It’s been a joy to spend the first month of spring inspecting the trail at the East Branch Nature Preserve at the Catskills Water Discovery Center, a local Catskills conversation non-profit where I have been a board member and secretary since last fall. Last October, a fellow board member and I walked with Laura Silverman of the Outside Institute, and we identified many plant and tree species on our trail. We developed a list of everything that we found on the trail and spent spring watching all of it slowly wake from its slumber.
This week, we walked with the Catskills Forest Association to identify our tree species and prepare for a Tree Identification event that will be open to the public this year.
It felt like 2025 barreled like a runaway train, right out of the gate, headlong to its sudden and swift end, like it was shuddering on the rails, at speed, while we bounced around on the seats and clung to the handrails for dear life. Was it just me that felt that way?
For me, the holidays very much seemed like 2025 hit the buffers in the terminal with a crashing thump. I couldn’t write nor paint during the festive season, so I had to stop and think for a few weeks. I did a lot of winter hiking and the season seems to be getting colder and colder every year, but it sharpens the senses. I focused on the requests I’ve had in 2025: a few more chapters on Alfie. (The first three you can find here, here and here). He is coming up on his 13th birthday and his kidneys appear to be slowly winding down, a fact that overshadowed the year. There were also requests for more watercolor birds, which have been my most popular art so far, and it was rewarding to offer affordable original pieces to everyone.
Nobody wants the nudes, (one is currently on show at ArtUp Margaretville), which was disappointing because I’ve worked quite hard in figure drawing over the years and produced work that nobody wants. I’m told that it’s a good exercise to do good work, then rip it up and start again. I hope to start winter figure drawing soon.
And then there is the new space, a new studio on 818 Main Street in Margaretville that doesn’t feel quite right somehow. It feels lonely to be out on the street on one’s own instead of nestled in a studio with other artists all together. I’m already looking around for somewhere else to put Upstate Dispatch, but it has to have a kitchen, so I can make everyone tea and coffee. Next weekend, I will be opening the studio January 9th, 10th and 11th from 12pm-4pm for the final showing of the seasonal show “Spring in Winter” that includes my Catskills Mandalas.
The Catskills Mandala Project will encompass other artists this year and I am planning a show of that work in the summer. It’s going to be a colorful 2026.
Finally, The Delaware National Bank of Delhi on Route 28 in Margaretville has asked me to show my work there, so all my framed photographic work will be going up there when I can get to it in the next week or two.
Happy New Year! I wish everyone a peaceful and fulfilling 2026.
The Gallery on 818 Main Street, Margaretville, NY 12455. Opening hours: Friday, Saturday, Sunday 12pm-4pm.
June 28 saw the opening reception of artist Luke Dougherty’s superbly ethereal “Here a Mist, There a Mist” at Hawk & Hive gallery in Andes, NY on show until July 27, 2025.
There is much more to this body of work and so the gallery show has been named “Part I” of the show. The artist will also host a one-day open studio and reception on July 13 2025 from noon – 3pm for a viewing of “Part II”.
There’s something for everyone in this beautiful little hamlet.
Last month, Estro New York opened in the former Wilson’s Bread premises on Main Street in Andes. This eclectic new design store with “furniture, art and objects”, mostly vintage, joins coffee shops, diners, a grocery store, book store, a working farm, art galleries, a hotel-restaurant-bar owned by one of the community’s most committed members, the tasting room of a local cider-maker, library, historical society, vintage clothing stores, record shop, wine store, a yoga studio, and finally, an art space, where weekly figure drawing classes are held during the summer by the cool, babbling brook that runs through the town.
*Pauses to take a deep breath* Have I left anything out?
All these businesses make this gorgeous little hamlet one of the Great Western Catskills’ most diverse small towns.
I joined the Catskills life drawing group back in 2016 and I credit these weekly sessions, that only paused during the pandemic, for improving not only my sketching skills, but also my observational skills. The human form is the most difficult subject to draw and I’m only just beginning to draw feet after almost ten years of practice. I’ve given myself a goal of decent hands by the end of the year.
I have lived for this habit over the years. For three hours, I shut out the world with intense focus. Our little group of dedicated life drawers, assembles wherever we can, sometimes in the Upstate Dispatch studio, whenever we can, in all weathers.
This past winter, we dedicated artists have braved all the atrocious Catskills weather, the bone-crunching frigid temperatures that freeze the fluid in your eyeballs, emerging from our snug hiding places to hone our skill at ArtUp, organized by Gary Mayer. Not to mention our brave models that bare all for us for three hours every week, after having driven from far-flung corners of the region.
The result of this past winter’s work is the new exhibition “Skin and Bone”, at ArtUp in Margaretville.
