"WITH OVER A HUNDRED ACRES TO EXPLORE FOR RELAXATION, ALL IT TOOK WAS 4 SQ. FEET OF PORCH."

Finding the above quote in my guestbook was one of the nicest gifts I've ever received.

I had a variety of reasons for opening a  B&B. I enjoy playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, while Mr. Dancing Bean, who hates to travel, likes nothing more than meeting new people. And, of course, a little extra money (triple underline little) is always nice. 

What I hadn’t expected was to offer a retreat service. No, not the kind of retreat where you meditate and think deep thoughts. Or the kind where you coax unwilling joints into bending like human a pretzel Nor the kind where workshop leaders will get you motivated--although you are free to do any of those things during your stay here. 

Last summer, I had the privelege of providing a quiet space for a two-career couple who just wanted to unplug and spend downtime together. (I thank them for the above quote.) Another guest came for a very different reason. Recently widowed, she needed private space to work as a part of her journey of grieving. 

These are just two of the guests who found the peace and quiet (other than the sounds of nature and the barking of our Awesome Dog Pack) they needed here at the low-tech Dancing Bean Ranch. They helped make our experience as B&B owners especially rewarding. 

Torvald and Inga, continued.

Inga, a weiner/terrier mix who had been dumped in the woods, found her way to the 'Bean and whimpered her desire to join the DBR's Awesome Dog Pack. From the moment she appeared, big Torvald treated her as the little sister he'd always wanted. For days, Inga's head was gooey where Tor had licked her and even tried to pick her up by the scruff of her neck and carry her like a puppy. They're best friends. The two nap together, play together and, unfortunately, get into mischief together.

Like the lovely spring evening they decided to take up gardening. I heard a thunk outside the kitchen window and went to investigate. Big Tor had managed to reach a flat of strawberry plants I'd set on an outdoor shelf, one I'd thought was beyond Tor's reach. Silly me. The thunk was the sound of big Tor pulling the flat off the shelf. When I arrived, Inga was doing her part by running back and forth through the plants as fast as her stubby little legs would carry her. Both dogs seemed very pleased by their hard work, and I learned my lesson on the extent of Torvald's reach. Or so I thought.

Like I said, silly me.