Our family has been spoiled by numerous visits to a most remarkable B&B called The Log House Inn.
The log house with popcorn drying outside.

The owners are fourth generation farmers who moved a soon to be destroyed log house (circa 1795) to their farm. Strewn with APPLE orchards, raspberry bushes, popcorn stalks, Christmas trees, sunflowers and a pond, this place is the definition of dreamy.

Visitors wake to the aroma of pancakes wafting through the house, and enter the breakfast room to find a mountain of flapjacks, Ohio maple syrup, milk, tea, raspberries (harvested that morning) and heaps of BUTTER.

Breakfast/family room at The Log House

Last weekend, as we planned a trip to the mountains, we searched for a worthy Coloradan counterpart. Mom -- technically inept as she is -- decided the first Google listing was the best. Honestly, the name should have given us a hint. "Luxury Boutique Chateau B&B"? I mean, how many specialty lodgings can you fit into one name? Somehow she was sold on the snarky pitch: "you can find somewhere cheaper, but nowhere as nice." The proprietor's Inaccurate directions made the trip longer than it should have been, but we all hoped it would be worth it. However, when we saw our destination, a faux Victorian electric blue monstrosity, we knew it hadn't been.

Icky, yucky, bad, fail so-called B&B in Winter Park, Colorado.
Unfortunately, this view is preferable to the one you get during daylight.

The owner's "tour" began with a look into the windowless family room--which looked much more like a nursing home than a cozy b&b--and culminated with a confused tale about the Russian mob. Supposedly, they had built the place, failed to pay taxes, sold it--and then fought the buyer in court because they hadn't actually handed over the deed. I don't remember how the current owners got the place. I don't think they ever told us.
Anyway, there was nothing boutique-ee or chateau-ee about it.
There were beds and a salty, sweaty breakfast.

I'm going on a B&B fast until I can get back to Ohio.