Yesterday, Theresa and I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and headed out for a late afternoon walk through Hollyhock Hollow Sanctuary. The Mohawk Hudson Land Conservancy manages this 138-acre preserved wilderness, which has always been one of our favorite places to connect with nature and unwind. During my working life, my office was at Hollyhock Hollow from 1990-2013.

As we began our walk, it was clear that autumn’s peak had already passed. Most of the trees had shed their leaves, leaving a gentle rustling underfoot as we moved along the trails. But the oaks were still holding onto some of their leaves, although their once-brilliant colors had faded to muted browns and tans. There’s something bittersweet about those last leaves hanging on; they seemed to mark the quiet end of fall, standing as one of the season’s final touches before winter settles in.

The sanctuary felt very still today, almost like the warmth had lulled it into a lazy, end-of-season nap. Here and there, we spotted a few Black-capped Chickadees and Tufted Titmice flitting around, breaking the silence with their tiny chirps and rustling wings. They also seemed to enjoy the unexpected warmth, hopping from branch to branch in little bursts of energy.

One of the most fascinating parts of Hollyhock Hollow is the Onesquethaw Creek, a main drainage of the Helderberg Mountains. Today, in many spots, the creek was completely dry, a reminder of how adaptable nature is to the Karst geology here. In some places, the water had simply disappeared, finding its way underground, only to resurface farther along, creating pools of running water scattered throughout. It was surreal to walk along sections where the creek bed was dry, then suddenly come upon a small pool, its surface gently rippling as the underground water emerged.

Theresa and I stopped a few times to listen and just take in the serenity of the place. I don’t think we heard more than a handful of birds, and otherwise, it was just us, the oaks, and the creek, a quiet refuge away from the busy pace of daily life. There’s something restorative about walking through a place that’s both familiar and ever-changing. It was a peaceful reminder of how beautiful even the quieter, less colorful moments of fall can be.

As we headed back to the trailhead, we felt grateful for spaces like Hollyhock Hollow, where we can enjoy the rhythms of the natural world and find a moment of peace together.