![The Leite Sisters Hike The AT with Caterpillars And Cinderella](https://millertonnews.com/media-library/sisters-petra-at-left-in-photo-and-sadie-leite-at-the-entrance-to-one-of-the-trails-leading-to-the-connecticut-section-of-the.jpg?id=48189996&width=980&quality=90)
Sisters Petra, at left in photo, and Sadie Leite, at the entrance to one of the trails leading to the Connecticut section of the Appalachian Trail. Photo submitted
I don’t really know where the idea came from. There are a lot of sources I can point to. My family has a house in Salisbury, Conn. I often see thru-hikers stomping toward ice cream at LaBonne’s market.
Mostly, the lack of profound reasoning behind my decision to spend two nights on the Appalachian Trail (AT) with my sister, Petra, rests in the real, boring explanation. When I came home from college, there was this awkward space. I had three weeks before I drove to Boston, Mass., to settle in a house for the summer.
I’d done enough of sitting in parking lots with high school friends. When I suggested hiking to Petra, she agreed and, to my absolute advantage, she planned most of it.
Our mom dropped us off at some point along Route 4. We got our picture taken and started walking.
The AT is a trail stretching almost 2,200 miles between Georgia and Maine, passing through 14 states. The brave, sturdy individuals who hike the whole path are called thru-hikers. They’re either “nobos” (north-bound from Georgia to Maine) or “sobos” for the opposite.
Thru-hikers will hike 12 to 20 miles a day. Usually, it’s more like 20. Petra and I planned 6 for day one.
Petra is a lot of things. She’s a rising sophomore who is pre-med and a math major. She’s the other sibling in my family with red hair— though it’s lighter and straighter than mine. I’m not sure how people mistake us for twins, but I understand when they think she’s older. Petra is an EMT. She’s decisive, a little taller than me, and when we hiked, she always led.
We sat in the dirt, dodging caterpillars that fell from the sky. Creepy crawly things in places you can’t see is worse than wood chips stuck in socks. Petra took out a Sloppy Joe mix.
We were so excited for our first trail-cooked meal. However, it was inedible. It may have been our fault for forgetting the ketchup needed as an add-in.
Over the next 3 miles, we crossed brooks, passed a thru-hiker who lost his self-awareness for stench long-ago, and side-stepped boulders.
Pine Swamp Brook Shelter was quiet. We were tired, so we read some messages in the notebook left in the lean-to to keep us from passing out before 6 p.m.
A lean-to is a structure built at most campsites to sleep in, and they often have notebooks for hikers to write in.
“I’ve had two moths enter my mouth without permission! I hate Connecticut the same I always have,” Cinderella wrote.
Certainly, Cinderella could be a respectable name, but I’d bargain it’s a trail name — names gifted to thru-hikers for a personality trait or a funny story. Booty-shorts, Oomo and MadDog also wrote in the book.
Petra and I don’t have enough experience to have had someone title us, so we used a childhood memory for our signature. Once we dressed as Salt and Pepper for Halloween.
The next day, we had 11 miles ahead of us. It started off OK, until I learned walking uphill is as painful as walking down.
As we shuffled down the last stretch to our campsite, I thought my feet wouldn’t carry me. Crawling was a suggestion.
I made it because you always do. Until you don’t. Then you don’t make it.
My feet were puffy, purple, blistered. I laughed at myself. Petra approached, confused. Then I cried, she hugged me, and I stopped.
In the tent later we watched a television show before a sleepless night. We never learned about the dampness or how hard the forest floor really is. Petra’s head was closer to the flashing lights, and she turned back, notably, and stared at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Just checking on you,” she said.
Though I’m not going to detail it, we did get out. Our mom picked us up on the side of a different road.
I’m fully sure I decided on this adventure because I wanted something to do, but there’s the question of why I needed to fill an awkward space I could’ve just slept through. I could’ve enjoyed a summer break before returning to Boston, where I’ll work three jobs.
Though turning 20 in March seems widely unrelated, it really isn’t. Most of my life right now feels like an awkward three-week break at home in Connecticut between two things happening.
Hiking the AT was beautiful, painful and buggy. I came away with something I’ve known: My sister is the best. That’s what’s important now, and maybe I’ll continue with unjustified ideas just to learn I already knew their simple whys.
Panacea’s Rockaway oysters on the half-shell are procured daily and served fresh. Accompanying the oysters is a classic bowl of vinegar and a house-made raspberry mignonette.
