Story & Photo by William M. Dowd<\/a><\/strong>
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\n<\/a>KEENE VALLEY — So there I was, blithely heading up the Northway en route to an overnight visit to Lake Placid, minding my own business and just enjoying the scenery.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, right around Exit 30, it hit me square in the face.<\/p>\n
Not a risk-taking deer crossing the road. Rather, the first real sign that summer is<\/i> over despite my earlier protestations<\/a> that we tend to rush the seasons around here.<\/p>\n
There is something about mountains at once new but eternal, inviting but humbling. As the poet Emily Dickinson<\/a> wrote of the mountain:<\/p>\n
” The seasons prayed around his knees,<\/p>\n
Like children round a sire:<\/p>\n
Grandfather of the days is he,<\/p>\n
Of dawn the ancestor. ”<\/p>\n
Connect here<\/a> with columnist William M. Dowd’s lineup of blogs for news and information on food, drink and destinations.<\/b><\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"