Before it was lost, overgrown in the Catskills undergrowth, Bréifne Woods was the place my family most belonged, most of us, for a long time, rooted as it was in New Stradone.
The first thing you should know about New Stradone is that it was not built; it accrued, in layers too numerous to count. Likewise, everything in the village, animate or inanimate or somewhere in between, grew each year as the world extruded yet another coat of hardship, joy, and passion upon it. Every bit of rock and soil and every roughly hewn hand. Every beer-soaked drip mat and every beer-soaked tradesman. New Stradone did not appear in the Catskill Mountains out of thin air, like some nicotine-stained, blue-collar Brigadoon knockoff. It took layers upon layers.
Most people never noticed the layers. The summer visitors were too busy coating their outsides with Coppertone and their insides with Bushmills, and the year-rounders, well, they had lost all perspective, having been layered over for generations. I noticed the layers. I always did. Long before I had the words to describe them, I sensed them. That is perhaps the only benefit of spending so much time alone. It allows you to take stock of what’s around you, what’s underfoot, and what you take into your lungs, your eyes, and your ears.
About the author
Kevin Ferguson is the writer, director and producer of the PBS documentary The Irish Catskills: Dancing at the Crossroads, which has been aired in more than 160 markets. He spent his summers in the Catskills, where his mother, Teresa Smith, from County Cavan, Ireland, met his father, Bob Ferguson, from Scranton, PA. Kevin is a professional photographer and writer. He has written for The New York Times, Forbes, NPR, and about two dozen other media outlets. See his portfolio here.
