Notes from the Vineyard II.
It felt as if time had stopped, and with the exception of a brand new litter of Goldens, things were precisely as I remembered them.
From the strawberry patterned runner on the kitchen table, to the turquoise Schwinn leaning against the porch railing, to the brass key tucked under the doormat, to the ever present scent of bread baking in the oven, if any place other than home could feel like home, this rambling old B&B in Chilmark is the closest I’ve ever come.
It’s why I came back, and why I know I’ll keep coming back. Because there are times a body longs for familiarity in lieu of adventure, when autopilot beats charting new territory, when a bike ride to the beach trumps waitress service at the pool, and a slightly lumpy featherbed feels exponentially more heavenly than the pillow top in a five star hotel ever could.
How ironic that life unplugged can be the most effective way to recharge.