The Bluesmobile on the battlefield at Brandy Station. The ugly house in the background was deliberately sited on the spot of J.E.B. Stuart’s Headquarters during the largest cavalry engagement in North American history. Photo Socotra.
So peaceful down on the farm. Heckle is so glad to see me. The grass is neatly trimmed- thanks, Frank!- and town was bustling with pre-pre-seasonal shoppers on the main drag.
This is a great circle trip- down I-95 from the Capital, off on the strip-mall chaos in Fredericksburg and west on the Germana Highway, cutting across the Chancellorsville and Wilderness battlefields until the bright orange trees on the bulk of Mount Pony appeared ahead.
Going back north I will take Rt 29 up through Brandy Station and McClellan’s Last Parade and the Buckland Chase as the country fades into the sprawl around the fields of First and Second Manassas.
This is my favorite time of the year. Sure, it means that the chilly winds are going to sweep this all away, but the corn stubble and the ancient cannons evoke a spirit of closure. These places were, in their moment of history, as dangerous and deadly as any in all the world.
The foundations of Chancellor House are preserved at the intersection on Rt. 3, and the cannon behind the bricks and stone are arrayed as they were on that day, facing other guns across the black road and the dun-colored field.
The WalMart people have decided not to construct their latest mega-box on this road, not far from this place. That is a good thing, I think. There are plenty of places where nothing much of consequence has occurred and never will. This stretch of highway has seen far more than its share, and the vista of the old farms on low hills should remain for others to see in brightly hued seasons like this.
Now they are peaceful, and the sound is of the fresh breeze rising through the remaining brightly colored leaves. The soft sibilant sigh is like waves caressing on a distant shore
I wonder what it would be like to be on horseback in some of these fields, galloping. Or just ambling slowly without a care in the world. That is an unlikely scenario. There is so much that seems important during the week, but here are small houses of people who work in the country, connected to this land.
It is sixty-five miles from the flanks of Mt. Pony to the lozenge of the Beltway that girdles the capital and strangles civility. It is nice down here, with the lonesome sound of the trains signaling at the grade crossing in the rich deep velvet darkness.
With the light rising, stealing across the pasture, the day beckons.
Nice weekend for a drive. Nice weekend for colors. Nice weekend to be alive.
US Park Service marker at the Chancellorsville battlefield in fall foliage.
Vic