Eagles Soar At Wildflower Farms. So Will You.

Wildflower Farms, an Auberge property in New York’s Hudson Valley, is the antidote to city life. Discover why it’s on everyone’s hot list.

Ryan puts our bags in the back of the motorized cart. Our bungalow is a short walk away, but it’s drizzling, so we welcome the ride. After a few social niceties, ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Is this a girls’ trip?’ ‘Are you sisters?’ Ryan slams the brakes. “I just saw a bald eagle—want to see his nest?” My jaw drops. Does my 16-year-old niece want to meet Taylor Swift? “Yes!” we say in unison. Ryan kicks the cart into gear.

So begins our wildlife-filled weekend at Wildflower Farms. My friend and I have come to this Hudson Valley resort to relax before the upcoming chaos of our sons’ high school graduations. I’m happy, but it’s a bittersweet happiness. That we see a bald eagle guarding her nest within minutes of our arrival seems timely. Symbolic, even.

I’m on the cusp of a major life change—the dreaded empty nest. As melodramatic as it sounds, this eagle sighting becomes a soppy, emotional metaphor for my stay. I have three days in the Hudson Valley to contemplate it.

The Hudson Valley—a Natural Getaway

The Hudson Valley is New York’s fastest-growing hot spot. Boutique hotels pop up like spring daffodils, luring New Yorkers from the concrete jungle. Only 90 minutes from the city, it’s a natural getaway. With deep roots in farming and agriculture, the Hudson Valley has some of the oldest wine-producing areas in the country. It has a thriving food and farmer’s market scene and challenging mountains to hike. The scenery is so bucolic it inspired the Hudson River School, a group of painters whose muse was the verdant landscape.

The Hudson Valley is a destination for art and nature lovers, history buffs, and gourmands. Wildflower Farms couldn’t be better placed to satisfy them all. But be warned. Guests will be hard-pressed to leave the property. The only way to do it all is to build in more time.

The Birth of an Art Movement

One reason guests flock to Wildflower Farms is its delicate balance between indoor and outdoor living. Another is the chance to walk in the footsteps of 19th-century artists like Thomas Cole and Frederic Edwin Church. Among other Hudson River School artists, their romantic vision of the landscape was born and cultivated in this very place. Focusing on three themes of Americana: discovery, exploration, and settlement, the movement’s goal was to portray a place where humans and nature could peacefully coexist.

Although Wildflower Farms caters to the well-heeled city crowd, the parking lot license plates prove people come from farther afield. Black, navy and gray apparel appear to be the uniform of choice, offset by squeaky clean, neon-colored Hokas. Despite the moody apparel and dark skies, Wildflower Farms is inherently bright. The staff seems to be living under an ever-moving sunbeam. Chipper, but not annoyingly so. Welcoming, but not overly eager.

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The Aerie

Ryan is spot-on. We find the eagle sitting in a tall Eastern White Pine beside her nest. Thankfully, Ryan had the wherewithal to stop at our cottage so we could grab our binoculars. They aren’t necessary. The aerie is so big LeBron James could use it for his pre-game nap. Fun fact: aerie is a fancy word for eagle’s nest. I have Will Shortz to thank for this tidbit of bird trivia. It’s one of his favorite New York Times crossword clues.

I see the eagle’s beady, honey-colored eyes through the lens, but I don’t need them to feel her intense stare. Is she counting down the weeks until her eaglets fly away? Is she sad? What will she do with all her downtime once they leave? I told you this would get soppy. Don’t judge until your kids fly the coop.

Welcome to Grand Central Station

An oversized open-air central firepit area called The Great Porch is the entry point of Wildflower Farms. It’s also the resort’s social and culinary hub. We go there for morning cappuccinos, rosé-infused lunches, and pre-dinner cocktails—all complemented by majestic Shawagunk mountain views. Banquettes circle the ever-blazing firepit. Should it be chilly, like during our stay, woolly blankets are within reach.

One morning, a black Suburban ambles up to reception. The trunk pops open, and two big doodles tumble out. Within minutes, water bowls, treats, and two cushy dog beds are placed fireside. The doodles look unfazed—as if this kind of treatment happens wherever they go. I notice their matching Valentino Rockstud collars. Maybe it does.

You Belong Among the Wildflowers

Sixty-five freestanding cabins and cottages are scattered throughout Wildflower Farms’ 140 acres in Gardiner, New York. Deceptively simple from the outside, each cabin is a highly curated gem. I can’t stop humming Tom Petty’s classic tune. I belong here.

The cabins are a destination unto themselves—beautifully appointed and chock full of welcoming treats, like shears for cutting flowers and a miniature glass vase to display them. The Bower Cabins are situated under a canopy of trees and have outdoor spaces to admire the scenery, birdwatch, and listen to the sounds of nature.

Meadow Cottages have vaulted wooden ceilings, wood-burning fireplaces, and private back gardens with daybeds facing the meadow. One morning, instead of racing to breakfast, I open the sliding glass doors to take in the breeze and the view. At Wildflower Farms, I’m constantly reminded to slow down.

Cabin interiors mirror the landscape in ways that would make the Hudson River School painters proud. A moss-green velvet couch sits on top of a stormy-blue patterned rug. A patchwork quilt that looks anything but old-fashioned is draped across a contemporary wood-framed bed. It’s Modern Americana. The rooms are light-filled and airy, with local artisan touches, hand-chosen books, and an inviting window seat to read them.

