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Snapshots of the Seasons in One of New York City’s Last Wild Places

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Snapshots of the Seasons in One of New York City’s Last Wild Places

This railroad track hasn’t carried a train across central Queens in 63 years, and it is more strange and more beautiful for it. The Long Island Rail Road’s Rockaway Beach Branch once offered a 30-minute trip from Manhattan to New York City’s ocean beaches. Along the way it traversed three and a half miles of parkland valleys, earthen embankments and concrete viaducts from Forest Hills to Ozone Park.

The line was abandoned in 1962. And so nature pursued its messy designs. Forests grew. Signal towers fell. Coyotes colonized the dark bramble. In Rego Park, a section of track came unmoored from its fastening pins, and the rock ballast eroded. The track swayed free in the wind. A seedling fell between the stones. It became a red maple tree that grew and caught the rail, folding the steel I-beam into its bulbous trunk.

On a chilly day last winter, Jason Hofmann leaned down, framed the scene with his iPhone and took a picture.

“I like the way the branches move in the wind — it creates interesting geometry with the railroad tracks,” said Jason, 17, who lives nearby and occasionally walks the abandoned tracks. “It feels like nature taking over a war zone.”

Most of the old train line is managed by New York’s Department of Citywide Administrative Services. The middle section, a mile-long stretch through Forest Park, is open to the public. The rest lies behind razor wire, wobbly fences and hillsides of poison ivy. A few neighbors improvise ways to get inside, as do a handful of people who sleep under tarps.

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“It’s gorgeous,” said Travis Terry, who lives in Forest Hills, three blocks from the old line. “It’s been untouched for 60 years, so you have these great trees. You’re in a forest and then you think to yourself, ‘Wait, I’m in New York City!’”

The locals are joined by especially ardent urban explorers, some of whom take multiple buses and subway trains to get there. They enjoy the abandoned line for its decayed beauty, and because so few people know it’s there.

“It’s under the radar because it’s in Queens, and it’s hard to get to,” said Jeff Seal, a train-loving performer who filmed himself walking the entire line. The video has received 12,000 views since he posted it on YouTube six years ago, which hasn’t done much to raise the Rockaway branch’s profile. “I like that it’s hidden in plain sight,” he said.

The place may not remain hidden for long. Mr. Terry leads Friends of the QueensWay, a nonprofit that hopes to turn the abandoned train line into a linear park similar to the High Line in Manhattan. The group has received $154 million in grants from the city and the federal government, enough to complete the first mile and a half of park construction.

“It’s important for us to utilize every inch,” Mr. Terry said.

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Because the Rockaway branch is in New York City, even this forgotten wasteland has become contested ground. A competing group, called QueensLink, hopes to restore train service aboveground, with a new tunnel connecting the branch to the subway system. Cost estimates start around $4 billion and balloon to $9 billion. The group has won $400,000 to study the rail idea from the U.S. Department of Transportation — the same agency that also gave $117 million to QueensWay to build its park.

“It’s a remarkable resource that has to be used,” said Neil C. Giannelli, 70, who has lived along the line for 24 years and supports QueensLink.

In the meantime, the Rockaway branch grows more beautiful for its disuse. To spend a year trespassing the old tracks is to enjoy the infinite overlapping riot of things planted and dead, built up and falling apart.

If the Rockaway Beach Branch becomes a park in Queens it will be thanks in part to the success of the High Line, another once-abandoned train line that opened as a park starting in 2009 and now attracts tourists from around the world.

Robert Hammond is a co-founder of Friends of the High Line, which led the redevelopment effort. To sell his vision, Mr. Hammond asked the photographer Joel Sternfeld if he might take a few snapshots of the abandoned train line.

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Between his photo books and museum exhibitions, including a show at the Museum of Modern Art in 1984, Mr. Sternfeld was among the most celebrated art photographers in the world. He agreed to help the High Line, but not for money. His only request was time.

