“The corn top’s ripe and the meadow’s in the bloom, while the birds make music all the day; the young folks roll on the little cabin floor, all merry, all happy, and bright.” – My Old Kentucky Home
Kentucky is officially my new home away from home. Before I discovered bourbon I thought very little about Kentucky. It was a state to the south. We drove through it to get to Florida. But, ever since I discovered bourbon, Kentucky has held a shelf or two in the cabinets that line the walls of my heart. And I have been aching to spend some quality time in this little corner of the heartland.
So, after over a year of thinking, planning, and waiting, my wife and I along with two of our good friends, finally made the journey to bourbon country a few weeks ago. This is the first part of that story.
One cannot justify spending only one day in Kentucky, there is just too much bourbon to drink. As most people will tell you, “there is more bourbon barrels aging in the rickhouses lining the Kentucky landscape than there are people living within its borders.” So, we had to find a place to rest our hazy heads after a long day of tippling. My friend rented us a perfect spot along the rolling hills just outside of Bardstown: Deatsville Inn. If you get a chance to go, go!
The Deatsville Inn is nestled in among woods and fields which provide privacy and peace. It affords trails to hike, a pond to boat, and a back porch to watch the red-orange sun set below the horizon. There is nary a place which provides a better scene to sip on the true American spirit.
The house lies just north of towering rows of white rickhouses which are home to thousands of sleeping barrels of Heaven Hill whiskey.
It is a three bedroom cottage which comes equipped with air-conditioning and a kitchen to cook those delicious meals to keep you sober-ish.
The beds are very comfortable and all-around it is a nice place to rest after a long day traipsing around a distillery or two…or three.
The place is ripe with history. It was built in the early 1800s by the Overall family. If you are okay with being creeped out you can take a walk through the woods surrounding the home in order to find the family cemetery. I would have taken the challenge but I spent too much time sipping amber spirits. It was sold in 1892 to Scottish immigrants who built an addition to the house in the early 1900s. The addition is a big help because it would have been a bit tiny back in the 1800s. Miss Metta lived in the home until she passed away in 1993 at the age of 96. There was a picture on the wall of a Beamus Samuels as a young boy feeding chickens by an old “wash house.” I am curious if he was related to the Maker’s Mark Samuels. That would be interesting.
From my two chance encounters with deer on the property (one a little too close for comfort…less than 5 feet away), to the relaxed environment, to the very reasonable price ($165 per night), this was a wonderful stay and launch point for the weekend. To book your stay go here.