photography: John Dolan
What better place to snuggle and stay warm than the back of a horse-drawn wagon as it wanders through a Candlelight Evening, held at the historic Farmer’s Museum. |
You can learn a lot from geese. Under the crisp blue sky of morning, hundreds of them crowd onto the spacious white crystal expanse of the early winter ice crust on Otsego Lake. They've got the long finger lake that rubs up against Cooperstown village all to themselves. On dry land in the village, so do we. Some friends and I are sitting in a cozy coffee shop, our synthetic down jackets draped over the chair backs, planning our day in a town wholly different from its hyperactive summertime self.
The usual Christmas drumroll has long been beating in our ears by this, the third week in December. With no guarantee of a white Christmas in the South, I decided to meet some New York friends in a classic wintry setting where I'd be sure to need gloves, a scarf, a heavy coat, and plenty of hot beverages. The village of Cooperstown and its annual Christmas Candlelight Evening was our destination. I would need all those warm clothes to wander the 1845 village replica, despite pots of steaming wassail at every turn.
photography: John Dolan
With their simple winter combo of warm blankets and steaming cups of wassail, these festivalgoers might as well be period actors. |
The drive from Albany introduces the surprising beauty of the central New York landscape. White ribbons of water—the bigger ones flowing, the smaller frozen—punctuate the forested hillsides beside the road. The tiny village of Cherry Valley (they call most towns here "villages," and it seems appropriate) pops up about a half hour before Cooperstown. There, the Main Street Studio exhibits photography, sculpture, and paintings from regional and New York City artists. A low-slung, intimate restaurant, Alex & Ika, promises diners locally produced, thoughtful dishes.
But my friends are waiting, so I continue over the hills that will finally drop me on the shores of Otsego Lake. From my vantage point I look five miles down the water-filled valley, past a few bumpy shoreline knuckles to its terminus. Among the trees I spy rooftops and the telltale cupola of the grand Otesaga Resort Hotel of Cooperstown. The geese beat me here, and they're already lounging on the ice that fringes the lakeshore.
photography: John Dolan
Back on Main Street a fit-and-trim Santa welcomes children to his corner office for free gift-receiving consultations. |
photography: John Dolan
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photography: John Dolan
Doubleday Field is part of the attraction for leagues of summer visitors, but locals hold the majority for the majestic winter and annual holiday celebrations. |
In summer, hordes of baseball fanatics and lake recreationists converge on Cooperstown. TheBaseball Hall of Fame is here, along with historic Doubleday Field and more per capita baseball memorabilia shops than season home runs by the Babe. But in winter the only thing out on the diamonds is snow, the geese have the run of the lake, and the streets twinkle with Christmas lights in preparation for the Holiday Tour.
Although most galleries, shops, restaurants, and B&Bs remain open through December, most tourists have given up on the town for the winter. In the Cooperstown Diner on Main Street, residents can eat their breakfast in peace. We join Earl, a newly arrived local (seven years and he's still regarded as "new"), for a plate and cup of hot coffee.
photography: John Dolan
The tiny Cooperstown Diner on Main Street is the place to go for comfort food and local knowledge, as long as you don’t pry. |
Before Earl can take off his jacket, the diner owner has made sure he wants the regular: oatmeal. After enjoying a bowl of oatmeal (of course), Earl points us in the direction of the Mt. Otsego Ski Shop a few miles outside town.
photography: John Dolan
Behind the historic Otesaga Resort Hotel, a couple takes advantage of the fresh snow on the local golf course, which becomes a cross-country ski venue in winter. |
Once the snows lay down an initial blanket, the fairways on the town's golf course become rolling meadows for cross-country skiing. Gliding through a little powder beside the lake that inspired famous local James Fenimore Cooper isn't a bad way to see a town. We could even ski out to the grandiose brick Fenimore Art Museum that houses one of the most extensive collections of North American folk and Indian art in the country.We trade the skinny skis back in for our car and drive out of town. While the more distant Hudson River Valley is better known for its antiquing, we've got a few leads for out-of-the-way shopping finds. The most impressive is Wood Bull Antiques. The bright orange "ART" sign outside seems to cheer us on as we approach the rambling barn through a light gauze of falling snow. Inside, rugs, furniture, tableware, and who-knows-what-else extend up through the layers of floors and staircases. Contemporary urban music beats indicate what we'll later discover—the owner is a transplant art collector from the City. After briefly losing one another in the various levels, we regroup in time to head back for the Candlelight Evening at the Farmer's Museum.
photography: John Dolan
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We can almost see the light-strung trees and luminaria-lined streets from town as we drive toward the Farmer's Museum. Hundreds of people, mostly from surrounding areas, are already wandering through the historic village. The temperature is dropping, snow is falling, and wassail is flowing, just like I'd hoped. We bundle up and head for the bonfire where carolers entertain the circle of bright faces basking in the orange glow. When it gets too cold, we take a seat in the chapel and listen to live Christmas music. Candles in the windows of the buildings provide the only light. It's so Christmas yet so simple.
On our way back to our heated rooms, we pass the lake and remember the geese–still out there, still honking, still warm.
