It’s officially spring here in my little corner of Virginia. Today, it’s lovely – warm and partly cloudy, a bit breezy, just wonderful. And, most importantly (to me, anyway): it’s redbud season!
That’s a picture from last year, when I posted about the beautiful little redbud tree in our yard. Right now, the blossoms are just getting started.
I love redbuds so much. I just think they’re gorgeous, and nothing makes me think of home quite like they do. And, super cool, the blossoms grow right on the bark.
I only noticed that a couple of years ago. Isn’t that funny? That you can look at something your whole life and still learn something new about it.
Anyway, I plan to enjoy the redbuds in bloom for as long as I can. Winter might be my favorite, but there’s plenty to love about spring, too.
Or maybe fourth? Frankly, I’ve lost count. But it’s cold and flurrying in Virginia today. It was cold and flurrying yesterday, too.
And it’s sunny, and flurrying at the same time, which is very strange. It’s actually sort of beautiful, in a disconcerting way, seeing snow fall against the bright green buds on the willow in our back field. I’d take a picture, but I don’t think I can really capture it.
Suffice it to say: Spring in Virginia is weird, y’all.
*Also, this is a short post, because I’m focusing today on March’s short story, which will be posted on Wednesday. It’s a good one!*
Today, it’s mild, bright and sunny. The crocuses are already blooming, and the daffodils are well on their way. The sky is bluest blue and absolutely cloudless. It’s a beautiful morning.
Hard to believe that just this weekend, things looked very different:
A couple of weeks ago, we went to an oyster roast on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. I don’t particularly like oysters, but man, I love an oyster roast. I love the smoky, briny smell in the air, and the gathering around the tables, and the sense that this is an old, beloved tradition that connects us to the people who came before, and will connect us to those who come after. And the mess. I love the mess.
Oyster shells everywhere, spilled butter and sauce, dirty knives and grimy gloves. I just love it. I think there’s something homey and comfortable about it, and about making that kind of mess with other people who appreciate the tradition, too.
I don’t know if this is a thing that happens in other places, but here in Virginia, before we get on with actual spring, we usually have a first spring, or what some people call a “fool’s spring.” And, well, I think we’re there.
It’s beautiful and sunny and in the 60s (Fahrenheit) today, and will be tomorrow as well. But I don’t think winter’s quite ready to let us go, and it’s supposed to be cold and possible snowy on Sunday before warming up again next week. So, I guess we’ll see.
Virginia, y’all. She always keeps her people guessing.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about it, because it just felt like the right thing to do.
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Winter’s chill softens. The sun and air and wind turn gentle and warm and the ground begins to thaw. All around the sounds of new life – a world rife with breeze and birdsong – but first impressions can be wrong and beauty’s a fickle thing. Here in Virginia, it remains to be seen whether this is truly spring.
What an utterly unexpected and incredibly lovely surprise!
And quite a nice way to start the new year, I think.
Until yesterday, forecasters predicted this fast-moving snowstorm would go south of us, but here it is. And I am so happy.
I hadn’t planned a busy day today, anyway – Graham’s off of work until tomorrow – but I think I shall officially declare today a Snow Day, and spend it reading, drinking tea, generally lazing about in my pajamas, and gazing out on this beautiful and fleeting winter landscape.
I wrote about it last year because I’d been reading a book of ghost stories my friend gave me , and I connected some dots and came to conclusion that the house in a story I’d read that day was very likely the same house.
Can I be certain? Well, no, but I’d like to think I’m right, because it’s a pretty cool connection. See, this house is just a few minutes away on the outskirts of our village, and Graham and I drive by it frequently. Of all the gin joints, right?
I’ve always been a fan of both ghost stories and old houses. I love walking into a space knowing that it has a history, that others have come and gone and loved it and built their lives there before me. And honestly, I think it’s just a fundamentally, very human thing to love ghost stories. Something in our primal makeup, in our DNA and our bones and the very oldest part of our brains tells us to be afraid of things that go bump in the night, and to ponder what happens to us when we die. I grew up in a town full of ghosts and legends, and I live in an area rife with them now, too. And this house is just one small piece of that larger puzzle.
Or, it was. Which is to say, it still is, but for how long is anyone’s guess. It was a ruin last year. It’s in worse shape now.
Graham stopped by yesterday and snapped this picture. Sad, isn’t it? Soon enough, the house will be gone, and the stories will be all that’s left. Then one day, they’ll be forgotten, too. But for now, the house is still here, crumbling away on the roadside, taking its secrets with it.
P.S. As I did last year, I’ll add this disclaimer: This house is on private property, and there are no trespassing signs posted, so please don’t go poking around where you’re not welcome. It’s easy enough to take a picture from the road.
We had a really nice mini-vacation. We mostly stayed home – we hung out and watched movies, spent time with friends, and generally just relaxed – but we also decided to head down to Charlottesville for a couple of days. Graham had picked out some cideries for us to try, and he booked a really cute inn for a night. And then, on Monday, we took Skyline Drive home.
What is Skyline Drive? Glad you (maybe) asked! It’s part of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and of Shenandoah National Park. It snakes through some of Virginia’s beautiful mountain terrain, and it boasts some of the very best views in the state. Like this one:
And this one:
And this one, too:
We took it slow and just enjoyed driving and chatting. We don’t often get the privilege of uninterrupted, distraction-free time together.
And then, at the highest point on the route, we ran into some fog.
Some very dense fog.
But you know, it was fine. The fog actually made the fall colors pop, and it’s kind of magical, feeling like you’re up in the clouds.
All in all, Skyline Drive was a really lovely experience, and I think we’re planning to do it again in the spring. It’ll be fun to see how the vistas change with the seasons.
Okay, so, today…got away from me. I feel like the first day back after time off (even, it seems, a short staycation) is often chaotic. And, well, I should have been prepared, but I wasn’t. So, just a quick post today. But come back on Friday for a post all about one of our staycation adventures! And enjoy this photo of some beautiful Virginia scenery as a preview. 😉
It’s been raining on and off today, and it’s nice and cool outside, and the sky is pink and purple, and the trees are starting to turn gold, and I just really think September in Virginia might be one of my very favorite things in the entire world.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 