Dwight, a retired park ranger, led us up picturesque paths and paused often for tenderfoot hikers. And I never knew fishing could be fun. But Jim, the instructor, taught my sweetheart how to execute the perfect cast (I wasn't too bad, either). Soon we found ourselves casting into a quiet pond.

After such strenuous (for me) activities, I talked my fishing-obsessed companion into a trip to the Farmhouse Spa. Even he came away raving about his newly softened skin.

After another perfect night's sleep, we awoke to breakfast delivered to our cottage in a picnic basket. We both wanted to stay.

We took one last drive around some of the 1,100-acre property in our golf cart. The sheep grazed serenely on a hillside under the careful eye of the watch llama. Another happy couple clip-clopped along the path in a horse-drawn carriage ride.

As we reluctantly drove away, we took one last look at the living picture postcard that is Blackberry Farm. "Wow," we both said.

Riverwalk Inn
We both loved Spanish in high school, and my sweetheart had never been to San Antonio. So off we went to spend a weekend by The Riverwalk. The Riverwalk Inn lies tucked away on the less traveled part of the San Antonio River. Built of conjoined vintage log cabins, it offers a rustic, private, and singularly Texas getaway. Our room boasted rocking chairs, a quilt-covered bed, and a granite shower large enough to have held all of Santa Anna's men. The long porch, surrounded by well-tended gardens, offered a quiet respite in the heart of a salsa-infused city.

Breakfast was served buffet style on a long, narrow table in the common room. This is also where we discovered homemade cake and cookies waiting for us in the late afternoons.

We used The Riverwalk as our path and followed it all the way to The Alamo (by cutting through the Hyatt lobby). Then we took a trolley to the Market Square in search of souvenirs and more food (not necessarily in that order). We found lunch at La Margarita, where the food was simply wonderful.