has existed since 1769. Spotting the tall and stately columns in the front of the inn signaled that we were stepping back in time. Lunch within this bastion of tradition was always very special. Today, known as The Equinox Golf Resort & Spa, this historic property continues to evolve and is now a destination hotel and a Manchester landmark more so than ever.
After lunch we’d mog around the center of Manchester, popping in and out of shops to our heart’s content. By 1977, Mother Myrick’s also rose to the top of our list of must-sees in Manchester. This confectionery began as a small fudge shop and now ranks as a first-class purveyor of all kinds of yummy sweets, including baked goods. People from all over the country order from their online boutique. Mom’s favorite was their buttercrunch, a handmade toffee made with Cabot Creamery butter. So many memories are wrapped up in foods. I’ll have to procure some for myself soon. Is candy a food?
Northshire Bookstore also opened during this era in an historic building that operated as an inn for over a century. One of the best-known small independent booksellers in the country, Northshire Bookstore has grown throughout the decades both in size (10,000 feet) and stature. Browsing here offers a delightful experience. In addition to being a general bookstore, they also showcase a curated selection of magazines, cards, stationery and all kinds of Vermont-made goods from comestibles to crafts. They, too, have a strong online presence and their author’s events are first-rate.
We would usually leave the town center at a reasonable hour to save lots of time at the now defunct Jelly Mill, a huge old barn filled from the floor boards to the beams with an immense selection of gift items. Seeing this beloved establishment close its doors after so many years was sad but thankfully its disappearance allowed smaller boutiques to shine. Manchester Woodcraft and Above All Vermont are a couple of the shops that make this lovely Vermont town worth the trip.
As time went on and the influx of travelers to Vermont’s Green Mountains grew, so did the shopping scene in Manchester. By the eighties, outlet shopping had become big here and soon Mom and I were spending less time at lunch and more time scouring the discount stores. Favorites outlets have long been Pendleton (for gorgeous woolens), Marimekko (for colorful prints), Le Creuset (for super sturdy cookware from France) and Armani (for fabulous Italian fashions).
We’d sometimes stop into the Orvis store to pick up Christmas gifts for the brothers that liked to fish. (The Orvis family, who once occupied a wing of The Equinox, founded this esteemed company in Manchester in 1856. Known as a world leader in fly fishing, their goods embody the spirit of the Vermont way of life. So it’s only fitting that you’ll find two Orvis stores here, the main one and an outlet.)
Mom and I would pull into our garage past dark with a car stuffed with a prized selection of goods and gifts. Typically we’d only bring the Vermont cheeses, sausages, maple syrup, cider, apples, cider donuts and other goodies into the house. The rest would be stashed away for our own pleasure or for future gift giving to others. Either way, all that we purchased had so much more meaning because of the manner in which we did our shopping and the charming places where our treasures were found.
A Tour of the Heart:
A Seductive Cycling Trip Through France
These trips with Mom were repeated year after year in the fall as well as during other seasons. They left an imprint on me so indelible that I developed an aversion to big cookie-cutter stores. No, I needed to shop in places full of character and charm, even if I only picked up a thing or two.
From Vermont Country Stores to Paris Big Names
With these seeds planted, I eventually founded a shopping service in Paris, France called Chic Promenade. During this time in my life, I organized visits behind-the-scenes to the big names, so that people could learn the story of revered French houses such as Dior, Nina Ricci, Hermès, Louis Vuitton and many others. Chic Promenade also helped visitors discover the lesser-known boutiques of Paris, establishments full of history and tradition that provided a unique experience as soon as you passed through their door.
Before I even conducted my first tour, I began to write about these boutiques as well as the special places of interest, neighborhoods, restaurants, hotels, spas, tea salons and wine bars you’d want to incorporate into all kinds of shopping and touring excursions. In all, I have authored four books on shopping and touring in Paris and the French provinces.
