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Brent greeted us at the door once we made it to his house (his parents and siblings were out at his little brother's baseball game till later), and gave us a tour of the extensive property. The house was just recently remodeled, so there was lots to show, and we're in the little guest house to the side of it, attached to what looks like a hangar but I guess is a barn for the farm equipment (Brent's dad is a cotton farmer, and has a few fields of corn too). Brent took us all around on a golf cart he drives with blithe assurance. They have a pier into the river at the back of the property behind some beautiful woods, and the fireflies were just starting up when we went back there. Their Maltese, Cory, had jumped up into my lap for the ride, and Brent had given me his lovely spiral-headed walking stick to me to hold, so I was the Queen on that drive with lapdog and sceptre. It's so nice to see him in his own environment, confident and self-possessed in a way he never is in Boston.
This morning his mom made us breakfast in the shop kitchen and we looked around a little more at the farm and hung out before the family went to have lunch at one of Bath's two restaurants. He wanted to take a drive to the pier and back, so I went with him again rather idyllically through the woods and back before he started the real car and took us to the restaurant and hung with the rest of the family. He had to go to rehearsal, but the rest of us talked and were generally Southern together, which was a nice change from uptight New Englandness.
His mom took us and a glass of wine and the dog (and Brent's little brother Ben, whose idea it was while we were eating pizza for dinner and talking) to the pier to watch the sun set, and I can imagine Brent growing up in this kind of coastal, pastoral idyll. It reminds me a little of Grandjo's old house, the comfortable functionality of everything (though they have a lot more resources at their disposal and a lot more land).
Brent came home from the rehearsal and we traded some intense neck and shoulder work before exhaustedly retreating to bed and promising to get up in the morning to hang out before his ludicrously early (and long) rehearsal tomorrow. So we decided to stay another night. I think it's a good idea, because I couldn't drive tonight even earlier in the evening.
This morning his mom made us breakfast in the shop kitchen and we looked around a little more at the farm and hung out before the family went to have lunch at one of Bath's two restaurants. He wanted to take a drive to the pier and back, so I went with him again rather idyllically through the woods and back before he started the real car and took us to the restaurant and hung with the rest of the family. He had to go to rehearsal, but the rest of us talked and were generally Southern together, which was a nice change from uptight New Englandness.
His mom took us and a glass of wine and the dog (and Brent's little brother Ben, whose idea it was while we were eating pizza for dinner and talking) to the pier to watch the sun set, and I can imagine Brent growing up in this kind of coastal, pastoral idyll. It reminds me a little of Grandjo's old house, the comfortable functionality of everything (though they have a lot more resources at their disposal and a lot more land).
Brent came home from the rehearsal and we traded some intense neck and shoulder work before exhaustedly retreating to bed and promising to get up in the morning to hang out before his ludicrously early (and long) rehearsal tomorrow. So we decided to stay another night. I think it's a good idea, because I couldn't drive tonight even earlier in the evening.
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