located just two hours outside of new york city, burrowed in the catskill mountains, and complete with a dog run for guests with furry children (that's us!). emerson had me at the smell of a wood burning fire and treats upon entrance for sam wiggins. hats and gloves were on a drying schedule like rotisserie chickens.
the jacuzzi tub was big enough to swim a lap, though the jets sort of just gyrate your whole body which proved to be awkward and hilarious for most of the trip. sam was horrified to enter the bathroom as i'm pretty sure he thought the tub was actually eating me.
in all seriousness, emerson was spotless and i hope to make a yearly tradition out of it.
ps: to woodstock for breakfast.