Participating artists: Suzanne Ausnit, Steve Burnett, Chris Criswell, Sandra Finkenberg, Patrice Lorenz, Gary Mayer, Joe Miller and myself, Jenny Neal, all representing wildly differing styles, all dedicated observers of the human form. I have sixty small nudes on offer including the one pictured above. Last week, a fellow artist described me as follows: “you paint like you’re whispering in someone’s ear” after I told them that I paint like somebody who can’t afford paint; less is more, my brush seems to be saying.
Gary Mayer, who organized the winter sessions says: “intense observation and concentration unites our little group of artists and model, once a week”.
The show runs until Sunday April 6. Opening reception: Friday March 28, 4-7pm.
ArtUp, 746 Main Street, Binnekill Square, Margaretville, NY 12455.
When I first began to explore Jake’s farm, Lazy Crazy Acres, in that winter of 2020, I noticed what looked like old, dead bamboo by the river – very tall beige rods with those distinctive horizontal ridges – but it was actually Japanese Knotweed, a member of the buckwheat family. This imported Japanese ornamental is everywhere and is as exceptionally difficult to eradicate as any living pest like the emerald ash borer or hemlock wooly adelgid. It’s a problem because it’s so incredibly voracious, growing by feet in a day, and its roots can destroy the foundation of a house. The stems can grow up to 15ft tall, and they block natural light for any other plant beneath it. The plant quickly takes over large areas and smothers everything on the forest floor below and disrupts wildlife habitats. It has beautiful large spade-shaped leaves with their deep blood-red stems, all shooting from hollow green bamboo-like rods.
Warm and sunny, with wispy bits of cloud like someone didn’t clean up the sky properly and a high of 70F. Overnight lows dipping into the thirties. Frost warning.
An overcast and gloomy morning clearing up mid-afternoon to late evening and a clear blue sunset. Chilly with some sprinkles and a high of 64F. Lows in the fifties.
Gloomy and rainy, with intermittent showers leaving a trail of thick mist in their wake. A high of 71F and humid. The goldenrod is enjoying this late summer.
Muggy, still and overcast with low cloud and a high of 77F. Late afternoon drizzle gave way to some patches of blue. A barely discernible reddening of the landscape. The greens aren’t giving up yet.
Yes, I’m still here! I know some of you can’t believe it. It is, however, the 9th birthday of Upstate Dispatch and this is the 2,355th post. Yes, I persist. The Daily Catskills section began again this year on September 1st for the fall season, but it’s just too much work to maintain it year-round. (BTW, there are a few splotches of red in the foliage here and there, and in small pockets, mostly shady areas, we have piles of fallen leaves, but because of the heat, it still feels like summer. Try telling that to the tomatoes, though.)
If you’re a regular reader, you’ll know that I have mostly been focusing on art, and writing. I’m working on a memoir, not because I’m special, but because there’s a story here that I need to tell. Part of this story was published in Farmerish and it was well-received. You can read it here.
I will be publishing an introduction, some excerpts, and companion pieces to this memoir on Substack: a “new economic engine for culture”, which is a paid newsletter that gives writers a chance to earn a living. For those of you who are interested in paying a very small subscription for my content. Here’s a chance to find out more about who I am. I hope to see you there!
Finally, I often go out for lunch, breakfast or dinner in the Catskills and hear about how Upstate Dispatch has helped local businesses. I really appreciate the feedback and thank everyone for their support.
A steamy day. Hot and humid, with plump, fluffy cloud and a high of 89F. Mid-afternoon thunder and rain that took a pause for sunset and then continued with epic house-rattling thunder and lightning after dark. Some epic weather.
The very first post on Upstate Dispatch on September 9th, 2014, which you can find here, was a post on my first watercolor completed under the tutelage of Alix Travis. After ten years, this watercolor is up for sale at the Andes Academy of Art on 506 Main Street, Andes, NY 13731.
The opening of the show is on July 15th, 2023 from 2pm to 6pm and curated by Peter Mayer.
It’s been a while since I wrote with any regularity here, and I need to get back to my roots as a writer, so I started a new project: documenting the history and workings of this 93-year-old working farm to which I moved exactly two years ago: Lazy Crazy Acres Farm and its resident farmer Jake Fairbairn who makes hay and maple syrup on 100 acres. It’s a collaboration between Lazy Crazy Acres Farm and Upstate Dispatch. The farm is in need of some serious TLC. The house needs renovating and the farm equipment needs constant repair. Will we be able to fix up the house in time for the farm’s centenary? Who knows? But we have started by fixing the back porch, which was falling down.
