In Country

Peter Murray • November 19, 2014

Charlottesville, Va., is a natural and cultural small-town treasure that is best enjoyed in the fall. The Charlottesville fall experience begins with the journey, a drive straight down Route 29. As you escape D.C.’s suburbs, 29 opens onto lush meadows, rolling farmland – now framed in fall colors – and, eventually, views of blue mountains.

Be sure to book a hotel near the historic downtown mall. The charming strip features a movie theater, an ice rink, countless trendy bars and restaurants and a large pavilion for free concerts. Maybe you’ll be lucky and cross paths with a big name like Bruce Springsteen, Passion Pit or Phoenix, all of whom have played the pavilion in recent years.

Best of all, Charlottesville’s downtown mall is open to pedestrian traffic only, making it a good destination for simply hanging out and enjoying the passing scene.

When you get to town, head for the University of Virginia. Take a self-guided tour and get lost in a maze of Thomas Jefferson’s wondrous neoclassical architecture, marked by white columns and red Virginia brick. With a Frisbee, you can make the most of the majestic Lawn, bordered by rustic dorm rooms constructed in the early 1800s. The rooms have fireplaces, but no restrooms or showers, so look out for students rushing back from the bathroom in the cold in their towels.

If you’re in Charlottesville on a Saturday this fall, check out the university’s prepsters in their coats and ties and their Lilly Pulitzer sundresses – which come out no matter the temperature – on Scott Stadium’s grass hill. UVA’s team has a so-so record this season, but the game is as much about people-watching as sport.

From there, you can take a quick drive up to Jefferson’s home, Monticello, a beautiful estate that overlooks the entire town, inspiring Charlottesville’s cult of the third president. The property offers lessons in history, mechanics, architecture and more, with a sumptuous mansion, slave quarters and exhibits featuring some of Jefferson’s self-made gadgets.

After learning about one of the country’s founding farmers, visitors can follow the Monticello Wine Trail, a string of vineyards and wineries that leads to the Blue Ridge Mountains. Taste some of the best reds and whites on the east coast with stops at Pippin Hill Farm and Winery, Blenheim Vineyards and even Trump Winery.

If you’re traveling to Charlottesville between Nov. 14 and 23, seek out the Cider Week specials, including cider cocktails at the Petit Pois restaurant, free tastings at the Market Street Wineshop and a workshop on making cider at home at Fifth Season Gardening. More information is available at www.ciderweekva.com.

Get down to Charlottesville before winter’s chill takes hold. For only a two-hour trip, there is much to behold in this charming and historic university town.

Georgetowner • November 6, 2014

The 77th International Gold Cup steeplechase races held October 25th in The Plains, Va. strive to keep the tradition of the hunt alive with a number of family oriented events, such as pony and terrier races before the main event, best hat contests and an abundance of food vendors mixed among new car displays, parachute demonstrations and food-filled tailgates by families and corporations alike. According to the Official Gold Cup website, over 45,000 spectators attend the events. Pictured above is a sampling of the days happenings.

Anders Ohm • October 23, 2014

Oysters are best in the months with an “R” in them, so don’t miss your opportunity to eat them during the fall season. In D.C., oysters used to be cheap and abundant due to the proximity to the Chesapeake Bay. At the turn of the 20th century, Washington had more than 150 oyster bars. The oyster population of Chesapeake Bay had dropped to about one percent of the population in the late 19th century due to overfishing, disease and pollution. But recently, there have been a number of successful efforts taken to restore populations, which has seen the return of oysters’ popularity in Washington. Check out our calendar with the area’s best oyster-themed events this fall and winter.

Oct. 11
Holly Point Art & Seafood Festival
The 11th annual Holly Point Art and Seafood festival has something fun for everyone. The festival will offer oysters, seafood, art and family fun. Visitors will also see restored buy-boats, used for harvesting oysters. The event takes place at the beautiful Holly Point Nature Park and Deltaville Maritime Museum on the waterfront. Admission is free. 287 Jackson Creek Rd, Deltaville, Va., 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. For more information visit
deltavillemuseum.com.

