Fantasy Holiday in New Hampshire

By: Vern Hobbs

Article Category: Get Out Of Town

The Christmas trees had been on display at Merritt Square Mall since Halloween. My favorite radio station had been playing holiday music since Election Day. Nat King Cole was roasting chestnuts again, and I knew that before the hour was out Bing Crosby would be dreaming of another white Christmas. Despite being the happily sunburnt, contentedly salt-encrusted Florida beach bum that I am, I finally succumbed to this relentless onslaught of polished holiday imagery. I was longing for the perfect Christmas — the Christmas depicted on all those Christmas cards and sung about in all those familiar songs; the Christmas with glistening lanes, snow-laden evergreen boughs, carolers in woolen coats and scarves, sleigh rides, snowmen, ice skaters, hot cocoa, and mulled wine — the works!

What was I to do? I live in the Sunshine State, and have for so long that I tend to think of Interstate 10 as being akin to the Arctic Circle. But wait! I also live in the land of fantasy football leagues and fantasy baseball camps just 50 miles east of the world’s largest collection fantasy-themed amusement parks. Surely, there must be a “Fantasy Christmas” out there somewhere, packaged and wrapped, just waiting for me to sign up.

Ask, and the Internet will provide. A Google search for “fantasy holiday destinations” revealed a number of offerings, but the one that caught my eye was Nestlenook Farm. Maybe it was the website photo of the one-horse open sleigh, or the promise of evenings gathered around the bonfire sipping hot cider while skaters circled the frozen pond. Whatever the reason, I knew I had found the path to my perfect fantasy Christmas.

Located in the White Mountains of New Hampshire near the North Conway ski areas, Nestlenook Farm was not really all that far away. Affordable non-stop flights from Orlando to Manchester, New Hampshire were available, making my personal participation in the quintessential living Christmas card not only obtainable, but cheap.

We found Nestlenook Farm nestled in a quiet little valley just off Route 16A near the town of Jackson. Following the signs, we drove over the river — the Ellis River — and through the woods to arrive in front of the beautiful Nestlenook Inn. No, it wasn’t Grandmother’s house, but in the dream world of the perfect, fantasy Christmas, this is exactly what Granny’s house would look like. The Inn, a gracious, two-story Victorian surrounded by a white picket fence, was trimmed with ornate gingerbread cornices and sprouted three dormers from its steeply gabled roof, all of it tastefully decorated for the Yuletide season, and of course, dusted with a flawless layer of fresh New England snow.

Stepping out into the bracing air of the winter afternoon, I imagined that I could actually “hear those sleigh bells ringing…” No, wait a minute. Could it be? Was I really hearing sleigh bells? Yes, I was! I turned and scanned my surroundings. Across the sloping meadow a team of Clydesdales, in all their big-hoofed, shaggy glory, rounded the bend leading a wooden sleigh filled with red-nosed laughing people. The powerful shoulders of the two mammoth horses were fitted with sturdy leather collars adorned with a dozen or more tiny silver bells. The Christmas card was indeed coming alive, right before my eyes.

Inside, the Nestlenook Inn was even more inviting, and exuded a quaint homeyness blended with a casual degree of elegance. Tastefully simple holiday decorations were abundant but unimposing. A gentle, almost reverent silence prevailed, inclining us to whisper as though we had just entered a library. The aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, and baking bread mingled pleasantly in the air, suggesting that visions of sugarplums would be dancing in our heads later that evening.

The Inn, one of the oldest homes in the Ellis Valley, was originally constructed in the 1790s and has been masterfully restored to preserve its historical character while incorporating modern amenities. Seven rooms are offered, each featuring either a fireplace or a parlor stove.  All are individually decorated and named for the artist whose paintings adorn the walls. The Inn itself is restricted to adult guests only. Family accommodations are available in the nearby Victorian Village, a collection of unique cottages all built in an architectural style that complements the historic Inn.

Promising ourselves that we would return in time for the complimentary evening wine-and-cheese soirée, we bundled up and headed out to explore the grounds. I felt as though I had stepped into one of those 19th-century Currier and Ives prints that illustrated my 7th-grade history book. Just down the hill from the Inn, we came upon a tidy red barn with a huge wreath of holly and pine suspended above its double Dutch-styled doors. A bit further along we spotted an arched, stone bridge, draped with green and red garlands befitting the season.  To either side of the little bridge, ice skaters glided past in singles and pairs — some dressed in full length woolens, most streaming colorful scarves in their wakes — and I’m sure I spied at least one gentleman sporting a top hat.

Despite multiple layers of clothing, our thin Florida blood limited the amount of time we could comfortably spend outdoors on this cold winter afternoon. We sought refuge in the enclosed gazebo adjacent to the skating pond and were welcomed with a roaring fire and steaming mugs of hot chocolate. From a marble monument located near the gazebo we learned that Nestlenook Farm grew from the inspiration of Nancy Cyr, who converted this humble mountain farm into a storybook winter wonderland for all to enjoy. Nancy unfortunately passed away soon after realizing her dream, but inspiring words on the monument assured us that her spirit lives on in every snowflake that falls on Nestlenook Farm.

I knew now that I had indeed found the perfect Fantasy Christmas — one that fairly leapt from the lyrics of all those songs. As if that weren’t enough, I soon learned that my fantasy needn’t be confined to Nestlenook Farm. Just over the hill, the village of Jackson is itself the setting for the most traditional of Christmas card images. Candles glow in the windows of the homes, sending a soft light into the hush of a snowy evening; carolers give flesh-and-blood life to all those holiday favorites; the local tavern adds turkey and dressing to their bill of fare, and church bells chime on Christmas morning, inviting all to come and hear the story of the first Christmas.

My fantasy was fulfilled. I had at long last experienced an idyllic Christmas and would never again dismiss praises of sleigh bells and roasting chestnuts as mere commercial banter. But after a few days of snowmen and woolen mittens, I began to crave the feeling of a different kind of powder beneath my feet — that special kind found only on the beaches between Cape Canaveral and Sebastian Inlet.

Merry Christmas, everyone!