Hot Springs

Also during my blog break, my sister came for a weekend visit. On that Saturday, we drove over to Hot Springs, NC, and had lunch at a little restaurant on Spring Creek, which runs through the tiny town.

I love the labels on bottles of ber from the Flying Dog Brewery.  Mine was a Doggie Style pale ale.

And a much sweeter looking pup, who lay quietly under the table on the deck.

After lunch, we walked around and looked in the little shops. Really, I can't be trusted some times. But I made up for it by buying a cool necklace and earrings by a local jewelry maker.

We had time before our tub reservation, so we took a hike through the woods of the campground. This leafprint in the sandy path looked almost like a shadow to me.

I was surprised at how far back the path went along the river banks. The campground is bordered by a railroad track, and had old abandoned farm machinery off to the side.

Unable to resist the lure of the swingset, we stopped for a bit in the playground.

My favorite tub, on the bit of land where Spring Creek and the French Broad River converge. My younger son refused to accompany us on this trip because of this part of the plans. I get it - what teen wants to be in a hot tun with his mother and aunt?

And then home for dinner, which my son did join us for. One of my signature dishes, shrimp and orzo with tomatoes, ouzo, feta and fresh dill.