What to do at Wildflower Farms

Wildflower Farms Resort is like a sleepaway camp for grown-ups. Crafty on-site activities include watercolor classes, floral focaccia baking, botanical mixology, and pressed flower pottery workshops. There are opportunities to make body oils and perfume, shear sheep, take a sound bath, and unlock the astrological secrets of your birth chart.

Off-property activities are equally enchanting: fly fishing, hiking, mountain climbing, and cycling for the active-minded are offset by the treasure trove of wellness experiences at the Thistle Spa. For those who’d rather relax, Body Botany, Restorative River Stone Massage, and the Remodeling Facial are a few of the many treatments they offer. I learn that the spa uses ‘hand-harvested, small-batch oils with floral remedies.’ Bravo, Wildflower, I expect nothing less.

Two outdoor hot tubs, an indoor pool, a relaxation area with platform daybeds, and a sauna are dreamy ways to pass the day, rain or shine. Complimentary yoga classes and a gym are offered in a nearby cottage overlooking a quiet pond. For those who want to splurge, a sailboat can take up to six guests on the Hudson River for a decadent champagne picnic.

Farm to Pocket to Table

Set in the heart of the Hudson Valley, the traditional farm aspects of the property don’t feel contrived. Visitors can opt into as much or as little ‘farm life’ as they’d like. For instance, each morning, guests are invited to feed the farm animals and collect eggs. Later, they can take the eggs to Clay, Wildflower’s restaurant, and have them prepared ‘your way’ for breakfast.

I close my eyes and delicately reach under a fat hen, trying to decide ‘which way’ I want my eggs prepared for breakfast. It’s still raining. But if the chickens aren’t bothered, then neither am I. Move over, Sarah Jessica Parker; I can be a farmer when I want to be. I’m baffled but not surprised when one pushy woman fills her pockets with six eggs, leaving many of us eggless. I resist the urge to accidentally bump into her shiny Moncler vest, hoping karma will prevail.

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Restaurant Clay

Clay, named for the rich soil where Wildflower’s vegetables are grown, serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Its enormous yet intimate dining room has a stone fireplace, vaulted ceilings, and a unique seating layout.

Over our three days, I’m determined to sit in them all: the low, curved-back chairs that flank the central fireplace, the high-top tables with a bird’s-eye view into the kitchen, and the convivial banquettes that line the outer walls. Rugs, throw pillows, and upholstery patterns that shouldn’t look good together somehow do and reinforce why I will never be an interior designer.

My traveling companion is plant-based. Executive Sous Chef Kyle Chandler takes this as a personal challenge, creating culinary magic with plants, flowers, and vegetables. I’m secretly envious of her flower and herb-infused Pad Thai entrée, a dish created solely for her that evening. We share the light-as-air sweet potato tempura served with togarashi aioli and basil three nights in a row. Yes, they were that good.

Other menu highlights include farm-roasted carrots with tamarind and watermelon radish, and halibut accompanied by Brussels sprouts, pecans, and lemon. Yet, I will forever associate the humble olive oil pancake with our stay. The size of a standard-issue frisbee, topped with berries and a large dollop of lemon chantilly, it has forever ruined me for breakfast. I have no doubt that everyone who orders it swears it’s too big to finish—then completely devours it.

My Best Friend, Merlin

The rain allows me to experience Wildflower Farms in ways I didn’t anticipate. Instead of sitting by the pool with my nose buried in a book, I open the wide glass doors of our cabin and do pilates while watching mist fall on the meadow. I spot the eagle in a distant tree, this time with her mate. ‘Who’s guarding the nest?’ I wonder. Reading my mind, she takes flight. I watch her wingspan unfold in absolute awe as she soars over my head and out of frame.

The weather doesn’t stop us from exploring the property’s meandering trails. I use my Merlin Bird ID app without fear of ridicule, as my kids are hundreds of miles away. At one point, Merlin picks up seven different bird species chirping at once. If there’s ever a place to embrace your inner birder, Wildflower Farms is that place.

Yet, birds aren’t the only wildlife we see in the Hudson Valley. On one of our morning walks, a large cotton-tailed deer hops across our path. Another afternoon, we see a gray fox on the hunt. I revert to my love of collective nouns and discover that a group of eagles can be called an aerie, a convocation, or a soar. A group of foxes is called a skulk. A female fox is called a vixen, and male foxes are called dogs (how apt!). Who has this coveted collective noun naming job? I want to apply.

The Empty Nest

On our last morning at Wildflower Farms, I’m sitting fireside at The Great Porch when a spectacular thing happens—the sun comes out. I throw off my woolly blanket, abandon my cappuccino, and dash outside to take photos. The clouds part, and a double rainbow ekes its way through them. Gold cascades over the meadow, lighting the tips of the grasses. I see the doodles running amok. The rainbows arch over Wildflower Farms in a way that looks AI-generated. I watch them until they disappear.

There’s only one thing to do before the drive home. I grab my binoculars and walk towards the aerie, excitedly anticipating my last encounter with the eagles. I wait and wait, but they’re a no-show. The waiting gives me time to wallow in my soon-to-be empty nest sadness. Maybe it’s time to look at it in a new light.

An empty nest will give me more opportunities to visit places like Wildflower Farms. More chances to observe animals in their natural habitats (including ones wearing Chloé and Celine). And more chances to explore, discover, and settle—just like the Hudson River School painters did over a century ago.

Upwards and onwards. It’s time to let go.