A Few Blocks on Hudson’s Warren Street

Not long ago, I found myself with a few appointments in the City of Hudson with prospective clients.

I lined them up on the same day, and since they were in walking distance of one another, I found a parking space in between. I did a perfect parallel park on the first try, but no one was around to see it.

This was early November, but it had the feel of a January day. It had snowed the day before – more of a nuisance amount than an actual accumulation – but when the snow moved out, a cold front moved in. So it was cold. Really cold. But the sun was out and it wasn’t very windy. I had pulled my heaviest winter coat out of the closet that morning, so I was ready for anything.

The sidewalks were covered in chunks of rock salt and I was wearing boots that were louder than I had realized. It was an eerie calm in Hudson that day. Every step I took seemed to echo, between the crunching of the rock salt and the clomp-clomp noise my boots were making. Usually when I’m out and about, there are people and cars all over. The people I did encounter were as friendly as ever – a quick “good morning” or a smile – but they had places to go, as did I.

I made it to my first appointment just as my fingers and toes were letting me know it was time to get inside. The cup of hot chocolate at Willa’s Cafe and Bakery warmed me up nicely.

Meeting number one down, time to venture back into the cold for number two. Again, I arrived just as the fingers and toes were getting unhappy with me.

At the conclusion of meeting number two, I checked the daily soup at the Cascades restaurant and discovered they had my favorite: Chicken barley. I’ve never had a bad soup there, but the chicken barley surpasses all of the other varieties. My husband was off from work that day so he met me there. We each did the soup and half a sandwich combo. It doesn’t seem like it would be a lot of food, but I’ve never left there hungry.

When I was a kid, Hudson was a place you didn’t go. I don’t know exactly what was supposed to be so scary about it. Maybe because it was the “city” of Hudson.

But in the late 1990’s people started opening up antique shops on Warren Street. Then the restaurants followed. And a bunch of other businesses after that. These days it’s quite tame and filled with interesting things. On this particular trip, I didn’t have time for perusing the shops like I might normally do.

They have several of those places where you find something you didn’t know you needed. Every time I visit Marx Home (kitchenwares and other household goods), for example, I’m tempted to buy another Silpat. I’ve resisted the urge the last few times, instead purchasing things like a new set of towels, an apron, and a splatter shield.

It’s one of those little places (Warren Street is only about a mile long) that makes living upstate a pretty good arrangement. Sure, it was cold. I could live someplace warmer. It’s small. I could live someplace bigger. But this is my place.

With the sun shining down on me that day, what more could I have asked for?

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