A weekend in the country

Sure, there was the dog drool, the obligatory tick walk, the oversweet scent of Skin-So-Soft (and the certain knowledge that it has never, ever deterred a single mosquito). But then there was the earthy smell of dirt after a rain, the psychedelic-green carpet of grass, the cadres of tree trunks marching as deep into the woods as the eye could see, the absolute silence and pitch darkness of the nights. And there was the pretty-darn-impressive county fireworks display—enjoyed while eating "fried dough" (these country folk call a spade a spade!)—and the sky-haute cuisine served a maison by our hosts D and J.