It was a proud day when Mom and I went to Northshire Bookstore for my author’s presentation of one of these books. My passion for shopping and touring in Vermont had come full circle.
Thank you Manchester. Thank you Vermont. Thank you Mom. Merci to all for providing me with such inspiration. I’m sure you’ll find your own form of je ne sais quoi in Vermont when you go as well.
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by maribeth
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A Different Winter: Trekking and Snowshoeing Through Caretaking
Mom and I on One of our Better Days After I Finally Let Her Out of the House to Have Her Hair Done
As the freshness of spring shines upon us, I am hopeful for brighter days. I think we all are!
Life has been quite interrupted for me and I’m writing this from upstate New York where I have been taking care of my my 87-year-old mother. I arrived here the first part of January, quarantined for a good week in the Adirondacks and then settled in with my mom at her house in Troy, New York.
ADK Frozen Lake Fun
I wrote the below story quite a while ago but wasn’t able to post it to my blog due to mysterious technical happenings. Those problems still have not been resolved but I found a backdoor way of finally posting this story. It’s a little out of date at this point, however, I hope you’ll still find it of interest.
This blog SNAFU is illustrative of the issues I have been dealing with and how I find my way around them as I figure out how to best help my mom and take care of the family home. (Built by my grandfather, Mom’s father, it is sixty-plus years old and in need of attention as well. But my mom wants to live out her days here, which I totally understand and I will do everything I can to make that possible.)
Yet I’ve been so overwhelmed! I call it living in the blender. Holy smokes!
Out of respect to my mom, I will not reveal all that I have had to deal with but I can tell you it has been a full-time job. Anyone that has found themselves in this role knows what I mean by that. I’ve looked back at the freedom of my life in Colorado–the joy of waking up at 5:30am in order to head off to the mountain long before the lifts start to turn–with a combination of longing, awe and gratitude. I’ve never taken my job as a Telluride ski instructor for granted and I certainly never will in the future. It is a true pleasure even though that, too, can be exhausting.
Troy Country Club Road: A Great Place to Trek Next to Our House in Upstate New York
Not being in Colorado has been rough at times; just different at others. I have been very much needed here. And as hard as it is, I am grateful that I am able to be here to help my mom. As the old adage goes, “getting old is not for the feint of heart.” I just wish we would have had more snow–boy, have I been envious of the March storms out West.
Troy Country Club Golf Course/Snowfield
ADK Trek
Interspersed with all of the doings for Mom and her house, I still was able to recreate some in the snow. By the third week of February, I was even able to go skiing. (I hope to post a story on that at a later date–maybe for spring skiing?) I feel so fortunate about those few forays!
Since I moved to Colorado twenty years ago (from upstate New York), I have morphed into someone who embraces snowsports more than I ever would have imagined. Skiing has become my life in winter. So since I didn’t have much time for skiing, I found other ways to feel the calm of surrounding myself with snow, beautiful snow. I found other ways to work my body in the cold, crisp air. I delighted in the sweet and toasty sensation of coming inside and sipping a hot drink after playing outside in a winter wonderland, even if I was only able to escape for an hour or so.
Yes, I found ways to enjoy the beauty of winter. And most of all, I have found better ways to cope with all that I have to manage here. Spring has sprung and with it comes the prospect of dealing with all with more serenity and calm and also hopefully, the possibility of doing some nice hikes and walkabouts in the fresh air as the flowers begin to bloom. The upsets and breakdowns over all that I need to respond to here have lessened. I am fully assuming this role and I will see it through.
Wheelchair and Snowshoes: This Winter’s Equipment
I hope you like the below story!
Snowshoeing and Snowtrekking: A Different Kind of Winter Fun
Me Near Telluride After My First Big Snowshoe Outing
Have you ever heard of Snowshoe Magazine? I just checked it out online. It’s pretty cool in a laidback, crunchy granola sort of way. Kind of like snowshoeing itself.
