I’m back finally – still sniffing and snorting with this cold that will not go away. But we’re glad to be home.
Gizmo Guy and I have been in Niagara Falls for the last few days staying in a beautiful bed and breakfast called Park Place. Our suite – the Prince of Wales suite – included a king sized bed, woodburning fireplace, a huge bathroom with a sauna, walk in shower and whirlpool bath, a private balcony overlooking a lovely little courtyard, and – oh my heaven’s I’m still stuffed – handcooked breakfasts delivered right to our bedroom.
We wandered around during the day – went up to Niagara on the Lake that borders the Niagara River and Lake Ontario. It’s a small town of 15,000, and home of the Shaw Festival where they’ve strived to keep that ‘old’ feeling.
This is the Prince of Wales Hotel. Far pricier than the Prince of Wales Suite we stayed in at the Park Place B&B. But you’re paying for the location and the ambience.
For those of you not familiar with the Niagara region, it’s Ontario’s ‘fruit region’, probably because of its warm location nestled between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie. According to our tour guide Tom at the Jackson Triggs winery, the warm air comes off of the lake and flows over the land and then hits the Niagara Escarpment and flows back, allowing them to grow fruits and vegetables other parts of the country can’t grow.
Yes, I went to a winery. Several. Each tour we took ended in a wine tasting that included samples from at least four different bottles of wine. And they expected us to drink the large portions they gave us – this was no taste-and-spit-it-in-a-bucket experience. Now I’m not a drinker usually, but I do enjoy a glass of wine about twice a year – usually at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Luckily enough Gizmo Guy doesn’t care for wine so he became my designated driver. If the police are ever looking to give out tickets, all they need do is position themselves down the road from a winery after a tour gets out. I was hoping all that alcohol would kill the cold germs I was fighting. No such joy, but at least I didn’t care about it so much after my tours.
So now I’m back home and raring to get back to writing. While I was away, my brain was churning over ideas so fast I was dreaming of storylines. It was as if my brain couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t writing anymore. And here I thought I was being nice by giving it a week off.