Last Friday I believe it was, we visited the little towns and the area that had once been our stomping grounds, those many years ago. There are parts of that trip that I am saving because those parts have more tales to tell and I want to see what old pictures I can find at home to use for contrast – the old and the new. Or more recent. But this part of the tale I can share.
We drove across the river on the Mid-Hudson Bridge, aka Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge (I believe)
and a sign that told about the walkway, formerly a railroad bridge that had been converted to a bridge on which one could walk across the Hudson River if one so desired. I desired, sort of, but we had places to be and things to see.
Heading on up the road
and suddenly, we are entering the town of Rosendale, where once upon a time long long ago I lived for a short period of time. The parts of the story that I am not yet sharing took place after we moved from Rosendale to Bloomington; today we see Rosendale
The change has come, The Author says, because of the nearby Metro train line that rapidly and efficiently transports those who wish, or must, go to New York City. We suspect the area has become a respite for city-dwellers, a place to go on weekends to enjoy blue skies, fresh air, and more open spaces.
We are hungry now, so we stop for lunch at a small cafe that was not there in those days that we were there, which has a patio facing the street – but across the street is a forested area, and the street is not so busy as to be a deterrent
We meet Leo who is out with his man, who is out for lunch. Leo’s man says Leo is a Silver Lab; I have never before met a Silver Lab and had taken Leo to be a Weimaraner. It is my suspicion that Leo’s history includes a Weimaraner.
In this day, as in many, there was enough.