We drove up on a wet bleak day from Boston. It rained all the way here and though I've read that drive to the White Mountains was one of the prettiest in New England, between the rain and the fog I really couldn't tell. With every drop that fell we imagined the snow melting away and wondered if there'd be enough left for skiing. We did stumble across a shop selling Amish quilts and drive over one of the famous covered bridges and there were a smattering of gorgeous barns set in snowy fields and iced rivers and ponds to give us a taste of rural New Hampshire.
Our arrival at Black Mountain, somewhat confusingly in the White Mountains, lifted our spirits. The Inn we are staying in is everything you would imagine or hope for in a ski lodge, from the wood pile out the front and the sloped ceilings to the beds made from branches and the bear and moose theme throughout. The girls counted 71 representations of wildlife in our cottage including moose clasps for the shower curtain and the fine bear lamp you see above. These was a time when I would have found this type of decor somewhat tasteless. Oh how we change! I now find it utterly adorable and not even in an ironic way. Beware, I'll be sewing quilted potholders with appliquéd fauna soon. Our breakfast choices included Belgian waffles and bacon, pancakes and bacon, French toast and bacon and the more traditional (to me) accompaniment to bacon, eggs. It prompted a discussion about whether the Belgians have waffles like that, or whether French toast is recognised in France. There are no Boston buns in Boston we've discovered.
After yesterday's unending rain we had the most gorgeously perfect day to ski. We booked all the kids in for a lesson and I also had one. I've tried twice before to ski with no luck. I never got beyond the fact that I was freezing cold and my feet hurt and my thighs were shaking with the effort of trying to get up all the time. This time I managed a slow (and magestic) snow plough down the very gentlest of slopes. Lil flat out refused to participate in her paid lesson but was very happy to have her sisters and far less qualified mother impart what we had learned. Anyway it was such a spectacularly good day on the mountain and so unseasonably warm and the surroundings were so ridiculously story-book pretty, that it was a treat to be there, skiing or not.