Not so long ago I fell in love with a building. It had lovely windows down two sides that filled the place with warm, golden light and the honey-toned wood floors gently bounced the sunlight into every nook and cranny. There was a gorgeous, if slightly-crumbling, brick wall that reminded me that this fresh, airy space was actually 175 years old. In the distance I could see a low step leading up to another light-filled room with even more exposed brick, lovely windows and French doors. The wood floors in this room were original, with indentations and irregularities made by the heavy printing equipment that was mounted there in 1839 or so, when the space belonged to the Weston Chronicle. I was absolutely smitten.
My store had been happily ensconced, for ten years, in a built-to-look-old building right on the Missouri River. We had tons of space and sunsets to die for. I was happy there. And, I had no plans to leave. But, love is love.
So, a year and a half ago we moved to the glowing space, in the slightly more distant rolling hills of Weston. Little did I know that I was about to fall in love with the town that gave birth to the building that brought me there. Can you imagine a melding of Brigadoon and Mayberry? Magic and down-home goodness all mixed up with kind, talented, interesting (sometimes quirky) people who offer the fruits of their hands and hearts in their shops and restaurants, vineyards and B&B’s. People who are truly grateful for the visitors that come to town, and who work very hard to be sure you enjoy your visit. Once a year they even open their homes to celebrate the holidays with perfect strangers.
There is so much more I would like to tell you about these people and this amazing place – and, I will, in time. But, for today, I write this little “Ode to Weston” in answer to the many who ask how we’re liking our move.
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