The weather wasn’t on our side this weekend.
We left from my house after work on Friday. It had been deeply cloudy and rainy all day and the temperature stuck in the low 50s, but it didn’t matter because all we were going to do was drive an hour, have dinner and relax.
We stayed at a sprawling hotel that’s nestled among acres and acres of trees. The inside is gorgeous, all soaring wood ceilings supported by huge douglas fir columns and beams.There’s a three-story stone fireplace, windows overlooking the acreages and plenty of comfortable leather club chairs all over the place.
We ended up in a couple of those chairs while we waited for a table to open in the dining room. Although we had reservations, they were busy and one table of people were too busy talking to leave. The hostess was apologetic and offered us a complimentary appetizer in the bar. Neither of us was in the mood for the bar atmosphere. We opted to wait in an out-of-the-way corner not far from the dining room.
After dinner we stepped out on the terrace, hoping to go for a walk. Heavy mist, nearly drizzle, forced us into a dry spot beneath the roof overhang. Blaine, normally a roll-with-it sort of guy, seemed unsettled, a bit tense. I wasn’t sure why but guessed it was because the rain was going to spoil all of the plans.
“I have a crazy idea,” I said, from my spot huddled against him.
“Tell me.”
“Let’s change clothes, put on our rain jackets and take a walk.” I felt a breath of a chuckle in chest.
“It could get pretty wet.”
“We’ll dry.” Although I didn’t add it, I thought it wouldn’t matter if our clothes were still damp in the morning because there was no chance it would be dry enough to take the trails.
Wearing jeans, hiking boots (him)/shoes (me), a couple of layers and rainproof jackets, we followed a boardwalk that connects the hotel with several other buildings on the property. We didn’t take it to the end because we decided to detour onto a wood-chip path through a planted forest. (Guess whose idea that was.) Those paths weren’t illuminated and it became too dark to see if we were about to trip over a tree root. I reluctantly admitted we should turn back. And we did, although we didn’t start walking right away.
The next morning we were ready to go early, just as we had planned when we thought we had a chance of getting to the park and finishing one of the short trails before the rain set in. There was zero hope of that. It was already raining steadily, and heavier rain wasn’t far away. Blaine wanted to go to the park anyway, an idea I fully supported.
While we waited at the registration desk to check out, Blaine suddenly turned toward me. “Want to spend another night?”
Well, yeah.
Luck finally came over to our side when the desk clerk said they were not yet fully booked.
I know the area relatively well because all of my extended family lives in that direction. Since it no longer mattered when we arrived at the park, I had Blaine turn onto a lightly traveled two-lane highway that is hilly and windy and cuts passes by small fields, mostly corn this year. It’s one of the prettiest stretches of highway I’ve come across. Blaine slowed to well below the speed limit and cracked the window.
“Smelling the corn?” I asked. He smiled, nodded. It’s something my brother does and my dad, uncles and cousin always did. Something about harvest time that’s special.
“Do you like it?” he glanced at me.
It isn’t a scent I can even pinpoint. Usually all I smell is dust. “I’m more an early summer sweet clover girl.”
His smile broadened. “That’s good too.”
By the time we arrived at the park, the yellow portion of the rain shown on radar had reached us. Blaine pulled into a parking area along the river. We hadn’t seen any other cars outside those in the camping areas so Blaine took the liberty of creating a parking space that faced a break in the trees so we had a decent view of the river. The rain pounded the car.
Blaine relaxed against the headrest and looked over at me. “Thinking about how much fun you’re having?”
I nodded toward the bit of river we could see through the trees. “I was thinking about all the dead stuff that’s flowing past us right now.” When I was a kid we would occasionally come to the river, and I swear there was always at least one bloated cow floating with the fast current as if it had somewhere to get to before it exploded.
It took a second but Blaine laughed. I reached over and took his hand. We both leaned toward the middle until our shoulders touched. That’s pretty much how we stayed for next couple of hours. Finding things to talk about has never been a problem. Silences have become comfortable.
When the rain finally backed off to a mist, we put our hoods up and went for a walk along the asphalt road. When we’d had enough of the damp and felt thoroughly chilled, we turned back. “At least we made it this far,” I said, gesturing to the park. “Next time we will make it onto a trail.”
“Our luck suggests we’ll come across a bunch of bobcats.”
I slipped my hands around his arm. “Or we might only see one mountain lion. Keep the faith!”
“If we’re really lucky it will be feeding on a deer and won’t need to kill us.”
“That would be a huge improvement to our luck!” I bumped my shoulder into his. “And you thought I was morbid to wonder about dead things in the river.”
When we had wrung all the fun we could out of the endless rain, we left the park. We found a tavern in a tiny town. It wasn’t busy--only three other people--when we walked in. They let me watch the Cubs game until the football game started. I took some ribbing for liking baseball. Someone suggested I was a bandwagon fan. Blaine cleared that up on my behalf, which I thought was sweet.
We watched the Cubs lose and then we watched the football team lose.
At least the rain had stopped by the time we left. When we got back to the hotel, we hit the boardwalk again, this time going all the way to the end, which is the best part for there is an apple orchard that sells all things apple, including one of my favorites--cider slushies. Blaine passed on the slushie (although he had several tastes of mine), getting a large hot cider instead. All of the apple went to our heads because we walked away carrying a small basket of apples, too. Because we’re going to make apple pie. Sure.
On the drive home today we agreed it had been a good weekend, maybe even better than we had planned.
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