Whisper Edition Benefit Auction for Rocking the Boat

Whisper Editions

I am very pleased that one of my photographs from Darien, Georgia has been selected to be auctioned off September 21 in New York at the Whisper Editions Lodge to benefit the awesome local charity Rocking the Boat along with the work of many talented and well known artists.

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Please reach out if you are interested in publishing the full story "Raised in the River," for the password to view the full Photo Essay, up on the site now.

Portillo : The warmest kind of winter

Portillo, Chile

Sunset coming across Laguna del Inca.  Especially on cloudier nights there are a few moments of perfect incandescent light, best viewed alone down on the shore.

Sunset coming across Laguna del Inca.  Especially on cloudier nights there are a few moments of perfect incandescent light, best viewed alone down on the shore.

My father and I arrived at Portillo Hotel on a Saturday in July amid full blown arrivals and departures chaos in the chalet style hotel lobby which felt more reminiscent of summer camp than anything we had ever seen at a ski resort.  Although my father had been following the snow forecasts closely for weeks in anticipation of our trip (it was one of the worst seasons on record) we knew little about the resort culturally, other than the obvious.  Portillo has long Chilean heritage, as it was build in the 1940’s and sits at 9,450feet in the Andes roughly two hours from Santiago Chile, making it one of the prime southern hemisphere ski destinations in July – August, which usually is peak snow season.

Standing outside the hotel in the steep chasm between the Andes in which the bright yellow and blue hotel sits quite alone, and is dwarfed by, watching people come and go, hugging as they departed, I realized this wasn’t going to be my usual dirt bag ski week in Montana, during which the sum total of my social scene was usually grabbing a few beers and wings at the brewery with friends who work in local seasonal outdoor sports after skiing.

Instead, try in your mind combining, the social vibe of the resort from Dirty Dancing, add the heritage of the grand old hotels of the Northeast of the US, back when tradition still lead the way, plus a pinch of a small classy cruise ship or adult summer camp feel (guests stay Saturday to Saturday) and place this mixture on the snow, in 2017, in Chile, with an international collection of dedicated skiers, and you have Portillo.  The hotel floats in the great isolation and beauty of the Andes, almost at sea in the deep valleys, for all it sweet isolation, with the constant thread of trucks on the international road the only reminder of a world beyond winter sports and the isolated paradise.

Hotel Portillo dwarfed by the Andes all around it.

Hotel Portillo dwarfed by the Andes all around it.

I met many Chileans whose parents had brought them, and who now brought their children to ski, and bond in the safety of a place where kids can still road free because everyone is keeping an eye out and by the end of the week everyone knows everyone. 

The ski and boot guys are well known for getting to know all the guests and having your gear in hand before you ask, which somehow comes off like family, not pretentious, and Petra the gangly new Saint Bernard puppy walks through the halls, mauled with pets and love which she ambivalently receives.

The altar to "El Papa" in the hotel bar, with no irony or contradiction.  Traditions, late night partying, moneyed guests, staff and dirtbag skiers all mix easily.

The altar to "El Papa" in the hotel bar, with no irony or contradiction.  Traditions, late night partying, moneyed guests, staff and dirtbag skiers all mix easily.

Unknowingly, we had signed up to attend during the beloved Portillo Wine week, with tastings by famed Chilean wineries each night, cheap seats in the back fidgeted and guzzled while the front seats swirled with skill and took notes. Many guests knew each from past Portillo Wine Week for years and bonded, keeping in touch in between hotly anticipated visits.

And Portillo it turns out is well known on both the pro big mountain and national race team training circuits, as well as high up on the bucket list for dirtbag skiers, and so is well known for a great social scene, which revolves first around the hot tubs, with arguably one of the best views in the world, then the living room, dining room, the hotel bar, and after hours La Posada, the staff bar.  (There is also a disco, but I never really saw that happening, and the cinema shows films twice and evening.)

My dad and I fell somewhere outside of these groupings, as regulars in Big Sky where we have a house, we were used to long days on the mountain and serious rest to get back after it. But what we found at Portillo was what we needed far more out of this trip, it was a vacation. Because of the particularly poor snowfall everyone waited for the sun to warm the ice at 10, and lunch seatings were at 12:30 so our day naturally slowed down.  (You sit at the same table, same times, with the same waiters all week, reminiscent of the grand old era of hotels like the Mount Washington.) And a few afternoons after ricocheting off of rocks on Roca Jack like a ball in a pinball machine, and making a great time out of gnarly conditions, we joined half of the guests and now friends up at Tio Bob’s, the beer and burger shack high above Laguna del Inca to hear stories of past years.

