P and I had a little getaway this weekend, a wander around the Texas hill country to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. We stayed at a bed and breakfast nestled into an old pecan grove, perched above a cypress-lined creek and across from a meadow full of deer and wild lantana. My mom, who recommended this particular B&B, calls it her happy place. And now that I've been there, I can see why.
We rested and relaxed, we ate wonderful food, we hit up Oktoberfest and a few local wineries (there are like 30 wineries in the hill country, no lie), we bought t-shirts, and the bed part of the bed and breakfast magically fixed the literal pain in my neck I'd had for the entire week before we left.
It was a wonderful, wonderful little break. And it's good to be home, too. And it's been in the 40s and 50s in the mornings ever since we got back. And that's alright with me.
A weekend is all one needs every now and then, and there's no need to fly for 72 gazillion hours if you ask me. Sometimes the best things are just around the corner.
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