Dog Friendly
Should you take your dog to the farmers market, restaurant, resort?
By Jan Walsh
I take my dogs to the farmers market. And they stay in the airconditioned car with Kev while I scout out non-GMO and organic farmers. My dogs, Wyckie and Rudy have never been to a dog friendly market, much less restaurant, or resort… until now. To have our hardwood floors sanded and refinished, we must leave home for an extended stay. Yikes!
But we’ve got this well planned… LOL! The day before we leave, our dog groomer is scheduled to groom both boys. And she cancels! The following morning, before we pack every inch of the car, we order breakfast via Door Dash. Delivery time comes and goes. Just love how their app changes the delivery time to later and later, so they can say it arrived on time! Dasher calls very frustrated saying she can’t find my “apartment.” I check the app thinking she is looking for an apartment rather than my house and see that she is at the residents’ gate. I attempt to direct her to the main gate. But she says she just moved to Birmingham so can’t find it and is cancelling our order. Later she took a picture of the bag delivered to a different location, indoors. I hope she enjoyed it!
Typically, Wyckie begins to fuss if we go for more than a 30-minute ride, which he does on the drive today. He is 12 and has never been for a longer ride, much less on a trip. The only indoor places he has ever been are vets’ offices. He is in fragile health, and I am concerned how he will make it two hours, and more so the stress of being in an unfamiliar place. Will he think we have moved?
Rudy: Hey, Wyck, pant louder so Mom will turn the air cooler and higher. And where are we going? I see a road sign for Georgia. We both came from Georgia breeders… I hope they are not taking us back! Never been for this long of a ride and why all this people stuff in the back with us?...
Wyckie is deaf so he does not hear. We still have an hour and a half to get to Barnsley Resort. We chose this resort because it is two hours from home, is “dog friendly,” and we previously enjoyed a stay here in 2011. At that time, it was Barnsley Gardens. And we were hosted to cover the property for my travel column in a local print magazine. The original Woodlands was an estate built in the 1800s by Godfrey Barnsley for his beloved wife, Julia. The property and family members were an inspiration for ST ELMO and Gone With The Wind. Although much of the Manor is also gone with the wind of a tornado in 1906, its ruins and some of the gardens remain. They were restored in the 1980s by Prince Hubertus Fugger of Germany. He owned the property on our previous visit. And then resident historian and author of Barnsley Gardens at Woodlands, Clent Coker gave us private tours of the house, museum, and Indian burial grounds.
As usual when redoing anything at home, one thing leads to another… Tomorrow at this time we will have movers, electricians, plumbers, and painters at the house, to finish up before the flooring guys. And we won’t be there, which is both good and bad. I will soon be on and off the phone with the crews at home. So, I am the most anxious one in the car.
Upon arrival to this “Downing” style village in Adairsville, Georgia, the temperature is 15 degrees above average. Unlocking the cottage door with a real key (nice touch), it is also hot inside. And there is no turning down the temp. The new high-tech thermostat does not allow it. Both the boys are panting and confused. Meanwhile Kev hurts his back carrying in the cooler… knew we should have brought the heating pad. I call the front desk requesting an AC tech and inquiring about the nearest drug store.
Barnsley has three eateries: The Rice House, which is closed for the season, Woodlands Grill, and The Beer Garden. The Beer Garden’s patio, which is only open weekends and serves a limited menu of barbeque, wings, and such is the only dog friendly place to eat at the resort. Neither of the other two restaurants have patios, which is the only restaurant location Georgia law allows dogs. So, after feeding the dogs, we order breakfast and later order lunch delivery from Woodlands Grill. By early evening, it is still hot in the cottage and AC engineer, Barry arrives for a third time today. He has done all he can with their new thermostat system and can’t get the air conditioning to stay on long enough to cool down the cottage. Having a 15-year-old dog of his own at home, he understands our situation and says we need to move to another cottage tonight or in the morning. But we are too exhausted to go anywhere tonight. So, he leaves and quickly returns with two bottles of sparkling wine, one for each of us, and two ottomans, one for each dog, to replace the trunk in front of the sofa. Life just got a little better until 3:45 a.m…
Wyckie: My internal clock does not fit this time zone, Mama! And with that streetlight shining in the bay windows, I don’t know it is daylight or dark, but I have to go!
Just when we left our oaks shedding tassels behind, there are so many here they form into tumbleweeds! After walking the dogs we attempt to pull off and brush off these **** things before daylight. But just like at home, they break into pieces leaving their fur filled with their crumbs, reminding me that we must get a new groomer when we return home. By mid-morning, it is starting to heat up. And our bellman arrives with a six-person golf cart to move us to the new cottage. It takes him three trips, plus the car for us and more stuff.
