Springridge Gardens Guest House

«…she walked in with a fresh baked cobbler, overflowing with colorful sweet berries that she hand picked earlier that morning.»
We were in Seattle and decided to break to Bainbridge Island for a few days. The ferry ride was quick, but when we landed, it was pitch black. We’re talking blind-​as-​a-​bat pitch black. Not a great situation when you don’t know where you are or where you’re going. After driving in circles looking for a specific dirt road, I knocked on the door of a few random residents in search of directional aid and, apparently, waking them from their sleep. I’m sure that I did nothing to help the open armed acceptance of future visitors, but one notable result was positive. Even the locals had never heard of our destination. Cool! Hmmmm. But the last time that I slept in a car on the side of a road was when I didn’t understand the phrase «plush amenities» — so we pushed forward with our search. We figured, what the hell. We’re on an island. How lost can you get? The answer? REALLY lost. I’m surprised that we didn’t run into Bin Laden.
As we aimlessly drove down a graded dirt road, for a length of time that was too long to make it a quick mistake, Springdale Gardens Bed and Breakfast appeared like glowing candle in a dark cave. Literally. The «home» was a snapshot from some imagined Washington Island Homes Beautiful with strings of café lights clinging to trees and ferns, well placed spotlights guiding our way, and all warmed by yellow-​orange porch lights pointing to a perfectly painted door. And at the center was Wendy, the proprietor-​owner, waving with her cute dog sitting by her side. Both were happy for our arrival, but not nearly as happy as we were.
We stayed in the Garden Suite, a room filled with floor to ceiling french doors, a private bath, and among other things, your own baby grand piano. The quaint room beckoned me to play Bach, but I didn’t dare interrupt the loud silence. The next morning, we woke to signing birds and nothing but lush green views. Yeah, yeah. All that beauty, but what about the food?! Well, the proverbial icing on the cake was the smell of fresh baked goods creeping from the direction of the kitchen. A polite knock on or door and Wendy walked in with a fresh baked cobbler, overflowing with colorful sweet berries that she hand picked earlier that morning. That’s about the time that my wife and I started asking each other what it would take to move to Bainbridge.
Needless to say, the weekend was filled with visits to endless parks, sense-​filled hikes, walks along stunning beaches, and they all made downtown Seattle seem like a gritty metropolis. Springridge Gardens Bed & Breakfast is truly a golden egg for the beautiful Northwest.