We've been away, visiting friends. Our first stop was a cabin in a rural part of southern New England: a dwelling, a garden, a hillside in the forest, a sparkling brook.
After arriving in mid-afternoon, we went for a walk. Our host knows mushrooms, and as we walked he spotted small orange chanterelles. We picked several handfuls, and he sauteed them in butter, and served them on his homemade bread as our first course. I can't even tell you how delicious this was!
We ate and drank like royalty, and the dinner ended with a beautiful tarte studded with fresh-picked red, black, and yellow raspberries from their garden.
After much conversation and catching-up, we slept in a calm room with a faded patchwork quilt and old New England furniture. Outside: stone walls, moose antlers, the call of wood thrushes.
In the morning we ate fresh eggs from a nearby farm, and more of that delicious bread, and jam, and coffee, on the outdoor table.
Our hosts had to leave for work, but we stayed for a few more quiet hours, reading and drawing. What a peaceful and beautiful way to begin a short vacation, and such a happiness to catch up with old friends.