Despite the fact that it was frigid cold, we had fun walking around Old Town Alexandria, Va., and even caught part of the annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade (a wee bit early, yes!).
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Tag Archives: Virginia
The pretend orchardist
Sometimes I like to pretend . . . I’m not me.
Maybe it’s the mindset of a writer. Or, ah . . . maybe I’m just a little quirky. Either way, I like stepping outside myself occasionally to think about life in other places, other environments. That means taking a break from being a 27-year-old suburbanite who spends her days with words — in columns; blog posts; newspaper features — to become the a girl with dirt-stained jeans at work on a family farm. Or the wizened old farmer patiently churning apple butter over an open flame. Or the energetic country kid climbing a hay stack that stretches into the sky.
Having lived in the same town since I was two, it’s fun to imagine life elsewhere. I’m always peppering my boyfriend with questions as we cruise through far-flung places: “Where do you think people work around here? How do they have fun?”
On Sunday, I thought about being an orchardist. The grove was quiet as we climbed the hilltop, away from the din of the festival below — a sequestered spot in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Far from home. Out in the country, away the hubbub and the chaos . . . well, it just feels easier to breathe.
In keeping with my recent farming obsession, Graves Mountain Farm in Syria, Va., was a hay-scented playground. I thought about Amanda Coplin’s novel as we walked the rows of near-barren trees, feeling a cool breeze on my sunburned face. Though I know nothing about crops, I can appreciate the serenity of nature — and feel at peace in the mountains.
When we crested the hill in the orchard, I was so fixated on looking for apples that I didn’t bother turning around. I didn’t look back to see how far we’d come. But that was the best view: of the working farm and silos below; the crowded festival in the distance; the lodge on the hill. Mountains rising up beyond, lightly dotted with the colors of autumn. Lone apples in the branches just out of reach.
Filed under out and about, photography
Wordless Wednesday: Country scenes in Culpeper, Virginia
Scenes from our drive out to Culpeper, Va., to celebrate my cousin Ben’s birthday in August.
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Filed under wordless weds.
Wordless Wednesday: Moonshine at Belmont Farm Distillery
Touring Belmont Farm’s Distillery in Culpeper, Va., where moonshine is readily available (and legal!). We got a whiff of a current batch and had to hold onto our hats. That booze is no joke.
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Filed under wordless weds.
A summer of peaches
I normally don’t pay much attention to fruit. And yes, I know I’m trying to “eat healthier” and “make better choices” and “exercise,” but somehow consuming more fresh produce hasn’t really gotten onto my radar.
But I’m working on that. Spencer and I have been hitting up farmers markets and fruit stands from here to California. Last weekend’s early-morning trip to Berryville, Va., had us stopping at a cute spot called Nalls Farm Market for goodies on our way back to Maryland.
Funny thing about Nalls: we’d gone looking for it 10 minutes earlier. According to trusty Google Maps, it should have been just up ahead on our left after a U-turn — but no such place existed. Dismayed but eying the ominous thunderstorm headed our way, we kept driving toward home and said we’d look for the market another day. And that’s when I spied the ant.
I really don’t like bugs.
“Do you really want me to pull over so you can get an ant off your door?” Spencer crowed, giving me his patented raised-eyebrows look of bemusement and irritation.
Yes, I said. I really do. Or I’ll stare at it the entire drive home — two-plus hours. “Just pull off up here,” I said, gesturing to a little barn and its driveway up ahead.
We were just a few feet away when I recognized the sign I’d seen online: Nalls Farm Market. If it hadn’t been for the wayward ant, we would have sailed straight past the stand . . . and I wouldn’t have gotten these delicious peaches.
In hindsight, we should have just sprung for the bushel. Buying eight of them individually was almost as much as a whole small basket, but I couldn’t imagine we would eat more than a dozen peaches before they rotted.
I was wrong. They’re already gone.
It’s been a summer of fruit. There’s something so refreshing and intoxicating about farmers markets, and I like buying local. What good does my $5 really do? I don’t know. But it feels good to pass it over, even if it’s just a small purchase.
I need more peaches. And peach recipes. If you have any, don’t hold out on me.
Filed under food & drink, out and about
Wordless Wednesday: Spring at Arlington National Cemetery
Walking around Arlington National Cemetery on a Capital Photo History Tour.
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Filed under wordless weds.