“I need a year of exclusive access,” Mr. Sternfeld recalled telling the group.

Mr. Sternfeld got his year, and keys to the abandoned line. The wet spring dried. Summer weeds bloomed. Though the High Line in the 1990s was a refuge for artists and teenage thrill seekers, Mr. Sternfeld’s pictures included no people. Instead they focused on faint trails bushwhacked into thickets of invasive Ailanthus trees. His pictures, full of leaden skies and muted auburn bramble, lent the High Line the mystique it needed to land powerful backers, Mr. Hammond said, including Diane von Furstenberg and Mayor Michael Bloomberg.

“For me, it was the seasons,” Mr. Sternfeld said in a recent interview. “I have always been interested in the seasons, and the changing of the seasons.”

A quarter century later, the project to redevelop the Rockaway branch is in the same early phase as the High Line was when Mr. Sternfeld walked it. Yellow lichens dot the rusted steel like polka dots on a necktie. Flocks of blue jays march down the canopy like columns of soldiers, squawking and unafraid. Behind an apartment tower in Rego Park, a high-banked ridge gave way and buried the rail line beneath a slow-moving avalanche of soil.

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On a warm day last summer, Alex Cotter left the sidewalk by Yellowstone Boulevard and scrambled onto the steep embankment to the Rockaway branch, using tree roots as handholds to pull himself up. He hoped to see an opossum. Instead he was trapped, dense Ailanthus blocking all northern progress, greenbrier thorns to the south.

“I always thought it would be interesting to go up there, I just never actually did it,” said Mr. Cotter, 28, who grew up near the line in Rego Park. “Maybe I’ll come back when it’s cold.”

Beneath the Yellowstone Boulevard bridge lies a triangle-shaped lot that once was a dumping ground for televisions and car batteries. A decade of free labor turned it into the Compost Collective, where trash is sorted by volunteers and chickens peck one another in a double-decker coop.

At the collective’s winter picnic this December, Anuradha Hashemi stood in the shadow of the quiet train bridge and kept watch over her son’s first bonfire.

“Mom!” said the boy, Obi, 6. “My marshmallow is on fire!”

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In the early 2000s, Patrick Mohamed bought a tall, narrow house in Woodhaven. His back patio ended in a cinder-block wall. Just beyond the wall, the Rockaway branch’s embankment rose in a hillside of weeds and trash.

Now Mr. Mohamed is 63, gray at the temples but still quick with his steps. A cold day in February found him in his driveway surrounded by steel barbells, completing his daily exercises. Mr. Mohamed walked to the back of his property, hopped two steps carved into the cinder blocks and climbed into his garden, on land appropriated from the old train line.

Raised tomato beds climbed the hill like a staircase. They were topped with trellises for long beans and bitter melons and small-gauge screen to keep the rabbits out. Where the hill crests, fat terra cotta planters filled with barren soil extended Mr. Mohamed’s domain all the way across the first set of tracks.

Everywhere else in New York, land rights are adjudicated to the square inch. On the Rockaway branch, things are looser. Some homeowners keep their backyards flush with the property line laid down by the railroad. Many have edged their fences back a few feet, claiming space for a shed, a foosball table or a rope swing. Few of Mr. Mohamed’s neighbors are eager to see the line repurposed as a park, which might bring nosy strangers to their backyard retreats.

“I’m worried about people looking in, hurting our privacy,” said Lasha Revia, 46, who carved a stone-lined terrace into the embankment where he hosts family gatherings in summer.

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But no one else along the entire three-and-a-half-mile line has pursued a campaign of territorial expansion as successful as Mr. Mohamed’s.

“I built this over 24 years,” he said. “I did it a little piece at a time.”

One man can impose only so much order on a place so riotous. Rather than feel discouraged by the disorder, Mr. Mohamed greets it with delight. In summer, when the garden pruning is finished, he retires to his back deck. He watches darkness descend at its own celestial pace.

