Between You and Me: When you have the urge to get away, here’s a possible destination

By Leah S. Dunaief

It was time to get away, even for a day, and when better than on foliage weekend! So Saturday, we took the ferry to Connecticut and started up Route 8 to get to the Berkshires and the seasonal colors. Were we too late in the fall? Shortly after we left Bridgeport, our choice of time and place were confirmed. It was a perfect autumn day, sunny, bright, soft breeze, balmy even, and the colors burst upon us, the reds, oranges, yellows mixed with a still significant amount of green as we began to drive through the hills. No, we were not too late.

We had been concerned, too, about the effects of the summer’s drought on the leaves. We needn’t have worried. Perhaps, it wasn’t the most dramatic foliage we had ever witnessed, some trees were already bare, but it was brilliant enough to excite our eyes. We whooped around every bend in the road that presented us with a new palette of hills and color. 

The timing of foliage season has altered somewhat over the past few years. Climate change has impacted peak leaf peeping by extending the warmer weather that keeps trees green. Hence the optimal viewing time has also been delayed. This year, according to records, seems like it will clock in as the fifth warmest. So it turned out that our urge for an outing was right on.

Where to go?

While it was possible just to drive slowly, drinking in the scenery, it was also fun to have a destination in mind. We left the highway, or rather it left us as it ended in Winsted, incidentally, my dad’s birthplace, and we started on a local road that eventually led us to Southfield, the home of a long-ago college roommate with whom we had lost contact. She, and her family, as we discovered, no longer lived there, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying the tiny town. Yes, it was one of those “blink and you will miss it” villages, but we didn’t blink. We parked and had lunch at The Store, a delightful coffee, pastry and sandwich shop with tables inside as well as out front. Happily installed in one corner of the patio with a turkey and avocado sandwich and a generous slice of chocolate-banana bread, to be washed down with ambrosial coffee, we chatted up the couple at the adjoining table, who were smiling at us.

In fact, it was the kind of day that prompted everyone to smile. There we were, amid glorious leafage, basking in ideal temperature and bright sunlight in the peaceful countryside. They told us their names, Paul and Julia, and that they were from Westchester County and celebrating their anniversary. For the first time, they were at leisure to do that because their two children, a son and a daughter, were at college. She was a psychologist, he worked in finance, and they had left their responsibilities behind to stay at the historic inn in the next village for the weekend.

They were fun to talk to, as was every other person who went by, walking their dogs. We asked each one if they knew the roommate’s family, but just about each one apologized and explained that they had only moved there 20 years ago. What a coincidence, we thought. They had all come more or less at the same time. It wasn’t until the next day that we realized what had happened those two decades ago: 9/11 happened. If one wanted to escape from a city to a safe and bucolic place, here was one such location. Perhaps that was what brought them there.

We stayed in the area, driving around, enjoying the typical New England white clapboard church with its distinctive steeple, the inn and the village common along with glorious Nature. Then, as night fell, we had dinner at the inn before returning home.

The next day, I felt as if I had been aired out.