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Class, fabulous golf, southern charm and the comforts of someone else's mansion and wait staff make this "inn" a rather splendid place to get away.

An elderly gentleman leaned out the window of the stately entrance station and handed us a compact disc. "You might want to listen to this," he suggested. "It's about a five minute drive to the Inn."

We persuaded our two teenagers to pry the iPod ear buds from their brains, and my wife popped in the CD. As we crossed a charming wooden bridge straddling a classic low country view -- tidal creek, marsh grass, pluff mud -- a profound Southern drawl purred from our car speakers as the narrator introduced the Inn at Palmetto Bluff. And dang if our kids didn't start guffawing and mocking the accent. "Turn it off, turn it off!" they begged.

Are my kids really that jaded that they can't listen to five minutes of history in a pleasant regional accent? I mean, for crying out load, we live in the South. Was this a harbinger of things to come? Was our weekend doomed?

Thankfully, no, I am delighted to report. Apparently the sudden shift from Fall Out Boy's musical angst to mellow, low country charm was more than their teenage sensibilities could handle. By the time we were graciously received at the Inn, our daughter Maddy (15) and son Jamie (14) had loosened up and adjusted to the new tempo.

A Country Resort

The Inn at Palmetto Bluff is perched on the edge of an entirely charming village square that overlooks a widening in the May River. It is nestled under a canopy of gnarly live oaks and the ever-present Spanish moss. If there is such a style as Modern Antebellum, this is where it was invented. While many resorts have more grandiose settings, Palmetto Bluff invites you into its graceful ease and unending charms with the whisper of quieter times. Scarlet O'Hara's Tara meets Mayberry RFD.

But my kids never saw "Gone With The Wind" or "The Andy Griffith Show." The closest city -- Savannah, Georgia -- is 40 minutes away. What on earth will they do here?

Quite a bit, as it turned out. Strewn across the property's 20,000 acres -- that's 6,000 more than Manhattan island -- are scores of activities to keep even the most jaded teen and preteen alive, active and happy. And the jaded one's parents.

But first, on to our own 2,000 square-feet ... We were swiftly escorted to our room for the weekend: a proper home with three bedrooms and baths, an up-to-date kitchen with granite counters and Viking appliances and enough screen porches to sleep an invading army. The decor was tasteful and inviting, with cozy nooks, banquette seating and tall ceilings, far from the cookie cutter and sterile environment of countless timeshares and resorts. We broke out the board games and (gasp) home movies (we knew we had the teens to ourselves). Late nights turned into languid mornings of coffee, bacon and sleeping in, the result of late night cable TV in each bedroom.

While our cozy home beckoned, "Sit down, relax, stay," the resort screamed, "C'mon, get out, play!" So we played, in a fashion: a raucous game of HORSE on the full outdoor basketball court, complete with hoops that adjust from little tike to regulation height; biking across preposterously picturesque bridges and through acres of pine and oaks, even a precarious nighttime romp over dimly lit paths and across bridges lit by gas lanterns; numerous pick up games of bocce ball, making up rules as we went; even swaying on swing sets under the shady live oak canopy.