“At night it gets really dark back here,” he said. “We get great stars, and the moon comes out really clear.”

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How a Parks Worker Lives on $37,500 in Tompkinsville, Staten Island

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How a Parks Worker Lives on ,500 in Tompkinsville, Staten Island

How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.

We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?

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Sara Robinson boarded a Greyhound bus from Oregon to New York City to attend Hunter College in the early 2000s, bright-eyed and eager to pick up odd jobs to fuel her dream of living there.

For a long time, she made it work. But recently, that has been more challenging than ever.

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Right around her 40th birthday, Ms. Robinson began to feel financially squeezed in Brooklyn, where she had lived for years. Ms. Robinson (no relation to this reporter) was also feeling too grown to live with roommates.

“As a child,” she said, “you don’t think you’re going to have a roommate at 40.” She decided to move into a place of her own: a one-bedroom apartment in the Tompkinsville neighborhood of Staten Island.

After she moved, the preschool where she’d worked for over a decade closed. Now, she works two jobs. She is a seasonal employee for the state Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation, working from Tuesday to Saturday. And on Monday nights, she sells concessions at the West Village movie theater Film Forum, which pays $25 an hour plus tips.

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Ms. Robinson, now 45, loves her job as an environmental educator at a state park on Staten Island. Her team runs the park’s social media accounts and comes up with event programming, like a recent project tapping maple trees to make syrup.

But the role is temporary. Her last stint was from June 2024 to January 2025. Then she was unemployed until August 2025. Ms. Robinson’s current contract will be up in April, unless she gets an extension or a different parks job opens up.

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Ms. Robinson’s biweekly pay stubs from the parks department amount to about $1,300 before taxes. She barely felt a difference, she said, while she was out of work and pocketing around $880 every two weeks from her unemployment checks. (Her previous parks gig paid $1,100 a check.)

Living in New York’s Greenest Borough

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“It used to be, ‘There’s no way I’m moving to Staten Island,’” Ms. Robinson said. “But the place is close to the water. I’m three minutes from the ferry. The rest is history.” She lives on the third floor of a multifamily house, above an art studio and another tenant. Her rent is $1,600 a month, plus $125 in utilities, including her phone bill.

“If my situation changes, I don’t know if I could find something similar,” she said. “So much of my New York life has been feeling trapped to an apartment. You get a place for a good price, and you’re like, ‘I can’t leave now.’”

Staten Island is convenient for Ms. Robinson’s parks job, but it’s become harder to justify living in a borough where she knows few people. It takes more than an hour to get to friends in Brooklyn, an especially hard trek during the winter. After four years of living on Staten Island, Ms. Robinson feels somewhat isolated.

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“All my friends on Staten Island are senior citizens,” she said. “It’s great. I love it. But I do want friends closer to my age.”

One of Ms. Robinson’s friends, Ray, took her on nature walks and taught her about tree identification, sparking an interest in mycology, the study of mushrooms. This led to a productive — and free — fungi foraging hobby during unemployment. She has found all sorts of mushrooms, including, after a month of searching, the elusive morel.

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The Budgeting Game

Ms. Robinson doesn’t update her furniture often, but when she does, she shops stoop sales in Park Slope or other parts of Brooklyn.

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“It’s like a treasure hunt,” she said. “You could make a whole apartment off the street, off the stuff that people throw away.”

She also makes a game out of grocery shopping, biking to Sunset Park in Brooklyn or Manhattan’s Chinatown to go to stores where there are better deals. She budgets about $300 for groceries each month.

Ms. Robinson bikes almost everywhere, sometimes traveling a little farther to enter the Staten Island Railway at one of the stations that don’t charge a fare. She spends $80 a month on subway and ferry fares, and $5 a month for a discounted Citi Bike membership she gets through a credit union, though she usually uses her own bike. She is handy and does repairs herself.