Arriving at Panacea feels like arriving at a friend’s house. A charming blue exterior, with a large patio and string lights, surrounds a welcoming and warm interior. Since the restaurant opened a little over two weeks ago, I have made not one, but three trips, and every time has been just as enjoyable as the first.
Upon entering, one is greeted by a host’s stand in a small front dining room, as well as a handful of tables and a little bar tucked into the corner. Moving back through a small hallway, hosting two gender non-specific bathrooms, there is another dining room, larger but still just as cozy. The entire place is made up of dark, caramel colored wood, with beams stretched across a white ceiling, a fireplace tucked in the back dining room and eclectic artwork smattered around. From the back dining room diners enjoy a glimpse into the kitchen, clean and busy, and an enclave where one can see the finishing touches being put on dishes before being whisked away. All of these parts, clearly lovingly curated by Jake Somers and his fiancee/co-chef Khendum Namgyal (who is responsible for the absolutely unmatched pasta), come together into a very pleasant whole.
I was pleased to see a wonderful cocktail list, the absolute champion of which is the Chef’s Slightly Dirty Martini (which I ordered extra dirty, my personal preference). Expertly made, served in a chilled glass, it was well worth the $18 price tag. I had no fewer than two on every visit, and will be going back for a solo martini/oyster date. The wine selection, though respectable, remained untouched on my end due to an unfortunate sulfite allergy. Panacea also has a mocktail list, which I believe should be the norm, including a very interesting take on a Shirley Temple. Their beer list is regrettably small, considering the availability of craft beers in this area, but I think that can be forgiven.
That being said, the food is the absolute standout. Panacea prides itself on locally sourced produce — right now Paley’s, Maitra, Hepworth and 5 Acre farms, but soon to include others — and they use it in masterful ways. Their heirloom tomato appetizer with housemade whipped ricotta is outstanding — the ricotta alone had us discreetly licking the plate, not even to mention the glory that is the tomatoes. Other appetizers include Rockaway raw oysters with a breathtaking raspberry mignonette — the waitress had barely set them down before they had been finished off — and the Fire Fritto! a shrimp and calamari dish with local veggies that was so delicious our entire party of six was ordering their own. One of whom, bizarrely, is on an entirely protein diet, and was quite pleased to find that the appetizer was more than generous with the shrimp and calamari.
The appetizers give way into a limited but far reaching entree list, the star of which is the house made pasta. The Malfadine was perfect. Long, curlicue noodles perfectly al dente, a generous portion of shrimp (halved, making them fold perfectly into every bite) and a subtle crunch of fresh basil all enveloped in an incredible tomato sauce. Also on the pasta list is a rigatoni- perfect noodles, melt in your mouth pork shoulder, and sauce I would happily eat all on its own. I did find myself wishing for maybe one piece of crusty bread, but only because it seemed too tragic to leave any of the sauce on both dishes behind. On my last visit, I managed to tear myself away from the pasta and ordered the Catch of the Day, which was a Bronzino. Crispy, delicate skin, flavorful and juicy meat, beautifully served with tender beans and a sauce which rendered me speechless.
Dessert is necessary in every form, and Panacea does not flounder at the finish line. Every dessert went above and beyond, but the chocolate mousse is a must have, even for those lacking a sweet tooth. It is the definition of decadence, and I found it best paired with their espresso martini, which is also a thing of beauty. Made with fresh espresso, it has a wonderful bite with an edge of liquor and a hint of sweetness to ease the palate.
All in all, Panacea is a star. The entire experience is perfectly curated, the staff are knowledgeable and warm, and the owners are welcoming and friendly. They’ve recognized us on every return visit, and seem to make a point to personally greet every table. Their skill in crafting these dishes is both a breath of fresh air for Amenia and something we should all be thankful to experience. I cannot wait until my next visit, and I especially cannot wait to see what they do in the coming seasons.
Bottle of Spring Hill cabernet franc with watercolor label art by Barcelona native Santi Moix.
Wine finds its perfect pairing in art at Spring Hill Vineyards in New Preston, Conn., where site-specific sculptural installations function as the visual feast to complement a focused lineup of thoughtfully crafted wines.
Guided by an ethos for quality over quantity, four wines—a light, bright estate-grown cabernet franc, sippable unoaked chardonnay, lean and refreshing Cayuga white, and a sweet rose of pinot noir—make up Spring Hill’s current wine list.
