Jayne Peterson Larsen
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Research and development on a cold, nasty day on the Beaverkill in New York. The author was particularly pleased his new right hip didn’t present any difficulties.
Gary Dodson
We did not.
There were four anglers clumped together right under the covered bridge where famed angler and fly-tier Theodore Gordon did a lot of his research and development. Gordon did his in the late 19th century, when R&D was a little easier in the sense that getting to the river meant walking or catching a ride from a passing horse and buggy. It would have been unusual to see four anglers anywhere, never mind in a bunch.
We bypassed these researching developers and made our way downstream. The river was high enough to make wading tricky and cold enough, at 48 degrees, to make the trout sluggish and uninterested in participating in R&D.
I managed a couple of bumps on small, heavy nymphs, and Gary caught a handful of dinker browns who, he said, had trouble getting their little mouths around a size 12 soft-hackle wet.
The important thing here was that my new right hip didn’t give me any trouble.
“Let pain be your guide,” said the doctor, Yoda-like, when he took me off the injured reserve list.
And by golly, he was right.
It is traditional to complain about the weather. It is also boring, so I won’t do it, except to say that in the last few weeks sometimes it was cold and sometimes it was unusually hot, and none of it helped.
But it was good R&D.
Example: I was wet-wading the Housatonic and environs by the third week of May. This is the earliest I can recall doing this.
The Hous water temp was at or near 70 on May 20, which made me think it was time to deploy the Woolly Buggers in search of smallmouth bass. Since I had the wrong rod for the job, this was a sloppy and cumbersome maneuver. It resulted in one rainbow trout of modest size, no doubt a recent arrival from the hatchery, and precisely what I was trying to avoid.
The basic hatchery rainbow as plucked from the Blackberry River. This one was hanging around in the most aerated water available, and took a heavy, sparkly Surveyor nymph. Patrick L. Sullivan
But it was momentarily satisfying to have some development to go along with the research.
My friend Dave Edgerly came up, and we took a whack at the Blackberry, where the water temps hadn’t reached the danger level, and we plucked a few from the foamiest, most aerated water we could find.
Years of R&D have taught me that, given the choice between breathing and any other activity, trout opt for the former.
So if things are slow in the long, slow, deep pools, find the white water and watch for a few minutes. Chances are you’ll see trout sticking their heads up, grabbing whatever bugs are coming down the pike.
In a situation like this, I take it straight to them, with a couple of heavy nymphs — one drab, one gaudy — launched straight into the foam.
How big and how heavy?
“Let pain be your guide.” Or, in this case, “let getting hung up on a rock and having to rerig be your guide.”
Start with the big ones. If you’re getting snagged, switch out to the smaller ones. Eventually, through careful application of research and development, you will find the answer.
Or not.
Failure is a big part of R&D. If it starts to get on your nerves, just remember this:
In most endeavors, if you fail 70% of the time, someone will suggest a new line of work.
In baseball, a hitter who fails 70% of the time over a 20-year career goes in the Hall of Fame.
Fly-fishing is like baseball in this sense.
So relax and get on with the R&D, en route to the HoF.
Modern farmhouse designed by Tina Anastasia.
Miki Scarfo
Maybe it is the worn stone paths leading to the back door, the creaky screen doors or the perennial gardens that grow a little wilder every year. Or perhaps it is the everyday, useful objects gathered naturally over time — mismatched chairs, weathered tables and open shelving lined with practical pieces never intended to be decorative.
Whatever the reason, authentic farmhouse style continues to resonate even as the mass-produced version of the trend fades from design circles, chain stores and Pinterest boards.
Classic farmhouse design has endured for hundreds of years because it was never rooted in excess or perfection. Authentic farmhouse homes were built around practicality, comfort and resourcefulness — qualities that naturally made the style budget-friendly long before DIY projects and “the collected look” became part of the design conversation. Furniture was repaired instead of replaced, family pieces were reused for decades, and simple materials like wood, stone and iron aged beautifully over time.
The more recent mass-market version of farmhouse style often turned those authentic elements into a formula. Barn doors, overly distressed furniture, word signs like “Fresh Eggs,” and factory-made “rustic” decor flooded stores and social media feeds. What once felt collected and organic eventually became overly themed and predictable.
Now, many homeowners seem to be gravitating back toward spaces with more individuality and character — homes that feel layered, lived-in and connected to real life rather than carefully staged.
Modern farmhouse designed by Tina Anastasia.Miki Scarfo
Historically, New England farmhouses were designed around utility and survival. Large kitchens served as gathering places and workspaces. Mudrooms handled snowy boots and muddy shoes after chores. Wide porches offered a place to gather after long days outdoors, while barns, sheds and stone walls became extensions of daily life on the land.
That practicality still resonates today.
Some of the most timeless farmhouse details are the ones that cannot be replicated overnight: a scratched pine table handed down through generations; vintage crocks discovered in an old barn; worn baskets from the town dump swap shop; iron hooks, enamelware and garden furniture softened by years of New England weather.
Interior designer Tina Anastasia offers ways to create a more classic farmhouse design.
“The best farmhouse spaces feel rooted in warmth and history, even when they’re newly built,” Anastasia said.
For a farmhouse project she designed in Kent, Connecticut, Anastasia layered weathered stone, antique barnboard and touches of plaid and metal to make the home feel connected to its surroundings.
