Chirping Birds, Tea & Scones

I hear Laurie-Annya bustling around in the kitchen and wake Grandma, whom I know will be very cross with me if I let her sleep through even a short visit with our charming hostess. As I move things around, I can hear them talking in the kitchen. The chef is concerned that she's put too much milk in the scones this morning and warns that they may turn out more like pancakes.

She couldn't have been more deliciously wrong. They were just perfect. We gather around the perfectly-set table, with beautiful cutwork linen, antique silver in a variety of patterns, and raise our lovely teacups. There's fresh figs on a bright bowl of fruit, and the scones absolutely burst with fat, juicy blueberries. They taste slightly salty, which was such a delightful compliment to the sweetness of the berries and the velvety texture of the biscuit. Yum.

We sit around the table for a while, enjoying the sound of the birds outside before we start packing up. We're heading into Mystic, Connecticut, this morning. Into the Mystic. I just love Van Morrison, something my mother instilled in me. I remember being up north in Leelanau, sitting in a restaurant with her, listening to the musician perform a rendition of this song. It's a favorite memory, and as a result, a favorite song. I play it for Gram as we sit at Laurie-Annya's kitchen table, saying it will be our theme song for today.  

It's blaring on the radio as we drive into Mystic and to our big stop: the Mystic Aquarium. We putter around, wandering through exhibits with all manner of fish and reptiles, watching the sea lions and penguins swim in their underwater habitats, touching the manta rays, and ogling the gorgeous beluga whales. One of the little penguins seems particularly taken with Grandma. A few times, he hovers right in front of her, suspended in the chilly water, and just stares. It must be the white hair.

Afterwards, we head into town and Mystic Pizza for lunch. We've heard it isn't great, bit it isn't half bad, either. I you remember that you're just going for pizza, and can forget that at this time last year you were eating it in Naples, you'll enjoy it. Especially with the Mystic Bridge IPA. I mean, how can I resist that? The bridge in Mystic is actually up when we roll into town. The beer is as yummy as this little town. It is absolutely darling and every bit worth a visit, especially in the off season without all the crowds. 

We get on the road around 4:30 or so. I'm so sleepy from the beer that we end up making an emergency stop at Marshall's on the way. We walk away, pocketbooks unharmed, and with me alert enough to make it the other ten miles we needed to go to get to tonight's lodging ... where our neighbor is a horse.

It's a bit tricky to find, but in a few minutes, we're rolling up to the barn as Mo, our hostess, walks over to greet us from the main house. She gets us settled in and takes us in to meet the four legged tenant next door. She tells us a little history of the farm. It was built in just three months in the 1940's, when the owners of two cottages at the front of the property became concerned about providing for their families near the onset of World War II. They planted gardens here and raised pigs to help weather those uncertain times. Her family bought the farm portion more than a decade ago, and have raised three sons and countless chickens here. Her eldest has just finished an amazing adventure -- a three month sail through the Northwest Passage -- and is on his way back to the nest.

We're tired and not too hungry after a big lunch, opting to stay in get to bed early. It is chilly, so Mo brings us an extra blanket, sharing some of the family's dinner with us -- spinach and kale quiche. I'm assuming the eggs are from the farm. It is unexpected, and totally lovely. Ironic, too, since this week's blog post on We The Eaters will feature quiche, too! I can hear the horse walking around just on the other side of the wall from us, while Grandma snores on the couch. Think I'll curl up with a book before I pull my earplugs out and haul her into bed.

Sleep well!