Oct. 18 and 19
St. Mary’s Oyster Festival
Enjoy live music, entertainment and lots of food at the 48th St. Mary’s County Oyster Festival. There will be fun for everyone with activities from shellfish exhibits to carnival rides. People come from all over to compete in the National Oyster Shucking Contest and the National Oyster Cook-off. Admission is $5 for adults; free for children 12 and under. Hours on Saturday are 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. and on Sunday 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Location: St. Mary’s County Fairgrounds. 42455 Fairgrounds Road, Leonardtown, Md. For more information visit usoysterfest.com.

Oct. 25
The Inaugural 1905 Oyster Roast on the Roof
Deck with DC Brau
1905 Bistro & Bar along side DC Brau will be hosting their first oyster roast. Enjoy all-you-can-eat Rappahannock oysters and your choice of two sides prepared by Chef Joel Hatton. DC Brau will be supplying $5 drafts and their first-ever Oktoberfest. The oyster roast will take place on the roof deck of the 1905 Bistro & Bar, 1905 9th St., NW. Hours are noon to 5 p.m. Tickets are $20 in advanced; $25 at the door. 1905dc.com/etc

Oct. 25
Bull, Shrimp and Oyster Roast
Chesapeake Down Syndrome Parent Group is hosting their 5th annual Bull, Shrimp and Oyster Roast at Columbus Gardens in Nottingham, Md. The buffet will feature pit beef, pit ham, pit turkey, shrimp, oysters and more. Beer, wine, soda and cocktails will be available. All proceeds from the roast will benefit CDSPG educational programs, family outreach and community advocacy. Visit cdspg.org for more information.

Nov. 7 and 8
Urbanna Oyster Festival
Come by boat or car to the Urbanna Oyster Festival, the largest and longest running oyster festival in the United States. During the festival, the streets of Urbanna, Va., are closed to vehicles and filled with crafts and seafood vendors. Visitors can enjoy music at the concert stage, learn about the history of the area or participate in oyster shucking and wine tasting. The focal point of the festival has become the Saturday Parade which has continued to grow over the years from an event featuring floats and antique cars into a much larger parade with marching bands and more. Visit urbannaoysterfestival.com for additional information.

Nov. 21 and 22
Old Ebbitt Grill’s Oyster Riot
Held each year the Friday and Saturday before Thanksgiving, the Oyster Riot is back for the 20th time. Each night, tens of thousands of oysters are devoured by nearly 1000 guests who enjoy live music while they dine. The bivalves will be served with the gold medal winning wines of the International Wines for Oyster Competition, which selects the best wines to go with oysters from over 200 entrees. The Oyster Riot runs from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. on Friday and Saturday evenings. The most recent addition, the Saturday Matinee Oyster Riot, takes place from noon to 3 p.m. Visit Ebbitt.com for tickets and more information.
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Richard Selden •

Two of the 20th century’s greatest photographers were born in 1890 and died in 1976: Man Ray and Paul Strand. Man Ray was a man of the avant-garde. His stone in Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris reads (in English): “unconcerned but not indifferent.”
Paul Strand could never be called unconcerned. He learned photography in his teens from social reformer Lewis Hine, made leftist films during the Depression and—distressed by the country’s feverish anti-Communism—moved permanently to France in 1950.

The Philadelphia Museum of Art’s new retrospective, curated by Peter Barberie, seeks to place Strand as much in the modernist camp as that mad scientist Man Ray. “Paul Strand: Master of Modern Photography,” on view through Jan. 4, deepens our understanding of modernism as it traces Strand’s six-decade career.

Two of Strand’s most famous images—“Wall Street, New York” of 1915, in which shadows stretch from tiny figures passing under the House of Morgan’s pharaonic facade; and “Blind Woman, New York” of 1916, a portrait of a peddler, her right eye half-shut, her left open and aimed farther left, the word BLIND on a sign on her chest—achieve a perfect balance of compositional power and social message.