Arriving at the new cottage, we spy two large oaks in the back with even more oak tassels, falling like leaves in autumn. Although we can walk them in the front without tassels, the back is the route to the car. The groundskeepers come and blow the tassels off the path, but they are back in no time. So, we request a broom to sweep the path ourselves before each outing and put it on the back porch.
New since our previous visit are many outdoor activities. In addition to golf, tennis and swimming, new experience options include archery, axe throwing, UTV trail riding, hiking, biking, canoeing, fishing, Beretta Shooting, and horseback riding. After unpacking for the second time in less than 24 hours, I sneak out while boys are asleep for my scheduled trail ride. I have not been horseback riding in a while and am looking forward to this! Gosh, this place has grown since I was here last. On my way I discover The Inn, Georgian Hall, The Pavilion, which are new to me, and eventually find my way to the farm with the help of guest services. The staff at Barnsley Resort are the best, helpful, patient, and friendly. They must be Southern born because their hospitality is authentic.
Expecting the trail tour to be the highlight of the stay, I meet each horse, and gently pet them. One is a Belgian Draft Horse that looks like a Clydesdale. Rodney, a bay horse, shakes his head excitedly as we meet. I wish he were my ride, but he is reserved for a guest who has never been on a horse. I meet my horse last… Skippy is a strong-willed, determined, and brave Sorrel with a ravenous appetite. As I mount him alongside the pasture, the guide is trying to stop him from eating the grass. Heading down the rugged path, and up the steep hill there are more tree roots than earth. We cross a flowing stream, which conjures up the legend of the Barnsley Indian Curse. And he wants to eat everything in sight. He reaches for a branch, tears it off, and the guides tell me to kick him to make him move on. And he eats the branch while climbing the trail and I soon realize that I am not riding this horse, I am wrangling him away from food. As we top the hill onto the highway, his front right hoof goes sliding and I hold on for dear life and pray hard. As he steps onto grass across the road, he regains balance like a gymnast. We cross the golf course where horses have the right of way to golf carts, and two bridges. After the approximately a three-mile ride, I unmount and offer Skippy his end of ride treats, which he refuses. No wonder, he eats trees, not treats! Hmm, maybe my ride (or this trip) became cursed when I crossed the water? In the 1800s a Cherokee Indian shaman warned Barnsley not to build above the deep spring below because it was sacred ground. He ignored the warning, and his family endured 100 years of tragedy afterwards. I shake off the bad vibes given my history of touring King Tut’s supposedly cursed tomb more than 30 years ago. And I later learn from Coker’s book that leaders of the Cherokee Nation visited Barnsley to investigate the curse and performed a ceremonial peace dance, saying that the land had a peaceful serenity and was in perfect harmony with all the Cherokees.
On the third day after my relaxing spa visit, cabin fever sets in along with my soreness of an injured finger from Skippy’s reins. And Kev suddenly announces he wants to try the ax throwing experience! “Are you out of your mind? All we need is a rotator cuff injury.” Undeterred, he explains that he saw it on the television and starts to demonstrate the move. “Stop! Don’t even do that without an ax.” I distract him by finding a place we can go out for lunch. Most restaurants that allow or welcome dogs on the patio do not advertise it, even on their websites. Yet while researching pet friendly restaurants online I discover the locally owned Harvest Moon in nearby Rome, Georgia. It serves lunch, dinner, and Sunday brunch, and has outdoor seating where it welcomes dogs. But when we start to head out, the broom is gone! After walking them to the car, we stop to brush out the dogs tassels before putting them inside, when a woman and two her tassel free, short haired dogs walk across our lawn. She excitedly shares her discoveries that she happened upon on her walk. She is amazed that the property has the ruins of its original mansion, a garden path, and a museum. Imagine coming here for a stay and not knowing where you are and its historic significance! Her husband must be a golfer.
Harvest Moon is the first “dining out” experience ever for the boys. They settle in under the table and are totally entertained by the birds that hop by and all the sights and sounds of busy Broad Street. We can’t believe how good they are! Today’s special is lobster tacos overfilled with soft claw meat in flour tortillas. Highly recommended! In the meantime, back at the cottage, its thermostat has a sensor that turns the air off when no one is there. So once inside, the panting begins. And I start counting the days, just like Jerry did for Elaine, in Seinfeld, when they were at his parents’ house with no air conditioning, and she had a bad back from the sleeper sofa.