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There are certain splurges — Ms. Robinson drops $400 once or twice a year on round-trip airfare to Seattle, where her family lives. She also spent $100 last year to see a concert at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens.

She said she has many financial saving graces. She has no student loans and no car to make payments on. She doesn’t get health insurance from her jobs, but she qualifies for Medicaid.

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She mostly eats at home, though sometimes friends will treat her to dinner. She repays them with tickets to Film Forum movies.

Nothing Beats the Twinkling Lights

Ms. Robinson’s friends often talk about leaving the city — and the country.

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Two friends have their eyes set on Sweden, where they hope to get the affordable child care and social safety net they are struggling to access in New York.

Ms. Robinson can’t see herself moving elsewhere in the United States, but she is entertaining the idea of an international move if she can’t hack it on Staten Island.

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Yet the pull of the city is hard for her to resist.

“I just get a rush when I’m riding the Staten Island Ferry across the bay,” she said. “You see all the little twinkling lights. It’s this feeling of, ‘everything is possible here.’”

That feeling, plus the many friendly faces Ms. Robinson sees every day — the ferry operators, the conductors on the Staten Island Railway, her co-workers at Film Forum — are what tie her to New York.

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“My savings are not increasing, so there’s that,” she said. “But I’ve been OK so far. I think I’m going to figure it out.”

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How the Editor in Chief of Marie Claire Gets Styled for a Trip to Italy

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How the Editor in Chief of Marie Claire Gets Styled for a Trip to Italy

Nikki Ogunnaike, the editor in chief of Marie Claire magazine, did not grow up the scion of an Anna Wintour or a Marc Jacobs.

But, she said, “my mom and dad are both very stylish people.”

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They got dressed up to go to church every week in her hometown Springfield, Va. Her mother managed a Staples; her father, a CVS. “Presentation is important to them,” she said.

Since landing her first internship with Glamour magazine in college, Ms. Ogunnaike, 40, has held editorial roles there and at Elle magazine and GQ. She has been in the top post at Marie Claire since 2023.

She recently spent a Saturday with The New York Times as she prepared for Milan Fashion Week.

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How a Physical Therapist and a Retiree Live on $208,000 in Harlem

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How a Physical Therapist and a Retiree Live on 8,000 in Harlem

How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.

We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?

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It has never really occurred to Marian or Charles Wade to live anywhere but the city where they were born and where they raised their children.

New York is in their bones. “We have our roots here, and our families enjoyed life here before us,” Ms. Wade said.

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And they feel lucky. Between Mr. Wade’s pension, earned after more than 40 years as an analyst at the Manhattan district attorney’s office, and his Social Security benefits, along with Ms. Wade’s work as a physical therapist at a psychiatric center, they bring in about $208,000 a year.

Still, it’s hard for the couple not to notice how much the city has changed as it has become wealthier.

About 10 years ago, Ms. Wade, 65, and Mr. Wade, 69, sold the Morningside Heights apartment they had lived in for decades. The Manhattan neighborhood had become more affluent, and tensions over how their building should be managed and how much residents should be expected to pay for upkeep boiled over between people who had lived there for years and newer neighbors.

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They found a new home in Harlem, large enough to fit their two children, who are now adults struggling to afford the city’s housing market.

All in the Family

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Ms. Wade knew it was time to leave Morningside Heights when she spotted her husband hiding behind a bush outside their building, hoping to avoid an unpleasant new neighbor. They had bought their apartment in 1994 for $206,000, using some money they had inherited from their families, and sold it in 2015 for $1.13 million.

The couple found a new apartment in the Sugar Hill section of Harlem for $811,000, and put most of the money down upfront. They took out a loan with a good rate for the remaining cost, and had a $947 monthly payment. They recently finished paying off the mortgage, but they have monthly maintenance payments of $1,555, as well as two temporary assessments to help improve the building, totaling $415 a month.

