A Brooklyn Girl’s Guide to Sunday: The Spruceton Inn

When you live in the city– even Brooklyn– sometimes getting out somewhere where there are more trees than people can be the best feeling in the world. I just breathe a little bit easier when I do, and there’s nowhere quieter, or with less cell service, than the Catskills. There’s actually no service there– just an FYI for the masses– but it’s the best thing that you could possibly ask for. The Catskills are about a two-and-a-half to three hour drive from New York City, including a diner stop in New Paltz, where they still have side-of-the-road diners that serve cereal boxes in view of rotating cake displays.

The Spruceton Inn is down a totally charming dirt road, complete with its own church, and has everything you could need. You can rent a room with a kitchenette or just a microwave, use the fire pits outside and buy snacks at the little home run store in Room 1. During the day you can hike, antique, wait in line at the Phoenicia Diner, pick up donuts, or stay in bed all day and read.

I brought a bag of satsumas and every magazine I could find and spent an entire Saturday morning not checking my phone, not checking my email, reading and peeling tiny oranges one by one. The air is crisp and cold and perfect and all of the big things seem way smaller when you’re falling asleep to wind in the trees and waking up to huge sunrises blazing across an open sky.