Leaf-Peeping and Lincoln’s Legacy: A Perfect Vermont Day

After a long night of weather delays and reroutes, I finally made it to Albany around one in the morning—tired but determined to make the most of my 30-hour layover. When I woke up, the plan was simple: rent a car, chase the fall colors, and soak in a little bit of small-town New England charm.

I headed northeast on Route 7A toward Bennington, Vermont. The drive alone was worth the trip—winding roads lined with maples that looked like they were on fire, bursts of gold and crimson around every bend.

Just as I entered Bennington, the town clock struck noon, and all the church bells began to chime at once. I snapped a picture of the clock to remember the moment—it felt like the whole town was welcoming me in with a song.

I stopped for lunch in town and had a cozy bowl of corn chowder that warmed me right up. Then I visited the Bennington Battle Monument, built to honor Vermont’s Centennial—100 years after becoming a state. Sadly, the elevator was closed, but the view from below was still spectacular, surrounded by history and autumn’s brilliant palette.

With lunch in my belly and curiosity in full swing, I continued north toward Manchester, Vermont taking the scenic route.

What a surprise that little town turned out to be! I had no idea that Robert Todd Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s eldest son, built his summer estate there. His story fascinated me—he made his fortune working with George Pullman, creating the luxurious Pullman railcars that were essentially the private jets of the early 1900s. Wealthy travelers would have their custom cars attached to trains, complete with schedules tailored to wherever they wanted to go.

Robert’s home, Hildene, was breathtaking—grand, elegant, and filled with echoes of a different time. Walking through the house felt like stepping into an American version of Downton Abbey. There were servants’ quarters tucked upstairs, a butler’s room, a butler’s pantry linking to the kitchen, and even the dining area where staff took their meals. The design carries that very British sense of order—an “upstairs/downstairs” world that still lingered culturally just a century after the Revolutionary War.

As I walked toward the Pullman car, a single golden leaf drifted from a branch all the way to the ground. I stopped and watched it fall—mesmerized by the simple beauty of it. That leaf didn’t even exist a year ago. In one short season it grew, lived, and died on that tree, and now it would return to the earth and begin the cycle again. Such a gentle reminder of how even the smallest things are part of something beautifully continuous.

Inside the house, one detail absolutely stopped me: they hold one of only two Lincoln top hats with firm provenance. And beside that history sits the actual mirror from Abraham Lincoln’s White House bedroom dressing area. Docents suppose—since this was his bedroom mirror—that it’s the very glass he looked into as he readied himself on the night he left for Ford’s Theatre. Standing before it, knowing his reflection once filled that pane, felt surreal—like touching the edge of living history.

I learned that the property stayed in the Lincoln family until 1975, when Robert’s great-granddaughter Peggy Lincoln Beckwith passed away. Abraham Lincoln’s final direct descendant died in 1985—a bittersweet close to an incredible lineage.

After touring Hildene, I wandered downtown Manchester for coffee, browsed an old bookstore and a toy shop, then began my drive back toward New York, savoring the last of the daylight through the mountains. I stopped at a charming covered bridge, snapped a photo by the “Welcome to New York” sign, and picked up fresh raspberries and carrots from a roadside stand for the rest of my trip.

It was one of those days that filled my heart with gratitude—for the freedom my job gives me, for the beauty of this world, and for the stories I get to collect along the way. Even when I can’t be with my girls, I love knowing I’m gathering adventures and little bits of wonder to share with them when I get home.

Because truly, every flight brings me to another reminder of how extraordinary the ordinary world can be.

, a window back in time to the golden age of rail travel.

It was one of those days that filled my heart with gratitude — for the freedom my job gives me, for the beauty of this world, and for the stories I get to collect along the way. Even when I can’t be with my girls, I love knowing I’m gathering adventures and little bits of wonder to share with them when I get home.

Because truly, every flight brings me to another reminder of how extraordinary the ordinary world can be.