Trippin' to Glassy/Glossy Mountain - Finale

Planting our 8 shoe clad and 4 furry feet (recall that we brought our pooch along for the trek) back onto sea level terra firma brought forth an unexpected sense of familial accomplishment -- not entirely unlike our weeknight routine of getting the girls from homework to dinner to dessert to dishes to baths to books to bed -- which only drives us to an early sack out time.

Water for all, a few rounds of 7-year old "ugghs" and almost 4-year old "eeewws" emitting from within the portable toilet, and we were on our way, leaving the glossy/glassy selenite and gypsum formations behind us.

Next stop...a sod house.

Not sad...sod...as in, what I'm going to have to pay some bookuu dollars for someday when I redo my front lawn.

And not just any sod home. Our next destination was the site of the only remaining "soddy" built by a homesteader still standing in Oklahoma.

Okay, cut the jokes and go here since you obviously aren't going to stop chuckling until you see some online proof of it's existence.

Thousands of these sod houses once dotted the landscape and we were on our way to tour this house made entirely of thick blocks of buffalo grass, the entire structure of which was significantly older than our little queen anne cottage.

Well, we would have, had it not been for the Sunday hours curse that seems to follow us whenever we travel on Sundays. Coincidence? Uncanny.

One stop we knew for certain would be open that day, was the Indian Creek Village Winery in Ringwood. S had done a story on this little hidden gem awhile back and recalled their accomodating weekend operating hours.

The girls enjoyed the horse swing made out of old car tires, Franny teased and nipped at a most well-fed basset hound who lived onsite, and we toured the serene grounds, the chapel and soon-to-be-opened restaurant/B&B. The vines in the vineyard were winter bare, but not without a waiting spirit of the fruit to be. We sampled several varieties, and settled on a bottle of Sooner Spirit, a sweet blend of red that made us both suck our tongues dry.

A young, bohemian looking couple pulled up the high stools next to us at the tasting bar and dove into some freshly poured samples of some bone stark, dry wines. We stuck to the muscat we were sampling. Smiles and friendly nods soon turned to introductions and conversations as it often does in Oklahoma, and it turns out this bright, young couple had inadvertently caused us a teeny bit of grief several hours and 20 miles ago.

We just happened to be eating crackers and sipping grape juice with the owners of the Tin Lion Coffee House.

At least we know why they closed their doors on a Sunday.

We left with our bellies delicately pleased with the miniscule amounts of fermented vino as well as invitations to drive out to the Tin Lion (any day but Sunday) to have a coffee tasting soiree in Fairview.

A future roadtrip perhaps.