The trails all run down to Laguna del Inca which sits on the border of Chile and Argentina, so a steady stream of trucks chug up the pass, mixing with heli's taking off for powder runs.  But the location is remote and peaceful, just like none other. 

The trails all run down to Laguna del Inca which sits on the border of Chile and Argentina, so a steady stream of trucks chug up the pass, mixing with heli's taking off for powder runs.  But the location is remote and peaceful, just like none other. 

While drinking Escudo and Pisco Sours and watching the trucks painstakingly wind their way up the curves of the road which passes the hotel, and is a main road between Chile and Argentina, we heard stories of the time a wine tasting was hosted at Tio Bob’s, and was more a heavy drinking, with the wine girls dancing on the roof, and guests joining, many of whom skilled but drunk skiers, then had to have assistance skiing down Le Plateau to the hotel. That was never repeated an the winery in question never asked back, but a great story, and Portillo has these by hundreds. Just introduce yourself to whomever you get on the lift with and the conversations take off once you say you are a first timer.

Every morning people look up Roca Jack, one of the Negro Runs served by a slingshot (back to that in a moment) to see if anyone is hiking the Super C, and in the hot tub in the afternoon pass around stories of who skied what and who injured what.  One morning I saw a Peruvian new to snowboarding slinking around with his face quite bruised, and thought perhaps he had gotten into a bar fight as I had seen him at La Posada at 4am and it was only 10am.  He smiled with some embarrassment and said, no he had gone out on the snow hung over (drunk?) and the snow had taught him a lesson.  He was a bit slowed but undeterred in his dedication to Portillo and the fun.

Roca Jack is served by a slingshot and to give you a sense of scale the slingshot loading area is just above the Roca Jack written at the start of this caption. The lift serves about halfway up to the top ridgeline, the rest must be hiked for the Super C, with "no fall zone" traverses going left across the cliffs for great runs like Cara Cara, S Chute, Le Stadio, and more.

Roca Jack is served by a slingshot and to give you a sense of scale the slingshot loading area is just above the Roca Jack written at the start of this caption. The lift serves about halfway up to the top ridgeline, the rest must be hiked for the Super C, with "no fall zone" traverses going left across the cliffs for great runs like Cara Cara, S Chute, Le Stadio, and more.

The slingshot are another humbling very unique experience.  All of the advanced trails are served by these, which essentially are 4-5 poma lifts combined onto a bar, much like what a waterski would be like I imagine, so that 5 skiers fly up the steeps at 17 miles an hour. People fall en route as the tracks are ungroomed and interesting, or often in dismounting backwards, and the 10 step photo cartoons at the bottom only build the anxiety.  But like so much with skiing, a good walk through from any of the awesome instructors or ski patrol (who chill at the bottom of the slingshots) resolves 95% of the worries.

By the last day I had skied everything but Super C, and hope that someday I may add that to the list. Chris Davenport’s video, who was at Portillo in his 17th season prepping for the following week’s camps, is the best of it I have seen. I plan to take up his offer of some runs sometime in Montana or CO, hopefully work towards that next time I hit up Portillo. But for this trip our mission was a success, fun and total relaxation. When Dad, a first to last lifter since I was in diapers, suggested we cut out early on the second to last day for a beer with friends, I knew my work was done.

Traditional chairlifts run out of the base area up to the "Slingshots" serving Roca Jack, Cara Cara giving tired legs a respite and intermediate skiers a shot at runs. 

Traditional chairlifts run out of the base area up to the "Slingshots" serving Roca Jack, Cara Cara giving tired legs a respite and intermediate skiers a shot at runs. 

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McIntosh County, Georgia

Going down River with Collective Quarterly

The Big Cobb stays in the Estuary and Rivers as she is not a modern refrigerator boat and can only make day trips.  She is also in questionable shape with old age and time spend below the water.

The Big Cobb stays in the Estuary and Rivers as she is not a modern refrigerator boat and can only make day trips.  She is also in questionable shape with old age and time spend below the water.

I am just home from 3 months of travel and wanted to share some photos from my time in the Georgia Low Country with Collective Quarterly Magazine.

