'Twas the night before Christmas and we were invited to spend it at Beaver Dam. You may remember it as the gorgeous house to which we fled last winter during the DBR (Dreaded Bathroom Renovation). Or perhaps you recall an impromptu potluck there about which I posted this fall. For Christmas Eve it had been splendidly decked out for the season, lit by candles and smelling of pine and woodsmoke from a blazing fire. Such hospitality! Dear friends, delicious food and wine, beautifully wrapped presents: it was an outpouring of love.I awoke this morning to learn of a terrible tragedy that befell a family on Christmas morning, and I feel it is even more crucial to appreciate the good times we have together. This time of year is an especially good opportunity to express to your loved ones how much they mean to you. Don't wait.
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Imagine traipsing through the woods early of an autumnal eve and coming upon this sight. Can you imagine anything more inviting? I feel so lucky to spend time at Beaver Dam. (Especially when I'm not going out of my mind waiting for my bathroom to be repaired!) And to come together there with a circle of new friends I have been collecting upstate—people who love eating well, being in nature, just chilling—is such fun. A recent invitation for cocktails turned into a few hours of cooking, foraging and eating, with everyone contributing in a very serendipitous way. We brought squash blossoms and fresh Concord grape juice, and happened to stumble upon some more black trumpet mushrooms en route (!), and there were many more delicacies waiting for us when we arrived. "Peace" vodka from a nearby distillery to mix with the grape juice, a couple of flawlessly executed dishes made with locally foraged mushrooms and a gorgeous peach galette worthy of Alice Waters herself. The best part, though, were the enormous glass doors of Beaver Dam thrown open to the glorious view: the ferns bleaching to a golden crisp, the wheat-colored marsh grasses blushing from the glow of the setting sun, the dank woods smelling of mushrooms and wet leaves. Though it was not cold, we lit a fire as a tribute to the approaching fall.

Our bathroom remodel finally got started yesterday, almost a year to the day after we first began thinking (and writing) about it. Sadly, due to various factors (the size of the bathroom, the size of our doorways) we had to give up the idea of a soaking tub. But we are replacing literally everything—all the tile and fixtures, even the walls. More about all that later. We are so fortunate that a dear friend has loaned us his gorgeous, spacious and light-filled weekend place, just a quick drive from our cottage. A relocated Frenchman, his home is filled with beautiful antiques, including hefty, hemstitched linen sheets and amazing stoneware pottery. I covet these rustic dishes, and have made a mental note to scour ebay and local thrift stores for the American version of them. Incredibly strong and durable, stoneware has long been used for cooking and was the predominant houseware of 19th century North America.