The image of the blind woman is one of eight striking portraits hung near some of Strand’s photographic experiments with cubism, also from 1916. “Abstraction, Bowls, Twin Lakes, Connecticut,” a composition of four ceramic bowls shot close up in soft focus, is as abstract as Strand’s work ever got.

Photographer Alfred Stieglitz showed Strand’s work at 291, his Fifth Avenue gallery, and published it in his journal, “Camera Work.” Several paintings by other members of the Stieglitz circle—Arthur Dove, Marsden Hartley, John Marin and Georgia O’Keeffe—are included in the show. (O’Keeffe, who married Stieglitz in 1924, was also a romantic interest of Strand’s. Stieglitz was more than 20 years her senior and Strand was three years her junior.)

In 1922, Strand married Rebecca Salsbury and purchased a hand-cranked Akeley motion picture camera. Perhaps representing the two sides of the photographer’s aesthetic, five tight close-ups of each—woman and camera—are displayed on one wall.
In the early 1930s, having separated from both his wife and his mentor Stieglitz, Strand moved to Mexico for two years, drawn by the socialist government and related artistic activity. He photographed people in town squares, among other subjects then dropped still photography to make films.

One of the exhibition’s two screening rooms presents a nine-minute segment from “Redes,” his 1936 film about a fictional Mexican fishing village, alternating with a segment from “Native Land,” his documentary about union busting, released in 1942.
Several galleries are devoted to Strand’s travels, which resulted in a number of collaborative “portraits of place.” Three that became books receive special attention: “Time in New England”; “Un Paese: Portrait of an Italian Village,” about Luzzara, the hometown of Cesare Zavattini, screenwriter of the Vittorio De Sica film “The Bicycle Thief”; and “Ghana: An African Portrait.”
The three books, none still in print, have been digitized for browsing on computer kiosks.

The last decades of Strand’s life were spent in France. He and his third wife, photographer Hazel Kingsbury, bought a house in Orgeval outside of Paris. The closing section of the exhibition shows photographs of the Strands in their garden and several of the still lifes of plants he grew there.

“Paul Strand: Master of Modern Photography” is one of several good reasons for a trip to Philadelphia, also the home of the Barnes Foundation, the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and the Institute of Contemporary Art.

Upcoming auctions at Freeman’s, the oldest American auction house, include Modern & Contemporary Works of Art (Nov. 2), Jewelry & Watches (Nov. 3), American Furniture, Folk & Decorative Arts (Nov. 13) and American Art & Pennsylvania Impressionists (Dec. 7).

Among the leading Philadelphia art galleries are Schwarz Gallery, next to Freeman’s on Chestnut Street, specializing in 19th- and early 20th-century paintings; Newman Galleries on Walnut Street, showing paintings by Eakins student Fred Wagner (Nov. 1-Dec. 31, reception Nov. 14); and contemporary gallery Locks Gallery on Washington Square, presenting “Thomas Chimes: The Body in Spirals” (Nov. 7-Dec. 13).
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Paul Simkin •

On October 18 and 19, boaters from around the world gathered in the historic seaport of Annapolis, Maryland for the United States Powerboat Show. Now in its 43rd year, it is the world’s oldest in-water powerboat show. Boaters have the unique opportunity to board and inspect most new models on the market, make side-by-side comparisons, and talk to industry representatives about all aspects of buying and owning a boat. Acres of docks exhibited everything from luxurious multi-million dollar motor and ocean-going yachts and trawlers to high-performance powerboats and offshore fishing machines. On display were boats of every style from 8’ to 90’ including family cruisers, center console fishing boats, inflatables, paddleboards, ski boats, and trailerable powerboats. [gallery ids="101893,136721,136719" nav="thumbs"]

Terrance Gelenter • October 9, 2014

I had the pleasure of meeting Poppy Nicole Salinger at a cocktail party at her Paris apartment several years ago, but it wasn’t until now that I was able to accept her invitation to the Bastide Rose, her boutique hotel in Provence.