“It’s all about bringing in materials that contrast with the newness of a space and give it depth and character,” she said.
According to Anastasia, farmhouse style works best when homeowners steer away from trends and focus instead on unique finds with texture, age and practicality.
“These are the pieces that will give the home soul,” she said. “Not everything should look brand new.”
Farmhouses were never created to follow trends or become one; they evolved gradually over generations, building layers of history along the way.
Taiga is located at 119 Warren St. in Hudson.
Provided
“We never wanted Taiga to feel like a traditional restaurant,” Larvin said. “We wanted it to feel emotional, immersive and deeply personal — almost like stepping into another world for a few hours.” That philosophy becomes immediately apparent the moment dinner begins.
Nearly everything at Taiga is made from scratch by Larvin, from delicate handmade dumplings to traditional blini and seasonal dishes inspired by Russian, Slavic and Central Asian influences. The menu changes frequently and reflects Larvin’s Siberian upbringing near Kazakhstan and Mongolia, where food culture naturally blended European and Asian traditions. Many ingredients are sourced locally from Hudson Valley farms, while certain teas, herbs, honey and spices come directly from the Altai region of Siberia — creating a menu that feels simultaneously rooted in two different worlds.
As someone who grew up around Russian food, I expected familiarity. What surprised me was the emotional accuracy of the experience. The dishes had the warmth and intimacy of home cooking while still feeling refined and modern. Larvin credits his grandmother, who taught him to cook from a young age, with instilling an emotional foundation around food. “In our culture, food was never just food,” he said. “It was love, care, generosity, conversation and connection.” That idea seems to define the entire atmosphere of Taiga.
Taiga is located at 119 Warren St. in Hudson.Provided
Unlike many restaurants designed for quick turnover, Taiga encourages people to slow down. Tables glow under candlelight while guests linger for hours over wine, conversation and shared dishes. The restaurant’s Thursday movie nights further deepen that atmosphere, transforming the dining room into what Larvin describes as a “candlelit cinema,” where carefully selected American, European and Russian films play softly in the background. The effect is surprisingly transporting.
At one point during my visit, I looked around the room and realized almost nobody was looking at their phones. People were talking slowly, laughing, sharing plates and leaning into conversations. That sense of emotional presence is precisely what Larvin hoped to create.
“We want people to slow down, disconnect from the outside world and feel warmth, comfort, curiosity and connection,” he said. “Ideally, dinner at Taiga feels less like going to a restaurant and more like being invited into someone’s home late at night.”
Much of the restaurant itself was restored and designed personally by Larvin and Sirko. Vintage furniture, antique objects and much of the photography throughout the space were collected over years of travel or created by Larvin himself.
For many Americans unfamiliar with Russian or Eastern European culture, Taiga offers an introduction that feels intimate rather than stereotypical. But for Russian-speaking visitors, the experience can feel unexpectedly emotional.
There is something moving about hearing familiar music while eating handmade dumplings in a candlelit room in the Hudson Valley. Something about it collapses distance. For a few hours, Hudson felt connected to another world entirely — one built around hospitality, memory and gathering around a table. And perhaps that is what makes Taiga so compelling. It is not simply serving food. It is creating atmosphere, emotion and human connection in a time when many people seem desperately hungry for exactly that.
Taiga is located at 119 Warren St., Hudson. For menus and reservations, visit
taigarestaurant.com
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Flynn Ryan on the Range.
D.H. Callahan
What he got was one heck of a deal.
The owner, who didn’t like seeing the range fall into disrepair, was thrilled that a local kid wanted to revitalize the business. He gave Flynn the first year rent-free, use of all his equipment, a little knowhow and, just like that, the high school junior became a business owner.
That’s where it stopped being easy.
At first, Flynn wasn’t very good at golf. But his personality compels him to dive deep into his interests and make himself an expert. It’s the same drive that pushed him to learn how to trade stocks, futures and cryptocurrency as a teen, spending years failing before turning a profit. That first year on the golf team, he earned the honor of most improved.
The Driving Range is located at 138 Route 44 in Millerton.D.H. Callahan
If you’ve ever been to the range, you know how wonderfully casual it is. It’s the kind of place where nobody cares how good you are. Where people intimidated by the sport can pick up a club and have a great time right next to a seasoned pro. Classic rock pumps through the speakers. There are chairs and a coffee table for people who bring their own picnics and parties. A ragtag collection of clubs invites you to try them out for size. The balls come out of a vending machine. The place is the definition of laid-back.
Flynn’s job seems like the easiest in the world. It is not.
During the warmer months, Flynn gets to the range at 6 a.m., picking up balls in his golf cart. Of course, the back field, where the long balls end up, has to be picked up by hand, one ball at a time. On busy days, that can mean as many as 6,000 balls. Once a week, he mows the whole thing.
It might not sound like all that much, but consider that for most of the year Flynn is working toward a business degree at Old Dominion University in Virginia. When he’s away, his family picks up the slack. His mother, Jennifer, chips balls into the center of the field with a pitching wedge before gathering them up, and his father, Michael, takes care of the mowing. Flynn keeps offering to hire workers, but his parents seem to love working for their entrepreneurial son.
While there’s nothing solid on the books, Flynn dreams of expanding his business with more ranges in the future, as well as hosting events on the Millerton grounds. Until then, he’ll keep the Zeppelin pumping, the ball machine loaded and the grass nicely shorn.
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