Morning Brew at Green River

By Harry Arabian

The morning began quietly at the breakfast bar of the Loon Mountain Resort. I took a cautious sip of the coffee served in a plain white mug and winced slightly. Marie, seated across from me with her gentle gaze, noticed right away.

“I’m not tasting that coffee,” she said firmly. “We need to find a better brew if we’re doing that Nature Trail walk you’ve been talking about.”

With a disappointed sigh, I leaned back and muttered, “I packed short pants and summer shirts. There’s no chance for a Nature Walk—not during this brutal black fly season. For some reason, they find me particularly edible.”

Marie had already turned her attention to the Woodstock Community Newsletter she’d picked up from the front desk. Flipping a page, she suddenly brightened. “Says here the best coffee and pastries in Woodstock are served at Green River Café.”

My ears perked up. “Green River? Named after my favorite Creedence tune? We’re definitely going.”

We climbed into my SUV, the address already punched into my iPhone. Heading west on the Kancamagus Highway, we spotted the little shopping strip just a short distance down. There it was: Green River Café & Thrift Shop. I parked just a stone’s throw from the entrance.

As soon as we stepped inside, we were wrapped in the cozy scent of cinnamon and chocolate. Behind the counter, two cheerful teenage girls greeted us. One of them, with bright blue eyes and a contagious smile, said without hesitation, “You don’t mind having a tall coffee in a Green Moose cup?”

I grinned. “Perfect. I’ll take two—green and blue. A slice of carrot cake to share with my wife. 1% milk in the green, cream in the blue.”

As I waited, I noticed Marie sitting at a nearby table, phone in hand. She was chatting with our grandson, Timmy, explaining where we’d gone. “We’re just down the street at a coffee shop,” she said warmly. “Come join us.”

The blue-eyed girl arrived with our order and a bright smile. “I’m Jill. Here’s your coffee and carrot cake. Be sure to check out the thrift shop once you’ve enjoyed your morning brew.”

I took a sip. Rich, bold, smooth—everything breakfast coffee should be. Marie watched me, her face curious.

“Well?” she asked.

“We found it,” I said. “This is the brew.”

Marie took her own sip and nodded. “I’ll drink this coffee.”

Jill giggled. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

“Now that we’ve found the best café in Woodstock,” I told her, “maybe we can find some long-sleeve gear to survive the black flies.”

The coffee and carrot cake evaporated in no time—every bite and sip confirmed our discovery. Before we could even ask, Jill returned with a gray tracksuit in hand.

“These’ll keep the black flies away,” she said confidently.

Marie, still savoring the last bite of carrot cake, smiled. “I like the color. Grey suits his summer wardrobe.”

With our second round of coffee packed to go, and two raisin and two chocolate cookies in the bag—alongside my new anti-fly armor—we made our way back to the hotel.

As we pulled in, we saw Timmy on the balcony, waving and shouting, “They’re back! Time for the nature walk!”

I changed into the tracksuit, met Marie and Timmy in the lobby, and immediately noticed a small smudge on Timmy’s cheek.

“You got your first black fly bite,” I said.

He giggled and held out a cookie. “Here’s your raisin one. I ate the chocolate. I’m ready for the walk.”

Coffee in hand, family close, and a newfound defense against the flies—I was finally ready too.