
Beyond the sixteen guest rooms, the property unfolds into a collection of spaces made for spending time - a living room filled with books and art, quiet corners for reading, a rooftop overlooking the mountains, a sauna, sprawling gardens, and Restaurant Matilda just downstairs.
There’s no particular way to spend a day here. Have breakfast and disappear for a hike. Take a book outside and lose an afternoon in the mountain air. Sit by the fire longer than you intended. Have dinner at Matilda and wander upstairs when the night is over.
The Henson feels less like a hotel you pass through and more like a place you can settle into for a while.















HISTORY
Hensonville, New York was officially established in 1818 as a hamlet of Windham, which itself was settled in 1798. The earliest record we have found of our building operating as a hotel dates back to a postcard from 1918 - The Hensonville Hotel. We’re told by a town surveyor the structure was built sometime during the latter half of the 19th century as a boarding house, just beyond the end of The Civil War. It has changed hands numerous times in the hundred and fifty or so years since then.
When we started renovations, one of the first orders of business was to remove the thousands of square feet of vinyl flooring plastered edge to edge in every room. We didn’t know what we’d find underneath and already had in the plans to lay down new hardwood. What we found, beneath layers of paper and adhesive, was pristine, original flooring. But the more we peeled away the more a patterned oddity revealed itself. The wood was different throughout the building. Douglas fir and wide plank pine, wormy hemlock, hard maple, and red oak. Different varieties, different widths, even different orientations and fasteners and finishes.
A story began to unfold. The building had been pieced together - added to and subtracted from, modified and expanded - over it’s long life. It had evolved to meet the whims or needs or imagination of the current owner. We were there doing the same, no? And, almost as an act of providence, we discovered that some rooms had unsalvageable floors that needed replacing. We tried to match the adjacent boards but they were hand-milled and impossible to source. So we settled on the flooring of our time, new fir. Yet another variety to piece in. A footprint of our own. A contribution to this wonderful place that will hopefully continue to stand long after our time with it has passed.
