Now that my car is fixed, I can get back to my real passion in life – which is road trips!
Trip to the Southern tier planned for Thursday, and I spent yesterday tromping around through the thick undergrowth of the Norrie state park and the trail along the river to look for arrowheads and the Hoyt House.
Found the latter, not the former.
In fact, tromping from the trailhead to the Hoyt House turns out not to be a very efficient way of getting to the Hoyt House although you do get more exercise, and I saw two foxes – one red and one grey, rather odd in the drowsiest part of the afternoon considering that foxes are crepuscular.
For years and years, I searched in vain for the Hoyt House – considered by architects to be one of the finest examples of Calvin Vaux’s skills. Vaux designed huge swathes of New York City – the more attractive swathes – before dying mysteriously. If only Vaux’s body hadn’t been found, I could imagine him haunting the Hoyt House, a guest at an interminable party whose ghastly attendees also included all dead Livingstons going back to the grim, inexorable Signer of the Declaration of Independence himself.
But Vaux’s body was found, and the Hoyt House is easy to find if your start out at the Mills Mansion and walk a mile around the point:
The Mills Mansion itself is most impressive for its Beaux Arts neoclassical façade. Once upon a time, one imagines, its impressive greensward was dotted with statues but one by one, when the moon was full, they all came alive and wandered away to snag low-paying jobs as prison guards or liquor store clerks in the surrounding hardscabble towns.
Except for this one:
And here is the incomparable Hoyt House itself, a small bit of Ozymandias in the deep forest:
I just LUV it when I can work that cautionary moral edge into my road trips!
Today, I have a shitload of work to do – housecleaning and yard work in addition to the usual sit-in-one-place-and-make-$$$$ work.
And no interest in doing any of it.
Though that’s not so unusual.