Coming from a very ski-oriented family, I grew up with Ski Magazine. As a twenty-year resident of Colorado, skiing became my way of life. And since I’m a ski instructor, it’s included in my annual membership to PSIA (Professional Ski Instructors of America). But Snowshoe Magazine, well, such a publication never crossed my mind.
I’ve thought very little about snowshoeing–or anything other than skiing–all these winters. And yet to my delight, I’m finally giving it a go and enjoying it.
I knew this winter was going to be different from the ones I had experienced in Colorado. COVID has made everything different for everyone. But little did I know that it would shake up my ski world. Yet when I was given the option by the director at the Telluride Ski & Snowboard School early fall to sit out the season without it effecting my priority, I eventually realized that that was the sensible thing to do. This was to be my eighteenth season and skiing has become an essential part of who I am in winter; it was hard to imagine not being out on the mountain with the rest of my “ski family.”
View from a Bridge: Frozen Creek
But family matters back east and an inherent fear of catching the virus made me think twice about it all. I felt grateful–I still in fact feel very grateful–to the resort for granting this opportunity. Normally, if you sit out a season the counter is reset at zero and that would have been a real bummer for me, since at year twenty I will receive my lifetime pass, a brass ring of sorts for Telluride Ski Resort employees.
So I pulled out a pair of Tubbs snowshoes that I had purchased long before I moved to Colorado to see what fun I could have with them. I had only used them once during my time in Telluride and that was to do a full-moon jaunt to an igloo that’s built annually up at Lizard Head Pass. (I remember the hike downhill left me with agonizing hip pain the next day and lo and behold didn’t I have to have a hip replacement a handful of years later.)
This year I was in T-ride just past the new year and then flew back east to help out at home. Early season was not blessed with an abundance of snow and I was recovering from surgery (this time for a hysterectomy!), so I was in no rush to head out to the slopes. By the time I started to ponder how I’d feel going out for some turns without wearing my big red uniform, the holiday season was upon us and I knew I didn’t want to have to deal with any lines. (When teaching, we have our own line, which is rarely long at all.) Plus, the thought of not hanging in the lodge for a hot chocolate, a bowl of chili or a cold and frosty (out of uniform of course) made the idea of a ski outing seem rather daunting no matter how sweet the turns. This is especially the case in December and January.
Priest Lake View
So I decided to strap on my snowshoes and head out the door and venture into the San Juans on my own steam. My guy lives in San Bernardo, a little residential neighborhood about twenty minutes from Telluride. You can find The Priest Lake Trails, a wonderful nordic skiing trail system, right across the road. It’s one of the best outdoor circuits in the region all year long and much appreciated for its natural beauty and the fact that it has so far remained sparsely used.
As I clunked onto the trail, I was first shocked about how different snowshoeing is from skiing. As I say when I’m teaching, skiing–as well as snowboarding–is all about the glide. We encourage people to embrace the slide, something that is often a foreign concept for folks that haven’t been into snowsports much and work hard not to slip on ice or snow when padding about in winter. Indeed, I felt like a robot as I mechanically stepped forward in my snowshoes. So much for the delicious feeling of cruising down the slopes and setting your skis on edge, tipping and turning as you create your own perfect buttercream swirls as you head down the slopes. No, this stilted method of moving left me feeling like a multijointed superhero setting out to survey the land.
Rocky Mountain Outing
Yet as I dipped into the woods, something magical began to happen. My stiff robotic movements eased into a rhythmic walkabout and suddenly I discovered the bliss of being out in nature amid the quiet of the trees and the thick blanket of snow without having a soul around, let alone a skier or boarder zooming by me. (Or me blowing by someone else for that matter.) I discovered the supreme solitude of the forest and it was at that moment that I realized that that was exactly what I needed at that moment, it is exactly what I need this winter.