“We don’t want to be big, we want to be good,” said winemaker and farm manager Andrew Johnson as he swirled a glass of 2017 cab franc, currently being poured for tastings. Echoing with a teasing laugh the late-70s Masson vow to “sell no wine before its time,” Johnson explained that the winery’s best product—a deep, velvety Marquette—is still awaiting ‘its time’ since being vinted in 2021 and spending 14 months maturing in Hungarian oak barrels.
A similar impetus has driven—and continues to drive—the careful curatorial decisions that built a compelling outdoor art exhibit of the wooded glade that serves as Spring Hill’s gathering space.
Before founders Stephanie and Tim Ingrassia planted their first grapevines or artworks, the site that would become Spring Hill Vineyards was a hay farm that dated back to the 18th century; reinterpreted vestiges and suggestions of this history represent the core aesthetic being cultivated.
View of Spring Hill through a window in the Bee Brook Grotto, housed inside a 1940’s grain silo.Sava Marinkovic
“Everything here has had a past life,” according to Stephanie Ingrassia—the modernized barn was built from 150 year old beams and siding, the restrooms from a train car. Over the main space towers a refitted 1940s silo, original to the site, whose cracked doors invite visitors to make the thirty foot climb to its crown grotto—a scintillating surprise of sinuous forms and gleaming materials that is meant to feel, according to artist Randy Polumbo, “like a shared memory from the future.”
And the facilitation of sharing—of memories, moments, and the space provided—is what Wine Tasting Program Manager Emma Terhaar describes as Spring Hill’s true mission.
“It’s a community space to be shared,” said Terhaar, summarizing the Ingrassias’ vision for a place where residents of rural Connecticut could gather and mingle with their community. “It’s a destination worth coming to, for whatever reason,” Terhaar averred, whether for a glass of wine, a gander of art, or just to relax with friends and family.
Spring Hill Vineyards is the annual host of Spring Hill Arts Gathering (SHAG) and maintains SHAG’s permanent collection. Upcoming events include dancing and drinks for Salsa Night on Sunday, Aug. 25; a croquet tournament guided by United States Croquet Association’s Preston Stuart on Sunday, Sept. 8; and a celebration of Sept. 22’s autumnal equinox featuring food, yoga, meditation, live music, and—a given for all things coming into balance—plenty of wine.
Attendees mingle at the opening exhibit at Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, N.Y. on Friday, Aug. 16.
The Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, renowned for its cutting-edge environmental research, recently unveiled a new art installation, showcasing the vibrant synergy between art and science. On Friday, Aug. 16, a small group of invited guests that included patrons, donors, trustees, board members, and other friends of the institute, were led through a private tour of the exhibition by Cary Institute President Joshua Ginsberg. The exhibition features work from staff, programs run off-site through the institute, and the work of artists from the Canoo Hills Creative Arts Residency, a program that has nurtured creative expression at the intersection of art and ecological science since its inception in 2009.
The residency program has hosted 11 artists over the years, but was paused during the COVID-19 pandemic as the institute underwent significant renovations. The building was originally designed by Malcolm Wells, regarded as the father of modern earth-sheltered architecture. The renovations led by Bruce Becker, an expert in energy efficiency and historic restoration, incorporate principles from LEED and the Living Building Challenge, achieving Zero Carbon, Zero Energy, and Core Green standards. The building now boasts an Energy Use Intensity Rating of 61 kBtu/ft², making it 48% more energy efficient than a typical office building. In other words, the building itself is a work of art and has restored Wells’ original vision of creating a near-zero energy building. It is a perfect complement to the art it now houses.
Curated by Susan Burks, a recommendation from Jack Banning, husband of former Board Chair, Irene Banning, the exhibition is thoughtfully designed to resonate with the institute’s mission and vision. Burks aimed to incorporate “local where possible, artists who worked with scientists, scientists who were artists, and artists inspired by ecological science.” The result is a collection that is both approachable and profoundly connected to the natural world.
The Cary Institute’s commitment to integrating art into its scientific mission is a reminder that knowledge and creativity are not separate endeavors, but intertwined paths towards a deeper understanding of our world. This ethos is reflected not only in the individual works that now adorn the walls and halls of the institute but also in the overall atmosphere of the newly renovated building — a space where art and science coalesce to inspire thought, dialogue, and action. As Ginsberg aptly shared his vision for the exhibition: “What we didn’t want is things that were literal. We wanted it to be inspirational. Because in the end, I think both art and science should be inspirational.”
To arrange a tour of the Cary Institute, contact Joshua Ginsberg at ginsbergj@caryinstitute.org.