And as the weekend approaches, Wyckie is settled in but surprisingly Rudy is still stressed, as a wedding party takes over the resort. Two young couples, from the group, and their dogs stay in the cottages next to ours. Both couples leave their dogs alone to attend the wedding events. One barked on and off but settled down. The other, a Springer Spaniel, barked, yelped, and cried for several hours. I want to go rescue them both! Where’s that wine Barry gave us…
Rudy: Wyck, the guy next door is lonely and scared. He is crying for his mom. I can see him jumping up and down in the window saying these blinds have got to go! Uh, oh.
For Saturday night dinner, we discover a fantastic dog friendly restaurant. When in Rome take your dogs to La Scala for dinner. Locally owned restaurant, La Scala Mediterranean Bistro serves Gulf seafood and incredible steaks. They even have a caviar course! We have marvelous veal meatballs, shrimp scampi, ribeye, lobster tails, and whole fish of Gulf snapper. We are wowed by every bite. If this restaurant were in Birmingham, it would be among our best. Here it is the culinary jewel of Rome! And the boys behaved perfectly, lying under the table enjoying watching the parade of interesting people walking past. One man and his dog have matching Hawaiian shirts. But most guys are wearing t-shirts telling of their favorite brew. It is prom night. And La Scala is the place for pre prom dinner. Formally dressed guys and gals pass by as they head to enjoy a lifetime memory. Arriving back to our cottage the air has turned itself off again. There is a wedding party in the pasture behind us and in the pavilion up the road, a DJ blasting music until long after we go to bed. We lie awake listening to “Twist and Shout.”
On our second Sunday the wedding party checks out. It gets quiet. The temps have fallen to 15 degrees below normal. And the thermostat is pouring out heat, lots of heat! It won’t stop until I turn it to air on to cool it down, which begins a back and forth of it going from air to heat, heat to air. I know if the boxer, Preston Barnsley were here he would punch this thing off the wall! I’d like to but instead turn it OFF, as we walk out the door. Taking Wyckie and Rudy to the historic ruins and gardens, we take a shortcut cut through the grass. And they enter the Boxwood Parterre covered in tassels from the oaks along the way. Rather than meandering along the serpentine path among the boxwoods, we are dragged by excited pups who are racing between the hedges. In its day there were hundreds of rare plants and exotic shrubs from around the world. Today a glorious snowball bush is snowing petals to the colorful flowerbed below, blanketing the ground in white. Inside the Manor workers are prepping for next weekend’s wedding. So, we do not enter. Through the window openings I see the mantle and feel transported in time, imagining the Barnsley family relaxing by the fire, until the snap of a white tablecloth being draped on a bar table brings me back to reality. We enter the porch of the museum, the former kitchen, under a cascade of pink roses. The museum is not open. So, we sit and enjoy the sweet aromas and panoramic views, while listening to the bees buzz and birds sing. As we leave, we notice a “Private Event. Do Not Enter” sign out front that was not there when we entered.
The next wedding party checks in mid-week and we learn they have also booked our (double booked) cottage. Now I am channeling Steve Martin in Trains, Planes, and Automobiles, explaining he bought a first-class ticket too. And sadly, I begin to realize how different this stay is from our last time here. Of course, having the dogs with us kept us from enjoying much the property has to offer because we would not leave them alone in unfamiliar place, or with a sitter they do not know, if that were an option. Yet it does feel like Barnsley has lost some of its identity and a lot of its peacefulness in becoming a wedding venue.
Our original plans included snuggling up by the fireplace and toasting smores at the firepit. And this week’s temps are perfect for a fire. So, on our final night we cook up the idea of having a picnic fireside complete with smores. I order the farm raised buttermilk fried chicken delivered to the fire pit. Kev picks up smores ingredients available daily at the Inn. And we take the boys and a bottle of Barnsley bubbly to the pit and settle into Adirondack chairs. Yet smoke quickly overtakes us. We play musical chairs around the pit but so does the wind. With no table, ashes and sparks flying everywhere, we try to keep the dogs on short leashes. Again, our plans are dashed, as we dash to the cottage for our “picnic.” The chicken is delicious, as was almost all the food delivered from the restaurant. Barnsley’s delivery is efficient and friendly. And food arrives at appropriate temps. My compliments to Executive Chef, Andre Sattler whom I ironically met by happenstance while, I was hiding out here.
On our final morning as suitcases go out the door, Rudy perks up hearing the word “home.” After a breakfast delivery of the only French Toast that rivals mine, we hit the road. Will we take them on a trip again? Where we go one, we go all. But none of us want to travel for a long time. In the meantime, we will head to local dog friendly restaurants. Vino, here we come!
Copyright ©2024 Jan Walsh