I had the great privilege of working with the crew of the second oldest shrimp boat in Darien, the Big Cobb, which has had a storied life including 2 weeks spent at the bottom of the Darien River after a fire which burned two other boats sank the Cobb.  Wynn, Arty and John Wayne shared the struggles of working in an industry which is both at the heart of a region and simultaneously barely surviving in a global economy.

Capt Wynn teaching me anatomy of shrimp the first day we met, a character through and through, although he balked when I said he loves life on the boat, it is what he does, and wants to do. 

Capt Wynn teaching me anatomy of shrimp the first day we met, a character through and through, although he balked when I said he loves life on the boat, it is what he does, and wants to do. 

On the waters of the Altamaha Estuary where the salt and fresh water mix, the men brought me into their work, and the emotional challenges of trying to make a living out of the water.  It was both beautiful and painful, and I feel extremely privileged to have had this experience.  To walk with them for a few days and really see the struggle.  They didn't hold back and for that I will be forever grateful.

I plan to publish the piece about Wynn, Arty and the Big Cobb, and in the meantime, a huge thanks to my editors Kim Hubbard and Mike Belleme (and no, this is not their final edit!) and to Seth and Jesse of Collective Quarterly!  We had an amazing group and experience.

Arty and I met in full darkness on the dock, and as the sun came up he told me he had just gotten out of jail, and of the deep love he has for his daughter and the jobs he works to raise her as a single parent.

Arty and I met in full darkness on the dock, and as the sun came up he told me he had just gotten out of jail, and of the deep love he has for his daughter and the jobs he works to raise her as a single parent.

The docks are quiet now most days, the machinery unused where there used to be shrimpboats tied up 3 deep only a decade ago.

The docks are quiet now most days, the machinery unused where there used to be shrimpboats tied up 3 deep only a decade ago.

A Yankee, I had never seen Spanish moss, or resurrection ferns and walked around watching them every time it rained, which gave brief respite to the humidity and fierce bugs, before bringing them down worse.  This is not an easy place to live but people are deeply devoted and said we shouldn't let the secret get out.

A Yankee, I had never seen Spanish moss, or resurrection ferns and walked around watching them every time it rained, which gave brief respite to the humidity and fierce bugs, before bringing them down worse.  This is not an easy place to live but people are deeply devoted and said we shouldn't let the secret get out.

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For information on publishing the photo series "Raised in the River; Big Cobb," please get in touch with me juliannegauron AT gmail.com . These are outtakes not the final Photo Essay.

Grace in Adventure

British Columbia, Canada

After years in sports, I know that showing up is not enough.  In fact the physical is the easy part, it is the mental, the mental management of the physical that is the key to it all, to performance, endurance and enjoyment.

And I had the pleasure of spending some time adventuring in the Canadian pacific northwest late this spring and was reminded that in back country sports, with a longer outlook, showing up with a combination of strength and grace is key.  I could not gut out these sports with my usual burst of energy, and use recovery days for sore muscles.  Rather on a paddling camp trip, on days after biking and hiking days, I needed to find a place in inner calm and really settle into each stroke, and be in the moment.  My impatience would not serve me. 

Instead it was a lesson in finding beauty in the moment and just being there in each paddle stroke, not considering the next one, or recalling the last.  If I worried or wondered too much, I would frustrate myself and burn energy. 

It was literally spatially constrained meditation, and was it stunning once I found the zen in it.  Soaring pine forested mountains, topped by retreating snows high over salty fjord waters lapped with kitten paw waves whipped up by the sunset breezes. One night we watched the shifting palette of sunset mark time passing and distance gained across the fjord, as we slowly paddled towards the fading light and camp.

And skiing in 75' weather high above the chilly Pacific winding through the waterways between the islands and the Straight of Georgia, well, it was heaven, let's be perfectly clear.  But it also again took a mental calm combined with cardio, to work through the heat and the excitement I felt about all the beauty to pace myself, in terms of energy, enthusiasm, and even hydration.  I couldn't "blow out my hip-flexors" as people tend to do, if I wanted to come back for many runs over many days of earning my turns, skinning laps. 

And in order to bring energy to the downhill I brought joy to the uphill, loving the duality of the work up and then flow down, which only make turns, and beers in between that much cooler and sweeter.  I am hooked on this mode of skiing, meditation muscle and flow!

And in a bigger sense, with my genetic gifted migraines picking up significantly under the load of my mothers illness these last few years, I am intensely reminded of the joy, and blessing, of a healthy able body, the feeling of sweat pouring down my back, my lungs working in concert with my legs, my core and my back straining in balance, as my arms swing in cadence with my feet, and pulling me up a mountain, across a sound, or (god help me) up and down a mountain bike trail. 