Her name may sound familiar to Washingtonians. She is the widow of Pierre Salinger, who served as press secretary to President John Kennedy and who lived in Georgetown. The couple were a superb match. Following her husband’s death in 2004 she created le Musée Pierre Salinger at Le Bastide as a permanent memorial to the man and his times.

We pointed our Fiat towards the village of Le Thor, a scant 17 miles from Avignon, and left the main highway for a narrow country lane bordered by cornfields until we found this most charming of destinations.

We were met by her husband, Aygulf Le Cense, who insisted on toting our bags to the main house. We insisted on mounting the staircase with our luggage to our splendid “Lavender” suite. Decorated with 18th-century provençal furniture, it offered a living-room with a view on the sculpture park and a bedroom with a view on the river, the island and the courtyard.

Once we were settled, it was time for a vintage pastis along the banks of Le Sorgue, where we met a charming couple from Houston and old friends of Poppy who were making their annual visit. (More than a third of her guests are regulars.)

Before dinner we had time to visit the Pierre Salinger Museum that is updated regularly with documents, photographs and memorabilia, including her late husband’s upright piano. The San Francisco-born, francophone Pierre was emblematic of the young blood assembled by JFK to bring vigor and purpose to the New Frontier.

Emmanuel de Menthon, Poppy’s son with her first husband, offers fresh and authentic cuisine for lunch or dinner. His “discovery of the day” often comes from the local farmer’s market and is served on small tables or on a communal table (upon request) on one of the two terraces or in the winter garden. Dining is accompanied by local and national wines: Gigondas, Vacqueyras and, of course, Châteauneuf du Pape, without forgetting the delicious country wines Luberon and Côtes du Ventoux.

We were joined at dinner by Poppy, Aygulf, Charles Pomméry of the Champagne house and his wife Colette for a convivial meal that begin with tomatoes so sweet and fresh that I thought I was back in New Jersey in August where beefsteaks are king. A fresh grilled white fish with seasonal vegetables and plenty of wine were pure pleasure.

This is a place that exudes serenity. I could easily have stayed for a week with a few books, dips in the pool, leisurely walks and conversation with the assortment of international guests in search of the same.

So, come for a few days, taste wines in nearby Chateauneuf du Pape, shop for antiques in Isle Sur La Sorgue and most of all bath in the warm hospitality of Poppy and her family.
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Georgetowner • September 25, 2014

Get your fancy hats, bright sundresses and mint juleps ready for equestrian season in Virginia. Huge, international competitions are coming to our Virginia countryside and everyone who’s anyone will be there to cheer on the horses, flaunt their style and, most importantly, have fun. This year’s festivities include the Fall Race Meet at Foxfield, races at James Madison’s Montpelier and the 77th annual International Gold Cup, Virginia’s largest equestrian event with over 45,000 attendees. Additionally, Middleburg’s prized National Sporting Library & Museum hosts A Sportsman en plein air to celebrate equestrian and other outdoor sports. See our calendar below for more information on these events and other ideas for family fun in the country this fall.

Georgetowner • September 10, 2014

Two bags of Peanut M&Ms from the gas station, a shared bottle of Aquafina, a touring guide to Loudoun County wineries, and we were off to get a quick handle on the whole “wine thing” that everyone talks about but that we snarked-off as a bit too snobby for our down-to-earth sensibilities.  We thought our tastes had already moved up considerably from the days of Everclear punch and flat beer in red Solo cups when we up-scaled to the expensive bar shots of Patrón and Grey Goose.  Frankly, our experience with wine was limited to “Three-Buck Chuck”and Manischewitz at my mom’s house twice a year. Clearly we knew better than those haughty folks who hauled their cookies all over the place to “become one” with the grape. After all, wine is wine, right?

