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The year is 1852. The stagecoach races along the Old Indian Trail as night creeps over the mountain forest. Suddenly, you see the glow of gaslights ahead. You begin to smell woodfires and the tantalizing aroma of a real barbeque. You anticipate the feel of snowy sheets on a billowy four poster bed. Your body aches for a lavender-scented, steamy bath. You crave a country-size serving of fine food and spirits and you look forward to an evening of hospitality. Sharing old stories with new friends by a crackling fire. Tall tales, good times and laughter as the fireflies dance in and out of the conversation. This is the magic of Woodfield Inn yesterday... and today.
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