Life has been extremely chaotic. Between COVID and other crises, I have retreated into a more insular life. Yet I love the outdoors and desperately need it in the winter. (Seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, is what drove me to Colorado.) I love bundling up and braving the cold–even on a grey day. And then to head back inside and settle in to a nice hot cinnamon-laced mocha is one of the greatest joys of the season for me.
My Yaktraks
Since I’ve been back east in upstate New York, I’ve done that many times. I’ve snowshoed some and trekked even more. To me, trekking is going for an energetic walk on snow-covered trails or roads (or even lakes!) with my Yaktraks. For others, trekking is about venturing into the Himalayas. Either way, the joy of being outside surrounded by the illuminating effects of snow is a universal theme, even if it means just bopping out for a tour in your neighborhood.
One of the benefits of COVID is that more people have discovered the amazing benefits of recreating out of doors. I read a while back that many snowshoe suppliers sold out for the season–go figure! It is a great way to enjoy a blast of nature and have an aerobic workout in a short amount of time. I’ve become better at it and although it will never (EVER!) replace my love for skiing, it does provide a nice hit of winter fun.
Hudson Pointe Nature Preserve
Stockpiling in the Adirondacks Where Winter is Most Grey
So far I’ve mostly snowshoed on rather groomed trails and plodded along on some crusty snow in the northeast where normally I would have punched threw. They say that snowshoeing is primo on a powder day. Wow, coming from Telluride, I can tell you that people there live for powder days; people will ditch their nearest and dearest to find some freshies. (Ever hear of the expression “There are no friends on powder days?”) Somehow, I can’t imagine the same frenzy about heading out to find fresh tracks on snowshoes. But that, too, is likely part of the beauty of it all. Snowshoeing and trekking are so much about quietly communing with nature. Yes, now I can feel and hear it–fluff, fluff, fluff, ploufff.
I hope you will enjoy these pictures from my snowshoe and trekking jaunts in the Rockies, the Adirondacks and in Troy, New York. I quarantined for a week at Lake Luzerne (in the Adirondacks) and was once again able to experience the thrill of walking on frozen water. (The last time was decades ago.) Here in Troy, I’m delighted to have the Troy Country Club right outside my door, which provides a variety of terrain for treks and snowshoeing.
All this helps to make the challenges of COVID and caring for an elderly parent (my mom) much more manageable. I hope you find your fix this winter, too. It also makes the chocolate, cheese, wine and hearty meals such as stew with dumplings feel less self indulgent. If I keep this up, I just might become a regular subscriber to Snowshoe Magazine. And hopefully burn off a bunch more calories while breathing in the great outdoors.
Vintage ADK
Note that with all the snow in Colorado this year, there will likely be snowsport fun up through May.
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by maribeth
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Visiting the Holiday Greens Show in Troy, New York with Mom
Mom Enjoying the Holiday Greens Show
A Patriotic Christmas
Home for the Holidays
The Grand Entranceway
I’m back in Colorado cherishing a very special holiday moment I shared with my mom in my hometown of Troy, New York just before I left. It was extraordinary for many reasons. It was the first time since 2001 that I was with my mother in December, which allowed us to do something Christmas-y together. (I moved to Colorado in January 2002 and became a ski instructor shortly thereafter. Once ski season starts, I hardly travel anywhere except perhaps to another ski destination.) I also relived childhood memories that I know have played a formative part in my life.
Mom and I picked up on a tradition that began some sixty-one years ago at the Holiday Greens Show, a glorious open house of sorts at the Hart-Cluett House, home to the Rensselaer County Historical Society. I believe mom started going to the Greens show from the beginning and she first brought me there some fifty years ago. Decorated from balustrade to mantelpiece with an abundance of fresh greens, Christmas trees, fresh and dried flowers and a treasure trove of memorabilia by the Van Rensselaer Garden Club, this mansion shimmers with all the beauty of the holidays every year for four days during the beginning of December. It’s like stepping onto a Hollywood set of a nineteenth-century film filled with elegance and grandeur, merrymaking and holiday charm.
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