Welbourne

When you live in the city, you sometimes forget how the rest of the world isn't really a city. Then you leave and it's quiet and there are no noises at all when you're going to sleep and it's like being in a fairy tale. I grew up in that fairy tale but for most of my adolescence thought it was completely contrary to the way we were all supposed to be living. As much as I enjoy my moments here in a city surrounded by people, people, people, it only takes about 1 commute on the metro being crammed like cattle into metro cars with too many other strangers with morning breath that I decide I need to smell fresh cut grass and distant cows mooing.

Philip and I got that opportunity a few weeks ago for our anniversary/birthday celebration in the hills of mahvelous Vuh-gin-yuh. Some friends recommended it to us, and it far exceeded our expectations. One should never judge a book by its website because while there is much to be desired from the Welbourne site, guests arrive at the beautiful old charmer, stunned and eager to explore. We arrived, and a few other bed and breakfast guests were lounging on the porch surrounded by a variety of mixed breed hunting dogs, all of whom jumped up and barked in unison, properly announcing our arrival. They approached Mina to give her a thorough sniff, and Philip and I went to explore.

Explore, you must. It's a maze inside this place. I literally stepped back into the 1860s as soon as I pushed open the heavy, paint-peeled door. There were long, paper thin area rugs covering the creaky floor boards in every room, generations of family members pictured in antique frames hanging from the walls, deep couches with torn, misshapen cushions in the three different sitting rooms and library, bottles of wine and various liquors displayed on a large corner table along with dozens of mismatched tumblers, 8 or 9 bedrooms laden with all sorts of canopy beds sloped or leaning in concordance with whatever the old floors decided to do (depending on the room)...

Mina followed me, unashamed by her unorthodox, canine self. This place was made for her, and she made herself right at home, searching every room just as I did, panting as she went.

The afternoon was exactly as I hoped it would be - relaxing and easy. Storm clouds began to roll in, but Philip and I set up our washers game nonetheless in the front lawn and split our time between playing and throwing a frisbee for the dogs (one of which actually became Mina's friend...they were about the same age/size...except she looked like a fox).

It was all fun and games until the ceiling caved in in the music room. We were the only guests there (everyone else had gone to dinner), and the owners were still out and about. Philip went to see about the crash, and, indeed, there was a mess.

We told the owner, Nat Morrison, when he arrived a short time later, clad in suspenders and a suit vest and a dress shirt with holes in the elbows. He pulled up in his pickup truck, smoking a beautiful old pipe and sat with us on the porch, holding a nice glass of bourbon iced tea. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes when we told him about the ceiling. Apparently these things have happened over the years, as one would expect. He asked us what we wanted to drink, and I said bourbon -neat, and Philip was indecisive. Mr. Morrison asked him what he would order if he was in a bar. Philip didn't answer quickly enough, and Nat got impatient and said "you'd better come make it yourself." He's a character. We sat chatting on the porch about the history of the house and how confounded technology is these days (I had my iPhone nearby) until the rain moved in, and Philip and I left to go eat dinner at a nearby pub called "Hunter's Head Tavern". It's delicious, but the atmosphere might be the best part. We drank beer and ate free dark chocolate cake, because it was Philip's birthday, and only the best [that's free] for my Philip.

The next day we woke up to a southern breakfast, complete with biscuits, fried green tomatoes, eggs, grits, bacon, and coffee in little tea cups. I couldn't leave without going on a run in the countryside, so Mina and I went exploring while Philip read in the library. We got lost, and Mina got ticks, but at least she got to be off leash. We found a creek, and she swam, and then we got more lost. But eventually we found our way back to the house, and I got to take my favorite kind of shower - in a claw tub.

We left tired, but happy, and even stopped by a British pantry on the way home so I could look and swoon-without buying anything-at all the over priced digestives and Cadberry chocolates and Jacobs cream crackers and salad creams and even real, live, tiny, $11 jars of clotted cream.

Two years of marriage went by terribly fast, and as I've gone back and forth writing this blog post since soon after our VA trip to over a month since the trip, I'm realizing how quickly time goes from days to months to years, regardless of best intentions. I intended to write this right after we went so that I could capture everything accurately and fresh from my memory, but it's amazing how much effort you sometimes have to put into doing something you really want to do. It's also amazing how slowly I've grown more in love with this guy I married thanks in large part to the time that does keep passing so quickly.

Anyway, thanks, Welbourne, for giving us new memories and marking another splendid year for our marriage. Here's to many more.

Our cocktail spot

Our bedroom (the mattress was about as hard as sleeping on the floor...but it's all about the experience)