Farming is a hugely risky endeavor. The weather is boss and this has been an extraordinary year in that this is the first year that Jake has not been able to make hay in June. In May 2023 we had a month of drought conditions: browned grass and hay growth that was only about 60% of last year’s mass. In June we have had near-constant rain. At time of writing, July 4th, Jake is fixing the steering wheel on one of the farm’s 50-year-old tractors, because it is still raining.
Furthermore, it’s not only good practice for me as a writer, but I also feel the need to publish my own authentic story. To this end, my next post will be a piece of my memoir that was published two years ago in Farmerish.net, which I am publishing for the first time here on Upstate Dispatch.
“Are you coming to the drawing tonight?” Gary Mayer asks me. I’m honored to be part of a Catskills figure drawing group with local artists such as Steve Burnett, Gary, Peter Mayer, and Sandy Finkenberg.
“No,” I say. “I’m going to a potluck dinner”.
“Well, you won’t find potluck in here,” he says as he steps up into his studio. “More like shit out of luck,” he laughs, highlighting a disparity between the lightness of his personality and the intensity of his work. He’s quick to laugh, good company and chatty, but this magnanimity belies the intensity of his imagery. “I have a wild imagination,” he frowns, nodding gravely. “I didn’t sleep a lot as a kid”. We have something in common. “Me, too,” I say. It’s a little exhausting. But I’m keen to keep him laughing because all the profile pictures I see of him make him look flummoxed, for want of a better word.
His general demeanor is nonchalance, however, like his image: hey, look at this shit I did. I don’t get it either. *Shrugs* The ad for his new gallery in Margaretville named Art Up is photo of a handwritten note, for example. I get the sense that his reward comes from expressing himself, while painting, rather than the final work being appreciated.
Cold, with a high of 48F and a chilly wind. A mostly gloomy day with the sun emerging late afternoon like it had spent all day a work. A beautiful evening.
We’re very proud to announce that the Winter 2022 Issue of Upstate Dispatch was published last year and is available for sale. It’s been a serious challenge to be a novice publisher, but the outpouring of enthusiasm has been hugely encouraging. As a writer, I was convinced that readers still wanted some print materials and I was right to take the leap.
There’s so much distraction on the internet that avid readers are moving away from it. The last month has shown me that readers consider a book or magazine to be a rare treat and a small luxury in trying times. I worked hard for eight years on the website, bringing a wealth of information on the area to thousands of readers, and I was dedicated to making the magazine beautiful. I hope you’ll invest in a copy.
You will soon find the magazine in select independent book stores in New York City, but for now, those outside the Catskills area can order their copy by emailing info@upstatedispatch.com. The price for mailing within New York State is $20, plus $5 postage and packaging.
Please watch this post for changes as we expand our availability.
In the magazine, you’ll find winter recipes, interviews, essays, recommended reading and some of the best images of Catskills winter hiking in one beautiful issue.
More gloom. Overcast, with a slight chill taking the edge off the humidity and a high of 65F. Misty clouds sail through the valley towing their falling rain.
Loud overnight thunderstorms begin in the early hours of the autumnal equinox, the first day of fall. Intermittent rain, some afternoon sun, and a high of 69F. Humid with a chilly breeze.
I developed a curry sauce made from scratch during the pandemic. Curry is part of Ayurvedic diet in which you eat foods that protect your health, so this year I tried to grow some of the ingredients. There are plenty of foods in this diet that don’t grow well in this climate, but we do have some good replacements. For example, spice bush, native to the Catskills and Northeast America, is a good stand-in for spices because you can eat the leaves, twigs and berries. I’ve never found spice bush when foraging here, but I did buy a few seedlings from Barkaboom Native Plants based here in the Catskills.
Some of what I planted at Lazy Crazy Acres farm did not do well, or even grow at all, but what did grow really well were arugula, red bliss potatoes, garlic, tomatoes, and hot peppers. We have shishito, jalapeno, cayenne, anaheim and exactly one dark green poblano. We got at least 30 shishito peppers from one plant alone, although we had to get it under cover because the deer started to eat the plant. I also planted mint and lavender as companion plants. The mint has kept the tomatoes pest-free except for one lonely, recent hornworm. All these are on the farm stand, except the hornworm who was invited to move across the street. Considering that we’re on dead-end road, this little fledgling farm stand is not doing too badly. Visitors to Tree Juice Maple Syrup are the biggest customers, which is where the farm stand is, and some of the garlic will be going into the syrup.
Whatever does not get sold will get dried or preserved. We grew 300 heads of garlic and the cloves from the biggest bulbs will get planted in October.
The farm stand is open when it’s not raining. We’ve yet to add a roof, but we all have to start somewhere.
Tomorrow will mark the five year anniversary of Upstate Dispatch. I’m not sure how that happened, but it’s been a wild ride. I can honestly say that this city girl has learned so much more about life, work and herself these past few years than could have been imagined.
