Longfellow and I have a quietly thrilling weekend

This past weekend a dear friend took me to an old inn for a quiet weekend, as a birthday gift to us, because we share a birthday. I went to an inn once last October and rewrote the wine list at a nearby restaurant. October is inn appreciation month. I did not rewrite anything on this trip, but am currently writing a story. But, anyway.

The Wayside Inn, where we stayed, is a living museum. Indeed it felt much like having some sort of connection enabling us to stay, on the sly, in a museum for the night. Like when you go a museum and wish you could hide away and then stay overnight in one of the exhibits–yeah, it was like that.

This inn is so old in fact that it has very low beamed ceilings which made me feel tall. I am not often within reach of any ceilings and don’t often feel tall. This inn is said to be haunted. It has something to do with Longfellow. It is called, officially, Longfellow’s Wayside Inn. I like inns. I like the quiet of no TVs and quiet, tiptoey times.

I drove up to the inn...

I drove up to the inn and pulled in at the sign and thought wow! This is so rustic. I can't believe we are staying here. Then I re-read the sign and realized that this is The Wayside Inn grist mill. oops! Back in the car I go...

Arriving at the real inn

Maureen's thumb, arriving at the real inn

The tavern has brown checked tablecloths.

The tavern has brown checked tablecloths and people. The people can be any pattern they like. .

A glass of wine

A glass of wine at the tavern.

At check-in time we logically checked in. There was an innkeeper.

At check-in time we logically checked in. There was an innkeeper. I imagine this guy who let me take his picture is the innkeeper. but ya know, I didn't actually ask.

And brought our little things to our little rooms.

And brought our little things to our little rooms.

Then walked around the pond...

Then walked around the pond...

And sat by the pond on the little benches and chatted...

And sat by the little pond on the little benches and chatted...

the pond has Lillypads...

The pond has (little) Lillypads...

Things stirred up the pond and made swirlies

Things stirred up the pond and made swirlies

My little room.

My little room.

The gift shop had dolls...

The gift shop had dolls... They were like my little expressionless inn friends.

And ducks...

And expressionless ducks...

The dining room was busy indeed...

The dining room was busy indeed...

Christine took excellent care of us.

Christine took excellent care of us.I loved Christine.

Parts of the inn are roped off and are museumish. That turkey is not real.

Parts of the inn are roped off and are museumish. That turkey is not real.Then we went to bed. But not to sleep because there was a wedding on the grounds and the music and the DJ did not stop louding till 11:18 PM. So as I waited for the quiet to come to the inn, and ghosts to appear, the sounds of Michael Jackson's Thriller were in the background. Hence the thrillingness. Then we checked out the next day and went home. To nap.

2 Responses to “Longfellow and I have a quietly thrilling weekend”

  1. Wolfenbach Says:

    “I drove up to the inn and pulled in at the sign and thought wow! This is so rustic. I can’t believe we are staying here. Then I re-read the sign and realized that this is The Wayside Inn grist mill. oops! Back in the car I go…”.

    I promise next time to request sleeping accomodations in the Grist Mill. ;)

  2. I like a blog that takes me somewhere and gets me back in time to get some work done. Thanks for not leaving me with ghostly thoughts to haunt me. And thanks for the reply box at the bottom of your blog. It’s so easy to say something in an effort to continue to avoid getting back to work. In fact, I think I’ll read the John Cleese letter because that probably really has some remarks that could haunt my day and make me incapable of getting back to work.

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