On the one day this month that Erin and I both have off together, we were both dead set on doing something other than our usual piling of shopping carts with projects we’ll never actually finish from Michael’s and The Home Depot. With the thought of adventure spurring us on we set out for a great adventure in the wilderness. Not actually being the super adventurous types we looked for something just far enough outside of D.C. to have cows and suitably romantic dusty back roads, but that would also still leave enough time in the day to stop at the mall in Tysons for a quick Cinnabon and then on to a movie about a raccoon and tree that help guard the galaxy.

We headed to the northern tip of Loudoun County on Route 9. Erin drove, I fell asleep and Google navigated us through a couple of short life lessons that went a long way in establishing that we were the real wine snobs.

Our first stop was the Corcoran Winery. There is a zero snooty factor about the place. Erin even used the word “charming” out loud before catching herself.  The folks hanging out at the winery seemed totally without the pretension that we had previously, and now to our mutual chagrin, derisively projected onto all those we saw as the high-born bourgeois wine-swirling and goblet-sniffing crowd.

This place was exactly what we didn’t know we needed. After walking past the rows of vines, a good number of picnic tables and ponds appeared. At the tables were folks just hanging out as if they were in some hyper-glorious rural backyard. The vibe was definitely laid-back but not sleepy. Just a few feet away stands a small, super-rustic tasting house where the people working behind the bar actually seemed to enjoy the wine they poured and the people they were pouring for. The various groups “tasting” that day included a thirty-something woman and her friends enjoying a low-key birthday celebration; another group getting ready to go to a Nat’s game; and in the corner, a cluster of three friends huddled together and shaking-off a bit of city angst before heading into a new work week.  Corcoran’s tasting room is by no means a fancy place. T-shirts, shorts and sandals seemed the outfit for the day.  It hurts a little to say, but the wine we tasted there left the “Three-Buck Chuck” and the Manischewitz we thought of as wine, as firmly displaced as the grain alcohol punches and the bad frat house beer of earlier years. We even began thinking about where in our house we could build a kinda-sorta wine rack from the wood I bought on our last outing to Home Depot for the closet shelves we both knew I’d never really get to.

Our next stop was the Crushed Cellars winery, a small boutique winery that puts out about 1,500 cases of wine from their ten acres of land. The affable owner Bob Kalok gave us a bit of a tour and showed us the actual grape part of the process as he made his way to feeding the koi in one of the winery’s ponds. We walked among the vines and while not quite Provence, by the last row Erin and I were holding hands and talking about getting out of town more often, maybe to a bed and breakfast. For God’s sake, this place even had a dog sleeping on the floor in the sun and folks sipping their wine on a terrace while over-looking the grapes that would find their way into the next batch. There was something about the serenity that seemed to seep through the place. We didn’t feel like strangers in a strange land. We were among friends we didn’t know an hour before and when we left, we left with a case of wine and no desire to get that Cinnabon. If we did rush out, it was to get home and start building that wine rack that Erin was already sketching out on the back of the Wine Touring Guide.   [gallery ids="101849,138461,138456,138453,138448,138445,138440,138469,138474,138472,138464" nav="thumbs"]

Peter Murray •

Bunny Mellon’s expansive Oak Springs Farm just hit the market, listed by Washington Fine Properties. Rachel Lambert Mellon died at the remarkable age of 103 earlier this year, and her Upperville, Va., property has just arrived on the market for a whopping $70 million. The farm was the fabulously wealthy Mellon’s greatest treasure – a private hideaway where she pursued her deepest passions and entertained some of the world’s biggest celebrities.

In Washington, D.C., Bunny and her philanthropist husband Paul Mellon are best known for their generous donation of more than 1,000 18th- and 19th-century European paintings to the National Gallery of Art. The couple also forged a fruitful relationship with the Kennedy family in the 1950s. The friendship was born on a visit to Oak Springs by first lady Jacqueline Kennedy, who was so inspired by the property that she requested Bunny’s advice on fine arts and antiques for the White House restoration. Later on during the presidency, Bunny was invited back to redesign the White House Rose Garden. She also landscaped Jaqueline Kennedy Onassis’s Martha’s Vineyard home and the JFK Presidential Library and arranged flowers for President John Kennedy’s funeral and Caroline Kennedy’s 1986 wedding in Hyannis Port, Mass.