These are gifts not to be taken for granted, and the ability to play in the great outdoors is by no means a given.  So even when I get cramps on a run and settle into the fact that the aches and pains are the good kind, the healthy and alive kind, man, do I want to do this kind of fully alive living every day, every hour. 

Our physicality is the ultimate escape, and the great outdoors the best playground we will ever find!  So until next time, body - and by that, I mean tomorrow...

SXSW Interactive 2017 (in purple and pink)

Austin, Texas of course !

It seems that when I got out and about at SXSW this year the colors were purple and pink, that was not a trend or theme, or most importantly anything to do with futurecasting.

Working with Kenzen at SXSW was a grand success and such a learning experience as we move rapidly forwards.
And attending the National Geographic Explorer VIP party was a highlight-of my year!  These fabulous people and this organization is basically one of the drivers of why I am who I am, and I was far more star struck there by the amazing photographers and social impact and emphasis on truth and "the important thing is not to stop questioning" than I would have with any band, film or such.  Absolutely awesome!

It was also wonderful to see Cindy Hsin-Liu Kao and Asta Roseway and co win at the Interactive Innovation Awards for DuoSkin in the Future Now category.  I have watched Cindy work on this tech at the Media Lab for a while now and was thrilled when she partnered with Microsoft and by the huge press coverage, the award is well deserved and much to come I am sure!

And naturally any time at SXSW must be rounded out by a party with crazy installations, an epic house (which appeared purpose built for the party) and fun until I was too exhausted to stand. Cue flight home.

Back in God's Country

Big Sky, Montana

The chairlift up the Headwaters feels a bit like an elevator, and this week, going into the fog and wind, it felt even more so as visibility closed out.

The chairlift up the Headwaters feels a bit like an elevator, and this week, going into the fog and wind, it felt even more so as visibility closed out.

But skiing another chute of the face was a sweet accomplishment and the snow had accumulated nicely on the face, blowing 70 mph off the Lone Peak summit (closing it down) and on to this face.

But skiing another chute of the face was a sweet accomplishment and the snow had accumulated nicely on the face, blowing 70 mph off the Lone Peak summit (closing it down) and on to this face.

Heading into Yellowstone's Northwest corner for an escape, I could hear elk calling as another snow squall closed in.  More than usual, this week, the Montana saying "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes" seemed spot on, as we watched systems blow in, get caught on peaks and in valleys, and move on,

Heading into Yellowstone's Northwest corner for an escape, I could hear elk calling as another snow squall closed in.  More than usual, this week, the Montana saying "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes" seemed spot on, as we watched systems blow in, get caught on peaks and in valleys, and move on,

Yellowstone is of course rich with geological learnings and wonders.

Yellowstone is of course rich with geological learnings and wonders.

Finn and I practicing our Sky Patrol Dog carry, it was going really well until she decided to start licking my face.  I am still pulling blond feathered fur out of my mouth too btw Finn, thanks for that.  Ah, well that's family for you.

Finn and I practicing our Sky Patrol Dog carry, it was going really well until she decided to start licking my face.  I am still pulling blond feathered fur out of my mouth too btw Finn, thanks for that.  Ah, well that's family for you.

10 Life Lessons I learned Skiing

As someone who was on skis before she was out of diapers, skied every winter for 33 years, and raced on the D1 collegiate circuit, before relearning recreational enjoyment, I'd say I grew up on skis.  (Oh and my middle name is literally snow.)

And was the mountains are one hell of a school to attend.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I still remember the awe of my first double black, accomplished by the old school parenting, “you can do it” shouted as my Dad sailed away, and so I did. Hail storms, lighting storms, blinding snow storms.  Milestone victories I can still feel residual joy from and wrecks I was afraid pick myself up from.  I even fell into a lake once, but that’s another story. 

But to me skiing is mostly joy and camaraderie, absolute freedom in nature, arcing through whistling crystal blue silence, feeling muscles and metal carve through snow.

Distilled, here are hard won lessons learned in the mountains, but which serve me daily creating a meaningful life on and off the snow.

Ten Life lessons I learned skiing :

1. The first turn is always the hardest. Life is a head game, make that turn, and the rest will link up.

2. Check in and adjust as you go.  Be open to even the small opportunities for improvement.  In skiing, ironically, tweaking your hand position is often an easy fix for all sorts of big picture problems.  Never discount these chances to improve.

