A Williamsburg Style Room in New England

DecoratingTravelIt's a New England Thing

Jul 6

Dearest Kindred Spirit,

It was still dark when I slipped out of the house, the rain tapping softly on the car’s roof reminded me it would most likely be slow going. The road ahead was long and quiet, three hours to be exact, but I had a date with beautiful blooms at the Newport Flower Show, and not even the drizzle could dampen my spirits.

By the time I arrived in Newport, the rain had lifted like a curtain, revealing a town dressed in mist and early summer charm. The Flower Show was more than lovely, it was creative and inspiring. I wandered past whimsical displays made from flowers, shells, and garden finds, and found myself tucked into memories of childhood, when my mother would fashion little dolls from clothespins and corn husks. These, though, were elevated into true artistry.

Of course, I did a bit of shopping as I was drawn into a vendor’s tent like a moth to the flame. Among my treasures? A twisted-handled knife and hotel ware perfect for Sugarwood’s dining room. Each piece, a quiet nod to the elegance of bygone inns and grand New England tables.

I had booked myself a stay at The Chanler at Cliff Walk, tucked into the Williamsburg Room with its tall headboard, lovely carpet, and wall color I’m now considering for our guest bedroom. As I unpacked, I realized something sweet, this little journey, though solo, was full of delightful company: thoughtful gestures, kind service, and the presence of you, my Kindred Spirits, who allow me to take these moments and share them back with love.

Later that evening, wrapped in a robe and warmth, I opened a box of chocolates left at my door ,along with a bedtime story, and poured a glass of champagne. My book of choice for the evening? Stillmeadow Daybook by Gladys Taber, naturally. I settled in, candle lit, heart full.

In the morning, I resisted the pull to rush. I lingered over espresso, admired the egg-and-dart molding on the walls, and even made mental notes for our own home. I may have straightened my hair for nothing (thank you, rain and fog), but it was worth it.

Before heading home, I made one last stop at the White Horse Tavern, said to be America’s oldest. Though not open yet, I peeked from the sidewalk, recalling a ghostly visit from years past that still gives me goosebumps.

By afternoon, I turned toward home, taking the long way back, off the highways, through backroads and villages that deserve a proper Sunday drive. I found myself cursing the rain that at times hindered my vision, but also gave thanks to the rain that gave way to flowers, to this place full of old beauty and new memories, and to you for coming along with me on my YouTube channel. (video below)

Until next time,
With love from New England,
Linda