Her Oak Springs estate embodies the things we remember most about Bunny – her passion for the arts, her love of horses, her zeal for gardening and her aversion to public attention.

Bunny cultivated the farm’s breathtaking 2,000 acres to the tee, with vine-draped arbors, sprawling meadows, neatly arranged flowerbeds and secret gardens. She added barns, stables, guest houses, a pool house, a small farmhouse that acted as Mellon’s home in later life, and the “Brick House,” a neo-Georgian mansion, designed by William Adams Delano.

Additionally, the property is sprinkled with beautiful outdoor sculpture — including a bronze statue of the Mellons’ Kentucky Derby winning horse, Sea Hero — enchanting garden fountains and classically inspired, half-draped nude stone figures. The famously private Mrs. Mellon even installed a private mile-long airstrip, a rarity at the time for a private home in the mid-Atlantic states.

Exquisite details drip from ever corner of the property’s interior space. Murals in the greenhouse trick the eye, with their trompe l’oeil portrayal of baskets, water cans and a host of other gardening supplies. Also depicted are personal items, like Bunny’s gardening hat, coat and cigarette case. The tromp d’loeil continues in the form of painted sun shade on the kitchen tiles inside Little Oak Spring, a small farmhouse, designed by H. Page Cross as a cozier house for the Mellons later on in life.

Bunny’s ardor for horticulture led to the creation of the Oak Springs Garden Library, a collection of art, artifacts, rare books and manuscripts on all things gardening. The library was expanded in 2010. Before her death Mrs. Mellon, established the Gerald B. Lambert Foundation to maintain the building and the collection it houses.

While Bunny owned properties in locales ranging from Antigua to Paris to Nantucket, she considered Oak Springs Farm her home. Accordingly, she and her husband displayed their impressive art collection, spanning centuries of work, all around their estate for their own and their guests’ enjoyment. As America’s quintessential trendsetter, Bunny was an avid collector of jewelry, clothing and other decorative objects. She even employed her own carpenter to design custom pieces for Oak Spring Farm’s interior.

Unfortunately for potential buyers, Bunny’s personal estate is not being sold alongside the farm – her treasured possessions will begin being auctioned off by Sotheby’s in November. Sales are expected to net more than $100 million with proceeds, benefitting the Garden Library and a number of other entities dear to Bunny’s heart. However, the property itself represents an opportunity for prospective buyers to own a piece of history and become a part of the Mellon’s far-reaching legacy.
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Mary Ann Treger • August 7, 2014

“It’s like discovering a pearl in the wilderness,” says a Versace-clad woman to her dinner companions while I sip a glass of Cabernet and savor a bit of eavesdropping at Blackberry Farm. It is the perfect description.

Few would expect such refinement in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains in eastern Tennessee. Don’t bother looking for a sign on the main road to guide you to a place where chic and sheep coincide–gawkers are discouraged. In fact, the average tourist has never heard of this rural retreat and that suits Blackberry Farm just fine. They don’t advertise. Instead, word-of-mouth, articles in high-end publications, top rankings on nearly every “best resort” list plus awards from the James Beard Foundation and Wine Spectator feed the momentum. Hollywood celebs, West Coast techies and those in the know (rumor has it Oprah and Martha Stewart have stayed here) frequent this bucolic resort/spa/gourmet getaway for exceptional and very private R&R.

Even the word “resort” feels wrong; “experience” is a better description. With only 62 rooms and cottages on 4,200 acres (plus an additional 5,000 acres of private wilderness for fox hunting, horseback riding, fly fishing or hiking) this Relais & Chateaux working farm and gastronomic mecca offers perks that are far from its golf and ski alternatives (they don’t have either.)

They do have a dairy, creamery, charcuterie and brewery plus a master cheesemaker, beekeeper, chocolatier and preservationist who oversees all jam making. Jams are sold on the farm as well as to fancy food emporiums throughout the U.S. (the blueberry is to die for).