3. Be independent and enjoy the ride, but look to friends, in the tough times and in the good times, too.

4. Look past the obstacles, never straight at them, in order to sail right past. (Hello, tree skiing.)  I cannot state the importance of this lesson enough-mountain or life.  You will go wherever your focus on.

5. 90% of what actually happens on the mountain is about preparation. The hard work you do in land training and mental preparedness shape what happens on the slopes.

6. Be focused, but have don't forget to smile and enjoy— play your tunes, have munchies in your pocket, and take in the beauty you get to see on your courageous journey.  You are in your one precious life after all, this is not a training run!

7. Take care of your gear and your gear will take care of you.

8. When you land on your face, assess, and then allow yourself a good laugh.  You are human and allowed to make mistakes, falling with style is a good reminder of this.  (For added points, stick the landing with some flair for the judges.)

9. Never be afraid to ask for advice.  You will learn so much, make friends, and you truly never know who you will meet (in the lift line of life!) and what adventures will follow a simple conversation.

10. Whoop it up whenever you are feeling it.  Squash any thoughts of being mature and holding it back – you’re alive, your rocking your life and you are blessed.   Love it and celebrate it!

Berlin, a designer's dream city

With my design traveling 710 New Balance red sneakers on and ready to travel we headed out to get coffee in a city proud of it's coffee.  (Sadly getting down to my last pair of these amazing shoes Kai/NB!)

We organized our days around coffee and breakfast, and this turned out to be a brilliant strategy, as hip coffee shop = hip neighborhood.  And after the caffeine kicked in there was time to check out the amazing deep and intense history of Berlin.

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In preparation for his run, Ryan checked out the finish of the Marathon at Brandenburger Tor while some kiddo's warmed up for a short inline skating race.  I had never seen a roller blade marathon, but Saturday there was a full roller blade Marathon before the runners on sunday.  It was pretty cool honestly, and looked slightly more viable to me, though still rough.

Brunch at Roamers, quite possibly the best in Berlin, a city of brunches!  And the people watching here, like all of Berlin, is awesome and the crowd here in particular could inform NYFW of what is coming next!

Brunch at Roamers, quite possibly the best in Berlin, a city of brunches!  And the people watching here, like all of Berlin, is awesome and the crowd here in particular could inform NYFW of what is coming next!

Lazy Saturdays done right - the European way, unhurried over a beer and a cigarette in Volkspark Friedrichshain.

Lazy Saturdays done right - the European way, unhurried over a beer and a cigarette in Volkspark Friedrichshain.

After starting our day at Silo Coffee in Friedrichshain we wandered through the park, and I was reminded of yet another reason I love Europe, and miss calling it home.  These people know how to live well.  Whether it was a game of bocce, a picnic overlooking fields and then Fernsehturm (Television tower)  fly fishing lessons in the park or more dogs living the good life, weekends are taken seriously here.  And dogs like well, by the way.  Even at fancier, restaurants like Neni, where tourists make up half the guests, dogs sat politely under the table, and throughout the city well behaved dogs ambled alongside owners off leash.  I am pretty sure my dog Mia is a Berliner at heart.

The restaurant, Neni Berlin, atop of the achingly cool 25 Hour Hotel has a cool Ace Hotel vibe, but with a uniquely German and Berlin aspect.  Be sure to check out the Monkey Bar across the hall after for drinks!

What remains of Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church is stunningly beautiful.  Also be sure to go across the street and check out the Bikini Berlin, the other end of the design spectrum, and a must see stop.  Cool pop up shops for local designers, food stands and events abound.

What remains of Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church is stunningly beautiful.  Also be sure to go across the street and check out the Bikini Berlin, the other end of the design spectrum, and a must see stop.  Cool pop up shops for local designers, food stands and events abound.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews

Memorial to the Murdered Jews

The Memorial to the Murdered Jews is a deeply moving memorial to walk through the 2,711 tomb like columns which wind slightly and vary in height set in the location of a key Nazi administrative site in the 3 million murders. 
Looking across the Memorial to the Murdered Jews, into Tiergarten, the memorial bleeds out into the city, into daily life, in an uncomfortable way, intentionally reminding us of the ambiguity of difficult subjects like guilt and innocence. The Memorial has been controversial, one reasons being that it is only dedicated to the Jewish dead, and so further memorials have been created in Berlin to the many other groups murdered in this era, including Catholic, Homosexual and Gypsy.

