It's nearly sunset when Donald and David walk up the road toward the old two-story house on Terwilliger Road, chatting with each other and carrying a bottle of cabernet as a gift. Behind them is a Bedouin-like encampment, a sprinkling of little tent villages in the sloping orchard across the street for the dozens of New Yorkers who have come up to this out-of-the-way nook in the Catskills on a late summer evening.
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