All vegetables served are grown on the farm and only heirloom seeds are used. Milk from the sheep is used to make their yogurt and cheeses. A butcher and baker are on staff and odds are, a candlestick maker is there, too. The sommelier and his team oversee a 221 page wine list representing 160,000 bottles, including rare vintages such as a $14,000 bottle of Montrachet.

There’s more. The farm is cultivating truffles. To hunt for them, assuming they materialize (there are no guarantees for this ten-year project), they breed rare Lagotto Romagnolo dogs imported from Italy. Fall in love with a puppy? They are for sale–$6,000 each, trained with commands given exclusively in Italian, of course. Untrained, the price is halved.

Privately owned and managed by the Beall family since the early 70’s, Blackberry Farm employs a staff of 375 to care for its pampered guests. Room rates include three glorious meals each day and begin at $795; cottage suites from $1495.

The place has been on my bucket list since before bucket lists became trendy. When the farm’s new spa, Wellhouse, opened I talked my husband into a three night stay.

On arrival, our car is whisked away. We won’t need it again until we leave–each cottage comes with its own golf cart. If we want a lift anywhere, a fleet of new Lexus cars is available, with or without a driver.

From the outside, our dark brown wood-framed cottage tucked in the woods appears unremarkable. Inside, we find all the bells and whistles of a luxury hotel–soaring 17-foot ceiling in the living/bedroom, polished wood floors topped with eclectic furnishings, Frette linens and robes plus a pantry stocked with complimentary snacks. The bathroom is big enough for a family reunion.

Despite the temptation to hang out in the fancy digs, we head outdoors, winding our way through pastures dotted with horses and a dozen piglets following their mom. We discover a crystal clear trout stream, a tranquil lake and we linger at the boat house before putting a canoe to use. While there are plenty of activities—yoga, fly fishing, horseback riding, and archery for starters–there is something to be said for doing nothing. The only thing on my ‘to do’ list is visiting the spa.

Face down on the massage table, my dings and dents are tweaked with warm poultices filled with healing herbs and flowers that are pressed into my body. The warmth and fragrance reduce me to Jell-O. Am I detoxed as the treatment promises? Who cares. I head to the outdoor pool and fantasize about our next hedonistic adventure: dinner.

“Good evening” says the tall young man who swoops down upon us, ready to fulfill our every wish. I’m having trouble focusing on menu choices. Instead, I’m fixated on the room, a splendid turn-of-the-century barn with high ceilings and massive beams.

I place the snowy white antique linen napkin on my lap and scan the French china and sterling silver. Given the game plan, we anticipate a hoity-toity menu. While there is plenty of haute cuisine, the forward-thinking chef creatively combines fancier fare with southern Foothills food. And, he doesn’t take himself too seriously–Guinea Hen Croquettes with White Truffle Sauce are served on a bed of “straw” topping a piece of tree bark. My husband’s pate is served on slate at the same time my Swiss Chard Salad is presented on white gold-rimmed china.

Dinner may be the star each day but breakfast and lunch aren’t far behind. Both are served in a room you would expect to find in a private country estate. In our cozy banquette, surrounded by the owner’s impressive art collection and antique furnishings, we decide that the most beautiful art (and there’s plenty of it) is the daily vista of fog hanging over the Smokies as viewed from the sprawling stone terrace.

By day three, we’re accustomed to being spoiled. At checkout, a perky young man appears with two boxed lunches for our trip home. Even they aren’t ordinary–turkey sandwiches with scallion mayonnaise on rosemary flatbread, containers of radish and stewed-apple salad and the most extraordinary chocolate chip cookies on the planet.

As we drive down the country road, with windows wide open, a blast of fresh warm air whips my face. All I can utter is one word, ‘a-maz-ing.’ Maybe tomorrow I’ll think of something more poetic. [gallery ids="101828,139214,139219,139225,139208,139228,139240,139236,139233" nav="thumbs"]