A little summer happiness on the mountain: wood-fired pizza and a handpicked bouquet

It’s been a long time since I gave my city some love here.

Those who’ve followed alpha // whiskey // foxtrot since its inception know that I first began this blog in an attempt to love my mountain town better.  And I do love it here — most of the time — but every once in awhile, a sense of dissatisfaction overtakes me that makes it hard to be grateful for my surroundings.


Yesterday, T and I decided to do a little exploring.  We wanted to get off our usual beaten path to the same six restaurants, and we also wanted to just be us for a bit…


(You have to admit, we’re kinda cute together, even if I *am* the human version of a Welsh Corgi — clearly too short for this handsome guy).

We drove out of the city and up into the hills — steered the Volvo through tight switchbacks until the mountains opened up to sky.  Eventually, the road leveled off in a high plateau full of cornfields shivering in a cool breeze, sun winking off the tin roofs of sleepy white farmhouses.

We turned a corner and found our destination:  Bent Mountain Bistro, a little oasis of good food in the exact middle of nowhere.  And I have to say:  if you’re one of my small band of local readers, I really, really hope you’ll make the trek up the mountain to try this place.

It’s an unassuming little roadside cafe with serious farm-to-table flare … without the usual farm-to-table elitism.  You don’t have to show up wearing Birkenstocks here.  You can teeter in wearing towering heels, like me, or you can scuff through the door wearing flip-flops made in China.  Nobody cares.

Meanwhile, you can look out the big plate-glass windows and see this:


You can order a pizza from the wood-fired-oven menu, or make like me and slurp down a big bowl of homemade chanterelle soup.  Beware, though … You might end up looking something like this:


(Actually, T wears a face like this for almost any pizza, but this particular pizza — mounded high with bacon and homemade barbecue — was just a little more joy-inducing than usual.)

When we were finished with dinner, we wandered outside into the warm summer light and ambled up an unlined road through the fields:


I picked an armful of Queen Ann’s Lace and clover from the ditch at the roadside — they might be weeds, but they’re some of the prettiest weeds I know — and when I had an embarrassingly large bouquet, we stuffed it and ourselves into the Volvo and drove back down into the valley.

This morning, I woke up and I saw this:


And that sense of gratitude I’d been looking for was right where I’d left it all along. ❤


  1. As always, a great read! The bistro looks amazing, and my husband makes the same face each time pizza is in the vicinity. Lol!

    You DO NOT look like a corgi. Lol!

    The bouquet is simple and beautiful…the best kind. Queen Anne’s Lace, a simple and pretty roadside flower that grows wear I live, is one of my favourites. Look at how happy it looks, reaching high out of its vase! xo

    Glad to be back home after my vacay, reading one of my fave blogs (yours). ;o)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Aw, thank you lady … On ALL counts! Your blog is one of my faves, too. 🙂

      And isn’t that bouquet just the best? I tend to think more and more that sometimes the simplest and most natural, spontaneous things are best … Whether we’re talking about flowers, food, friendships or fashion. 🙂 I have a feeling you know just what I mean.

      Welcome home! Binge-reading good bloga is just so relaxing. Enjoy!! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I totally know what you mean. I feel this realization came with age. As much as I love “acquiring things”, the simple things in life make me really happy – like snuggles with the hubs, headbumps from my cat, ice cream, laughs with friends…

        Thanks for the warm welcome! There’s no place like home!! xoxox

        Liked by 1 person

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