Our last morning at the B&B; I explore the library which is filled to the rafters with books but this antique rocker gets my attention.
The front door knocker is a great one to add to my collection of photos from my travels in Italy.
Luckily, I get another photo of the ever elusive quail.
Zoe, resident greeter and security, comes to say good bye.
At Bliss Bakery in Peachland, we are blissfully unaware of what awaits us as we head up the Connector. The highway goes from dry two lanes to one lane to compact snow and blizzard conditions at the summit.
In Merritt we encounter a mini blizzard but it is nothing compared to what we just survived.
It was a wonderful weekend but we are so glad to be home!
Bright and early Sunday morning we walk the McCullough Trestle Trail; the vineyards are meticulously pruned, the apple trees are festooned with blossoms, and we spot quail, robins, and bluejays on the trail.
At Angelo's coffee shop, we are treated to free anniversary coffees and a special breakfast.
We continue celebrating with lunch at the pub with family and for dinner, a table for two at the Heritage Inn.
It is cold and windy but we still stop in Peachland for a quick walk along the lake and to get goodies at Bliss Bakery.
At Hillside Winery we replenish our cellar with bottles of Gamay Noir - Old Vines.
A very quick stop at the pub for a snack and something to wet our whistle.
Our hostess at the B&B is not at home when we arrive but the note by the front door insists that we make ourselves at home and we do.
We walk out from our room and do some exploring. The wind is cold, the lake is choppy, but we relax instantly as we walk along the beach.
Our room is sumptuous, appointed with a huge bed, chandeliers everywhere, and a stunning lake view.
The bath is equally inviting, with twin copper bowl sinks, a large claw foot tub and an equally generous shower area. Thought and care put into every detail.
There are more tassels in our room then I can shake a tassel at.
Before dinner, we drive up Smethurst and have a walk on the Kettle Valley Railway Trail but the cold wind cuts it short. The view as always breathtaking.
Thirty-one years ago as I walked the halls of the hospital, I would look down on these trees. But as of today they are no more.