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As a creative, Scheunenviertel felt like ground zero for contemporary designers, thinkers and urban chic in the way that drew me in and felt like home.

As a creative, Scheunenviertel felt like ground zero for contemporary designers, thinkers and urban chic in the way that drew me in and felt like home.

Here are three boroughs which anyone artistically or architecturally inclined must check out after starting with your day gently with stellar coffee;
Ora in Kreuzberg
Silo Coffee in hip Friedrichshain
the Barn Roastery in Scheunenviertel area of the Mitte

Ora in Kreuzberg was a must for us, recently created in an old pharmacy in the east, this chic coffee shop is open til 4am, with a simple menu but fabulous old school apothecary decor.

Ora in Kreuzberg was a must for us, recently created in an old pharmacy in the east, this chic coffee shop is open til 4am, with a simple menu but fabulous old school apothecary decor.

While planning the long weekend in Berlin, my father told me that as a young man he got a visa & went through Checkpoint Charlie, when it was the gateway between wildly disparate worlds.  No one knew that he had crossed the Wall, and the East Berlin people he met were desperate and scared, looking to him for money, hope, clothing-anything.  He said it was an extraordinary experience and also deeply unnerving.

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Walking through Berlin this weekend, finding how much I love this vibrant city and the warm people, knowing my father walked in a moment of its painful past, however briefly, really brought home how recent it all is. And how resilient this city is.

 

A weekend of Weddings and Vermonting

Woodstock, Vermont

If you are looking for me, I will be moving in next week, and I will be on the dock behind the barn reflecting on life, and the mountains reflection on the pond, in this perfect Woodstock Vermont estate, a mix of classic New England modern and heritage, designed and intertwined seamlessly.  I am in love!

If you are looking for me, I will be moving in next week, and I will be on the dock behind the barn reflecting on life, and the mountains reflection on the pond, in this perfect Woodstock Vermont estate, a mix of classic New England modern and heritage, designed and intertwined seamlessly.  I am in love!

FH Gillingham and Son's is a 130 year old General store.  I Love general stores, not because I want everything in them (per se) but more because I adore the quirky and extensive mix of "genuine," local and lifetime guaranteed products.  I want to live a life amidst such character, charm and utility. 

FH Gillingham and Son's is a 130 year old General store.  I Love general stores, not because I want everything in them (per se) but more because I adore the quirky and extensive mix of "genuine," local and lifetime guaranteed products.  I want to live a life amidst such character, charm and utility. 

First course at the Jackson House Inn, my description will not do Rick and Kathy's artistry justice (breaded goat cheese, micro greens and chutney, all locally made and sourced)

First course at the Jackson House Inn, my description will not do Rick and Kathy's artistry justice (breaded goat cheese, micro greens and chutney, all locally made and sourced)

Second course of one day breakfast at the Jackson House Inn (again, roughly, local peaches, foraged ramps, house cured old world bacon, on corn cakes corn meal ground locally.)  Every day the meal is totally different and seasonal.  Needless to say this award winning Inn would be worth staying at for the breakfast alone!

Second course of one day breakfast at the Jackson House Inn (again, roughly, local peaches, foraged ramps, house cured old world bacon, on corn cakes corn meal ground locally.)  Every day the meal is totally different and seasonal.  Needless to say this award winning Inn would be worth staying at for the breakfast alone!

   "We shall not cease from exploration,      and the end of all our exploring,     will be to arrive where we started     and know the place for the first time.                                        - T. S. Eliot -

   "We shall not cease from exploration,
     and the end of all our exploring,
    will be to arrive where we started
    and know the place for the first time.
                                       - T. S. Eliot -

We all just stared at the MG in awe, and in the golden hour light, it all looked like a timeless dreamy moment.  Perfection.

We all just stared at the MG in awe, and in the golden hour light, it all looked like a timeless dreamy moment.  Perfection.

Photograph of us getting Cris out the door, brides maids, casual in color and classic Italian flower girls, taken by the talented Italian photographer, David Bozzalla.

Photograph of us getting Cris out the door, brides maids, casual in color and classic Italian flower girls, taken by the talented Italian photographer, David Bozzalla.

The classy newlyweds made a classic exit.  So much love and joy to these two.

The classy newlyweds made a classic exit.  So much love and joy to these two.