Going Home: Napa

Every once in awhile, my soul longs to go home- to reconnect with who I am and where I began.   I have many homes- places I've lived in and loved, where people and experiences have chiseled me bit by bit into my present self.  I long for each of those homes now and again. And of course, there's the home of all homes, the one I hope to return to when all is said and done.  I long for that one most of all.  But the home where I began- that one calls to me in regular intervals, coming upon me suddenly as a need that must be filled.  It beckons me to return and be refreshed.  When that happens, I'm struck with memories so tangible- sights and sounds and smells of my childhood that send a tingle right through me to my fingertips: memories of rolling hills and green grasses, seafood and ocean breezes, oak groves, orchards and vineyards...

 

I grew up in Northern California, just over the hills from Napa Valley.  Our backyard was those hills and orchards and vineyards, and our playground spread out into Napa, San Francisco, and the California coastline.  That country is my first home- the place where I can breathe deeply and infuse myself with life, even to this day.  It was shortly after Christmas when I felt that familiar tug to re-acquaint myself--with myself.  Fortunately, Creighton has a similar love for this area, so it wasn't hard to convince him that it was time for another pilgrimage.  Our birthdays fall on the same week in February, just before Valentines.  Combine all three, and you have the perfect excuse for a getaway.  So get away, we did.  Back home.  Just the two of us. 

 

The minute we landed, we made a beeline for Napa Valley.  Creighton and I lived in the Bay Area for a year and a half right after we were married.  For our first anniversary, he surprised me with a weekend in St. Helena, where we stayed at this old Victorian mansion, The Ink House.  That trip will live on forever in our memories.  I was expecting Luke, and sooo sick, but sooo in love.  It was such a happy time.  I've since been back to The Ink House with girlfriends, but not with Creighton, so we were excited to re-live the memories of that anniversary, and make some new ones this time around. 

 

  

We tried to get a shot of the two of us using the timer on my camera, but it didn't turn out so well, as you can see...  (Don't ask me what I'm doing with my leg, here.)

 

I made sure to get a few photos of the rooms this time.  I can't get enough of old homes (have I mentioned that??)  This one has pictures of the original owners and their descendants throughout the house.  I always get butterflies looking at old photos- imagining their reality and their stories.  We got back early enough from dinner that night that we had the home to ourself.   We had plenty of time to wander around and examine each and every photograph (just to be sure if we saw any ghosts later on, we'd know exactly who they were. ;)) 

 

 

Our room was very PINK.  Pepto Bismol Pink.  Such a manly color. Creighton felt right at home.

 

 

 

This is the room we stayed in on that first trip, many moons ago. 

 

The second night of that first anniversary trip, we upgraded to the fancy room, below.  It turns out that Elvis slept in this room once.  That's right, folks.  We learned this during our snoop-fest this time around.  According to an old article in the parlor, he was making a movie in the area and decided to hide out at the Ink House during the filming to avoid the paparazzi.  Just imagine-- it's possible that we've slept in the same bed as Elvis! (gasp.)  Hopefully they've changed the mattresses since then...

 

Intermission:

While in Napa, we spent some time wandering up and down the highway drooling over the vinyards and estate homes.  I snapped a few photos from the car window.  Aren't they dreamy?:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Believe it or not, the one below is my favorite.  I'm a farmhouse sorta girl, and this one is so much more charming in person than in the photo:

 

 

 

We pulled over for a tiny bit of antiquing...

 

 

 

And my oh my did we have some fine food in St. Helena.  Okay, I should probably express that in more formal terms, which you must hear with nasal undertones:

 

Dining in Napa Valley is a pure culinary delight. 

 

We are not wine drinkers, which might seem unfathomable in such a place, but we thoroughly enjoy visiting the wineries just to sample the breads and cheeses, olive oils, sauces and chocolate.  And the restaurants are the kind that will linger in your memory forever. Really and truly, everything I've ever eaten in this sun-kissed valley has been fantastic. 

 

Next comes the part I could not wait for: A bike ride through the valley around our Inn.  I was longing for this ride- for the beauty, for the solitude, for the perfection in the skies, the hills, trees and vines- for all of it fusing in the air, and infusing me with life and with home, so I could breathe- yet again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring arrived late this year, so the vines were still dormant, but the whole country was bursting with bright yellow mustard blossoms that filled my snow-weary soul right up with sunshine.  I kept marveling at the contrast between this and the bleak, frozen land in Utah we had just left: 

 

 

 

 

 

While on our bike ride, we happened upon a vineyard with multiple banners announcing that it had been awarded "Vineyard of the Year."  We figured that warrented further investigation and pedaled our way down the lane to the main buildings.  What we found was my version of Disneyland...

Up next.