We headed up to Bethel, Maine. Bethel is a winter town in the western mountains. In the summer it is very sleepy and charming. I'm standing on the deck of the nearby Sunday River golf course where we grabbed lunch.

It is not easy growing grass in such a short season.

The wonderful Bethel Inn basement tavern, before it is set upon by the summer geriatrics set.

The Bethel in is itself a relic, filled with relics. Here I imagine Amy is conducting some Phillip Marlowe-esque ruse via the hotel phone.

Suds: unassuming without, awesome within.