3/15/2015
The luxury of giant beds had been a distant memory until my stay at the Open Gates Bed and Breakfast. After a bath filled with bubbles, healing salts, and sports alcohol, I was ready for comfort. My head sank into the soft pillows while the bed cradled my limp body. It rendered me unconscious until the dark hours of the night when my hunger began to beckon. Not wanting to wake anyone I laid there and told myself I wasn’t hungry.
Morning arrived quickly. I woke to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. On the first floor of the house we met several other guests. Marilyn and Scott Sweetland were a couple from up North while Henry and Patty were from Sabastian Florida; a place we passed a couple weeks ago. We were all eager to take part in the treat Zachariah and Carrie had planned for us. They started us off with a plate of fruit. The banannas, strawberries, and apples were all thinly sliced. The tiny bites allowed me to savor the food. On a plate in the center of the table was a cinnamon roll creation created with rum. Crystal said it was the best cinnamon roll she had ever tasted.
When Carrie brought out the crepes, they looked like a photograph. Each one was perfectly rolled and filled with a custard. Berries embellished the French pancakes and a sprig of mint adorned the whipped cream on the side. I enjoyed the sight for a moment. Because I wouldn’t be eating with my eyes the beauty quickly disappeared into my tummy. Everyone at the table agreed the breakfast was something else. When we had finished eating, the couple took a moment to chat with us. It was then that we discovered the breakfast we had just eaten was the winner of BedandBreakfast.com’s “Best Breakfast” of 2014. The nourishment and rest had me feeling like royalty.
Church bells rang when I hit the road. The ring echoed through the quaint town. A couple miles after the city limits, the bugs swarmed once again. I needed tiny windshield wipers on my eyeballs as little black dots bombarded me and my field of vision. Some patches of road seemed to have bigger populations but there were always a few around.
I tried to take a few pictures at America’s smallest church but standing still only encouraged the bugs to so say hello. My only option was to stay mobile. I removed my shirt and put it over my nose and mouth. When I reached Riceboro I decided to call it the day, regroup, and fight again the next day. The rough days on the road gave me a deep appreciation of the kind people and beautiful places encountered. No doubt I was already reminiscing about the Open Gates Bed and Breakfast.
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