The room is massive,
the floor carpeted
and the walls are wood.
Overhead, the ceiling is high and blue at first, then cloud white. The decor is natural materials and the air conditioning is on, but it is comfortable.
Homemade bread is on the menu, made into sub rolls and filled with slices of fresh chicken breast cooked this morning. Switchel, fresh brewed black, unsweetened tea, is served รก la thermos. It is self service and we sit comfortably in our camp chairs at the portable table brought from home.
As we feast, spruce trees, at least fifty feet tall, sway in the breeze on slender trunks. Deciduous trees, having shed their clothing, stand majestically in their gray-black beauty. An unseen hand touched a dimmer switch making the trees as silhouettes against the sky, wallpaper for the room.
We eat slowly, consuming the natural wonder of the place, the sound of the breeze and the occasional creaking tree. Conversation is easy after forty plus years, but silence in this place feels natural too. Soon the cold and snow will keep us indoors more than we'd like, but today, this room is perfect.