spring weekend at home

As taxes loomed and tummies got back to normal we decided to spend this past weekend at home. There is a pub in Old Marston called the Victoria Arms on the banks of the River Cherwell. We've been eyeing it from across the river, but have never had the chance to go. On Saturday, after wading through our extension forms and writing checks, we drove out to the "Vicky," it was called in a review. With apologies to Lauren, who has read some of this before..

I'm not sure if it is the pub culture or a history of living in villages that makes the free houses and pubs in this country so lively and inviting. Perhaps we have analogous natural phenomena in America, but I don't think the planned community or even the neighborhood is a proxy for the 'country' village and certainly most bars, while they may serve grub, are not pubs as we've come to experience them. Maybe it's the 1000 years of mostly homogeneous human development (Oxfordshire celebrates its thousanth birthday this year) and America will come around once it grows out of its awkward stage.

everyone was lying on the grass with their ciders. some had punted from oxford and moored at the lawn. kids were playing tag. a herd of cows waded into the river for a drink. a new daddy made faces at his daughter on his lap. spring has become fragrant and comfortable and as the sun set and the cherry blossoms floated to the ground it was spring at its pinnacle.







(we didn't have our camera with us on Saturday. These photos were taken on Sunday when we returned to document.)