Winterfeast

The last time we stayed at Big Mill, two weeks ago, there was snow on the ground.  This morning there was no snow, but the fields behind the house were white with a heavy frost, and there was a skim of ice on the decorative pond outside our room.

Like many of the area farms, Chloe's 200 acres still produces soybeans, cotton, and tobacco.  Figs, blueberries, and strawberries are served when they are in season, and breakfast included some of her homemade strawberry jam, which was the best I think I have ever tasted.  As usual, we were greeted with a personalized breakfast menu.

This was a good way to start off the final leg of our journey to New Bern, where for the second year in a row Martha had had the foresight to purchase tickets to the annual Winterfeast, a benefit for Tryon Palace, long in advance.

We had lunch at Morgan's tavern, as we did two weeks ago, and then we spent all afternoon walking around New Bern.  Martha spent some time in the shops on Middle Street, while I wandered a little farther afield and visited the beautiful Christ Episcopal Church, surrounded by tall Spanish-moss-draped trees.

A docent was there, an intelligent woman who came to New Bern 18 years ago as a fundraiser for the N.C. History Center.  She was also an officiant in the church, and she gave me a most informative tour.  The church is proud of its solid silver communion service (she said it is so heavy you have to hold the chalice with two hands), its oversized Book of Common Prayer, and a stunning King James Bible, all gifts from King George II in the 18th century.  The Bible was particularly valuable, she said, because of its typos; the heading for the Parable of the Vineyards in the 20th chapter of Luke, for example, reads "Parable of the Vinegar," and the speculation was that the printer had been imbibing a little too plentifully of the fruits of the vineyards.

Martha and I met up on Middle Street in an outdoor store called Surf Wind and Fire, and it was there that she received a phone call from her mother telling her joyfully that the report had come back from the lymph node biopsy and it was negative.  This was the best news we could have received!  Now it seemed as if we could truly resume our Sabbatical, knowing that Jane Lewis was free from cancer and also that Bill Lewis was recovering.  We called several people to let them know and were glad to find out that Lizette, too, was on the mend.  So many answered prayers!

Winterfeast was something to experience!  We sampled shrimp and grits, jambalaya, and clam chowder out in the main exhibit hall, but just as we had noticed last year, the main focus was oysters, which were being shucked and slurped down with tabasco sauce in a huge tent out back.  Fires were going down by the river, steaming the tasty little mollusks, which were then hauled up to the tent in 5-gallon pails by young running men.

The tent was filled with the clatter of oyster shells being dropped through holes in the tables post-shucking.  What a sight and sound, there in the dim light of the tent.

We made the final leg of the journey to Atlantic Beach after this Feast, the welcome sight of the wide Atlantic Ocean greeting us, giving thanks for safe travel for many across the rough seas.