Morning Glory Inn


[Deirdre] settled back in her seat and tried to distract herself by gazing at the scenery.  They were traveling between two seemingly endless rows of Eucalyptus trees.   Their papery trunks and blue-green leaves only partially obscured the surrounding fields.  Miles and miles of sun-drenched orchards and staked grapevines, extended across the valley floor, all the way to the green and gold foothills.   Beyond the hills she could see mountains: slate blue, verging on purple, only slightly darker than the clouds that lowered above them.

Finally, there was a break in the trees, and a large sign welcomed them to Lupa e Cervo.   As they passed through the winery’s wrought iron gate, she saw another, smaller sign directing them left, toward what appeared to be a castle.   But rather than turn there, as indicated, Seth veered to the right, following a narrow, two lane road that meandered northeast through the vineyard.

There were no trees to shelter them here from sun or rain or wind, and the air blowing in through the open windows was so hot and dry that it seared Deirdre’s eyeballs.   After several minutes, a classic, two-story, Victorian farmhouse shimmered into view.  From its gingerbread trimmed eaves to its white picket fence, it was picture perfect.

Deirdre smiled eagerly when yet another sign identified it as The Morning Glory Inn.   The tree shaded front porch and the cool green of the lawn promised relief from sun, from heat, from just about anything unpleasant.

©PG Forte 2006
And Shadows Have Their Ending

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