Half Windsor Full Throttle: Walking Tour : Cold Spring - a picturesque 19th century small town

From Grand Central Terminal, a Metro North train gets you to New York's Village of Cold Spring in approximately an hour. Since its operated by NYC, the trains are old and dirty, but the route is scenic: the Hudson River and a national forest at Castle Rock Park.

Unlike other areas that require a car/taxi ride into town, Cold Spring is a historic site built around the railroad. So, you can exit the train, walk along the platform, ascend stairs, and go right onto Main Street.

It exudes a "small town" vibe, and its villagers are vigilant to preserve that.

The community is part of a larger town named Philipstown. The town's history began with Adolphus Philipse in 1697, when he bought the land from colonial-era Dutchmen. From the British Crown, he elicited a royal patent declaring the 250-square-mile territory to be his. Philipstown was established in 1788 as one of the county's three original towns (the same year that Britain's King George III succumbed to madness for the first time). Cold Spring incorporated itself as a village in 1846.

On the southern border of the Hudson Highlands Park, Cold Spring is nestled in the deepest part of the Hudson River Valley. Population of 1,983. The bucolic village is full of quaint picket fences, turreted Victorian homes with carpentry ornamentation, breezy porches and verandas with rocking chairs, and a colorfully picturesque Main Street.

A cozy and bright "secret garden" affords a superb place for recitals, public readings and lectures.

Lewis was enthralled with the curiosities within a slew of antique shops along Main Street. I admired this 1920s Art Moderne cocktail shaker...

Those rockers and log-burning "porch heater" are restored antiques and well-used. On the corner, we saw someone's backyard full of chickens (and a rooster). The poultry had their own miniature playground, juxtaposed with the family children's toys. Such unique pets!

The village has an air of Andy Griffith's "Mayberry", or "Carmel" from old Any Hardy movies. Shop owners are trusting and don't watch what customers are doing. No surveillance cameras. Doors and windows are left open. Even a police car was left running on the street (it remained there for 10 minutes).

Below, that shop owner's sign really gave a "small town" feel.

Above, an Italian café has outdoor seating along its curvy brick pathway, which connects Main Street to the homes on the block behind it. How cozy! (and you meet your neighbors, too)

Lewis loved the tall windows and old-fashioned iron fence. That property had a turn-of-the-century detached garage, accessed down a gravel driveway with a rickety wooden gate (with a spider's web shimmering in the summer sunlight).

The "gingerbread" millwork on the homes is beautiful. On a side street, a Catholic redbrick church is tucked in the middle of two lovely homes.

My eyes were on the varying porch woodwork, while Lewis spotted an old-fashioned "home delivery" milk container that is still used in Cold Spring!

That cupola, above, is atop a 19th century barn/carriage house!

How clever! Someone tied twine to keep a flowerpot on their fence. And non-exisistant vandals left it alone.

Below, another antique wooden fence still gives access to the public park's soccer field. It reminded me of a scene from To Kill A Mockingbird.

Notice all the toys left in the local playground. No theft. Honor code. Trusting.

The churches were left unlocked—as they should be—and available for prayers even while unattended. We noticed real candles (not electric) in the windows. That's an old sign of "welcome" and hospitality.

Getting hungry, we entered Brasserie Le Bouchon for dinner.

It's a cozy French restaurant that Lewis admired ESPECIALLY for their duck foie gras. We each ordered one, as a first course. Raised/butchered locally, it was tender and flavorful. Seared to perfection, it was worth the entire trip, by itself. Voila!

We overheard the table behind us, as the father gently told his son (named Wilson), "Remember that we're out at a restaurant, so keep you elbows off the table, keep your utensils in their places, and keep your napkin in your lap." He was like a dad from "black & white TV". Bless him for his civility and child-rearing skills!

I ordered the $28 grilled platter of seafood (above): mussels, cockles, huge prawns, zucchini, potatoes, and octopus (the octopus alone costs $14 in my neighborhood). Lewis savored the HUGE sea scallops over the creamiest risotto.

We finished our bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and bypassed dessert (since we had purchased locally hand-made ice cream as soon as we arrived in town).

A pleasant stroll down Main Street put us back on the train platform, just in time for our ride back to the city. Fireflies blinked in the bushes, as the train rumbled to a halt.

The hour ride homeward was delightful, and we watched a sunset form over the pastoral landscape. We arrived back to the stately Grand Central Terminal just before its Gourmet Market closed—allowing us to grab some delicacies to bring home via the subway.