Honeymoon II - Day One

We left this morning at 8:00 and arrived at Biltmore around 4.  I slept most of the morning, and engaged in prayer for the Body as I took my driving shift.  Nice and quiet.  I noticed on the road that my anxiety level was very low compared to how it is usually driving on the highway.  I finally realized it was because the trucks were restricted to the right lane, and a reduced speed.   It became evident that they actually meant it, and I soon dropped my anxious expectation that at any minute I would be overrun by, hemmed in by, passed on the wrong side by , or molested in any way by a speeding monster of sixteen wheels and sizeable decibels.  Ahhh…this will be a good day.

As we turned in to the Biltmore estate grounds a quietness settled on us.  That feeling, profoundly related to an all out relaxation response, would become the norm over the next few days.  At the moment I did not realize I would have to traverse some 8000 acres to find my way out of it…of course, never would I have wanted to.

The highlight on the road happened when I just couldn’t wait to go to the bathroom.  We were trying to make it to Berea before we stopped.  It’s a good thing we couldn’t’.  Instead we pulled off at the Kentucky Visitor’s Center, code for the arts and artisan Mecca of the region.   The center displays and sells the work of  the local mountain artists guild.  The richness of the work displayed and for sale there is reminiscent Granville Island Artist Colony in Van Couver in diversity and quality.  They are also, evidently, very serious about their food, as evidenced by their fresh sweet corn pudding and mashed potatoes ‘peeled here this morning’.  Comfort food, great art, beautiful setting…happy surprises.

When we arrived at Biltmore, the Inn on the hill was like entering an elegant, serene, round the clock tea party.  I still find a subliminal relaxation as I exhale thinking about the experience.  We embraced it gladly as our four day residence, and trundled out immediately in our tennis to explore the village below.  We decided to go off the designated path, of course, and opted for the running-straight down-the-hill-through-meadow-and-woods-Dave dragging-Lisa-by-the-hand approach.  It certainly got us there faster…landing us behind the service entrance to the winery.  Much more  exciting that way.

The hike back up the hill to our new home created an invigorating sense of accomplishment.  My new hips were proving to be, as promised, God’s way of providing me the kind of hiking mobility and freedom of movement to which I was accustomed during my young adult years.  The celebration appropriate for such a revelation, and symbolizing our new beginning,  was a meal fit for royalty in Biltmore’s finest restaurant.  Among the highlights were the shiitake crusted filet mignon with espresso whipped potatoes, wilted chard, and Vidalia onion jus, as well as the roasted sweet corn soup, and the goat cheese cake with raspberry merlot sorbetto and berry drizzle.  

Light as a feather.  We felt like guests of the Biltmores themselves.