To commemorate, I will be a guest on the radio tonight of Steve Burnett in his show The Evening Tickler at 6pm. Listen in on WIOX here.
You may have noticed that there hasn’t been much on the website these past few months and there’s a reason for that. I’m taking my life in an entirely new direction. I’ve no idea where it will lead, but there will be a new website devoted to more of my writing life than just this neck of the woods, and new media-based work in the arts and further afield. But there’s so much content here, you could peruse this site for the next year on the old posts alone. Below find links to the most popular posts of the past five years. Coming up for UD in the future, we’ll be more food-focused with new contributors to write on recipes, farming and the local economy. We’re looking for sponsors to underwrite our fall content and invite pitches to info@upstatedispatch.com.
Meanwhile, over the summer, it has been nice to relax into the scenery, just exist in the woods, forage, harvest and meditate, without having to document every leaf, stream and view of it.
Upstate Dispatch Links
We never finished the Catskills 35! I have just six bushwhacks left and will do those over the winter because the summit is easier to find without the leaves on the trees. However, our hiking section is the most popular.
This is an update of our recipe from a few years ago, because now you can buy almond milk. There’s no need to soak almonds overnight and strain them to get their milk. Cucumbers are in season from July through October and this refreshing, sweet chilled soup is the perfect antidote to our scorching recent Catskills weather.
Cucumber Gazpacho
Three medium sized English cucumbers Three cups of almond milk, unsweetened Half cup of water An apple, peeled, chopped and cored or 10 grapes Three teaspoons of olive oil Half teaspoon of salt Half teaspoon of pepper
Puree the grapes in a blender, sieve them and save the liquid. Peel, chop and puree the cucumbers in a food processor until they are liquid and while the cucumbers are blending add the olive oil, salt and pepper, grape juice and almond milk. You might also like to add a little of the almond or grape pulp to garnish with a splash of olive oil. Chill before serving. Delicious.
This is the sort of recipe that you can amend without too much fuss. If you want a sweeter gazpacho, you just throw all the fruit – an apple and the grapes – in the blender with the cucumber. (If the result is too thick, add more almond milk.) This also makes a perfect pre-workout smoothie where, if you haven’t had a chance to eat all day yet you still want to work out, you can drink this an hour or two before exercising.
Almost a foot of overnight snow descends, putting an end to exactly a week of thatched, nascent landscape and its rich earth tones. Sticky snow like spray foam clings to trunks, boughs and branches, turning outdoor furniture into ghosts, making ski-runs deep and slow. Mountains shrouded in foggy snow clouds. More snow fall during the day and a high of 38F.
On March 15th last week, we woke to a bare Catskills landscape like it had thrown off its white quilt in the night and saw a high of 65F that day: such a stark difference from last year on the same day in the same place, where it remained at 37F and covered in snow.
Just before noon last week, we decided to check the last surviving bee hive. To our delight, after five years of trying to keep bees and failing, we discovered that our white hive of bees survived the winter. (The Warre hive into which we had installed a swarm last year did not.)
We re-stocked the surviving bee hive with food patties for the bees, just in case we got another cold snap, and put back the lid. Last year, we built a heavy “roof” for our hive and insulated it with old, woolen sweaters and pillows and this seems to have kept them warm. The hive is thriving.
Shards of sunlight search the forest floor beneath the hemlocks. Creeks and rivers are still high, rising to meet the snowy banks. A high of 34F takes the edge off the morning chill.
Yesterday’s attempt to climb Rusk Mountain – our second – was a success, probably because the conditions were ideal. The first few miles of the ascent was a soft, bouncy carpet of fallen leaves, as most of the snow had melted, but we were followed by passing clouds that sprinkled dry, granular snow. As we climbed, we were still able to discern the trail of previous hikers – a dark trail of wet, disturbed leaves that snaked up the mountain. The summit of Rusk is a tangle of aging, gnarled spruces, some darkened by lightning, presiding over its younger generation of fern-like trees. The sign-in canister, painted a vivid, hunting orange, was attached to what looked like a lone cherry tree amidst this mess of pines that looks like a spiky hairdo.
Rusk is a popular hike because it’s short, but very steep – an elevation gain of 1600 ft – so if you’re fit enough you can be up and down in a few hours, so it’s often hiked with its sister mountains, East Rusk, Hunter and Southwest Hunter. When you get to the summit, it’s possible to see down the equally steep north side of the mountain and Jewett below.
Overcast and frigid. A high of 32F with only the lush, fir-capped peaks harboring pockets of winter wonderland at their summits. Snowmelt rushes through strong, high creeks and rivers.
