If A Tree Falls in Saugerties, I Want to See It!

Yesterday, Catherine and I drove up to Saugerties, NY to meet our friends Dom and Michelle for our first "empty nest" getaway . . . when we arrived, we parked in town, had a beer and some food at Stella's Station and then we drove across the bridge and unpacked and got set up in our AirBnB; that evening, we all walked back across the bridge which spanned the Esopus Creek, and headed back towards town-- and right after crossing the bridge, we stopped at the Diamond Mills Hotel, an expansive and swanky venue overlooking the Esopus Creek Falls, and we sat out on the patio and had drinks right above the roar of the cascading water and the scene would have been idyllic if it wasn't for two trees balanced precariously on the edge of the precipice-- we desperately wanted to see these trees plummet over the falls, but they had obviously been there a while and the chances of them falling in the brief window of time that we sat on the patio was slim-- especially since we weren't going to eat there . . . too expensive-- so after some speculation on how long the trees had been perched on the brink, I went and asked a random server for some information and he said the big one had been there since before he started working at the place, so several months and the small tree had been there a few weeks and then he said something that renewed my faith in the universality of the human spirit: "Man, I would love to see that big one fall tonight" and I concurred with him-- wholeheartedly concurred-- and then our fabulous server returned and they asked if we needed anything else, and we asked them if they could possibly make both the trees plummet over the falls and they laughed and said another line that confirmed the ubiquitous essence of the human experience-- they said, "I just work here" and on that note, we paid the check and headed to town, where we ate excellent Mexican food at the convivial and pub-like Main Street Restaurant-- and as far as we know, those trees are still hanging on for dear life.