I made the above cheery realization today when I made a field trip a couple of miles from my house. I explored the ruins of Yama Farms, an elaborate and ambitious Catskills resort whose glory days were the years 1913-1939. There's a terrific website about Yama Farms here. I hiked and crashed through streams and scrambled through brush, eventually finding myself at the ruins of the Tea House over the lake. Mind you, seventy years ago there were manicured paths, fences, and real Asian Ladies (tm) (as Yama Farms had an elaborate Japanese flavor) -- the entire resort was Done Up to the Nines. There's nary a hint of that now. The lake is gone. The verdant gardens and stone paths and structures have returned to forest as though they never existed. Then and Now (pic on the right is mine, taken today):
The greenish piece of wood on the lower left is a piece of stair. A few of the Yama Farms houses remain, further up the hill (I tried driving up to them but I think I alarmed the people there). Some of the houses are abandoned. Last weekend I made a preliminary run with boyfriend Steve, sister Lucy, and friend Stella, and we found the old Yama Farms Playhouse on the upper grounds:
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