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Their two children each moved home shortly after graduating from college.

The couple’s son, Jacob Wade, 28, split an apartment with three roommates nearby for a while, but spent down his savings and moved back in with his parents. He is searching for an affordable one bedroom nearby and plans to move out later in the year. Their daughter, Elka Wade, 27, came home after college but recently moved to an apartment in Astoria, Queens, with roommates.

Until their daughter moved out a few weeks ago, she and her brother each took a bedroom, and Mr. and Ms. Wade slept in the dining room, which they had converted into their bedroom with the help of a Murphy bed and a new set of curtains for privacy.

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There is very little storage space. A piano occupies an entire closet in their son’s bedroom, because the family has no other place to fit it.

The setup is cramped, but close quarters have their benefits: When their daughter, a classically trained cellist, was living there, she often practiced at home in the evenings. “I love listening to her play,” Ms. Wade said.

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Three Foodtowns and a Thrift Shop

The Wades do what they can to keep their costs low. They’ve decided against installing new, better insulated windows in their drafty apartment. They don’t go on vacations, instead visiting their small weekend home in rural upstate New York. And they’ve pulled back on takeout food and retail shopping.

Instead, Mr. Wade surveys the three Foodtown supermarkets near their home for the best deals, preferring one for produce and another for meat. The weekly grocery bill has been around $500 with both kids living at home, and the family usually orders delivery twice a week, rotating between Chinese and Indian food, which typically costs $70, including leftovers.

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For an occasional splurge, they love Pisticci, a nearby restaurant where the penne with homemade mozzarella costs $21.

The couple owns a car, which they park on the street for free. But they often use public transportation to avoid paying the $9 congestion pricing fee to drive downtown, or when they have a good parking spot they don’t want to give up. They have a senior discount for their transit cards, which allows them to pay $1.50 per subway or bus ride, rather than $3.

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Ms. Wade stopped shopping at the stores she used to frequent, like Eileen Fisher and Banana Republic, years ago. Instead, she visits a thrift store called Unique Boutique on the Upper West Side. She was browsing the aisles a few months ago, before a big Thanksgiving dinner, and spotted the perfect dress for the occasion for just $20.

But she has one nonnegotiable weekly expense: a private yoga lesson in an instructor’s apartment nearby, for $150 a session.

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Elka Wade, a cellist, often practices at home, to the delight of her parents. Bess Adler for The New York Times

Swapping Mortgage Payments for Singing Lessons

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For every member of the Wade family, life in New York is all about the arts.

The children each attended the Special Music School, a public school focused on the arts. Their son, an actor, teacher and director, works part time at the Metropolitan Opera and the Kaufman Music Center, a performing arts complex in Manhattan. His sister works in administration at the Kaufman Center.

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Mr. Wade is still close with friends from high school who are now professional musicians, and the couple often goes to see them play at venues like the Bitter End in Greenwich Village, where shows typically have a $12 cover and a two-drink minimum.

The couple has cut back on going to expensive concerts — they used to try to see Elvis Costello every time he came to New York, for example — but have timeworn strategies for getting affordable theater tickets.

They recently splurged on tickets to “Oedipus” on Broadway for themselves and their daughter, who they treated to a ticket as a birthday gift. The seats were in the nosebleed section, but still cost $80 apiece.

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The couple has a $75 annual membership to the Film Forum, which gives them reduced price tickets to movies. They occasionally get discounted tickets to the opera through their son’s work, and when they don’t, they pay for family circle passes, which are usually $47 a head, plus a $10 fee.

Ms. Wade, who grew up commuting from Flushing, Queens, to Manhattan to take dance lessons, sometimes takes $20 drop-in ballet classes during the week at the Dance Theater of Harlem, just a few blocks away from the apartment.

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Recently, when the couple paid off their mortgage, Ms. Wade celebrated by giving herself a treat: weekly private singing lessons, for $125 a session.

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