winter weekend at summerhill

This gang. We went away with them for a long weekend to a beach house in a reserve overlooking a wild and desolate piece of coast.

Yes. It was as idyllic as it sounds.

Some of us got lost on the way there (and by some I mean them) and arrived just as darkness fell and the rain began, but that didn't put us off lighting a braai fire in a wheelbarrow and pushing it around the outside of the house as the winds changed direction and the storm grew.
Ribs, roast veg, immaculate wine, lots of laughter to kick off the weekend and drown out the rain, and the next day dawned sunny and chill.

This time we lit a fire in the designated pit outside, moved some comfy seating out and settled in for the day.

Literally.

Surrounded by beauty we talked a lot of shit, drank a lot of wine, ate some spectacular meals (how's this for a hangover-busting breakfast?!), had some epic croquet battles and just ... relaxed.

There was nobody there but us, and nowhere to be but there.
Bliss.