October 20, 2007

Having complained incessantly, I have been promised as many autumn weekends as I like. Since moving to Texas, I have come to lust after those elusive fall afternoons with slanted golden light and crunchy leaves underfoot. Finally, I was granted a leaf-peeping weekend in Virginia and parts west, and there I lost my heart to little towns with clam chowder, French pottery shops and fiddle players. They don't make towns like this anymore. In fact, it might just be impossible for places like this ever to come to exist again, since nowadays there is no time or place for spontaneous, organic growth. In Texas, it seems like nothing you see - roads, homes, businesses - is more than 50 years old. The feeling you get from being in small towns on the East Coast is deeper, slower, and more natural. Knowing that lifetime after lifetime has run its course here gives one a sense of perpetuity, of timelessness. It feels right to live in such a place.

But back to the beginning. Flying into D.C. on Saturday morning, we promptly rented a car and headed west to Virginia. Deciding it was time for food, Clint routed us to the nearest small town, Leesburg, Virginia, to search for a quick bite. Driving slowly through the narrow streets while orange leaves drifted onto our car, we discovered there was a small festival going on. It turns out that Leesburg ("the last best place") was hosting Court Day, a celebration of the town's history (since 1758) of quarterly gatherings to share news, squabble over pig ownership, and purchase goods. Instantly, I fell head-over-heels in love with life in Leesburg. It must have been the combination of hot apple cider and women in colonial costumes and kids sitting on parents' laps watching a magician, but I felt like I could live forever in this Stars Hollow-esque burg. It seemed to have none of the drawbacks that small-town life often has, like a dearth of businesses or run-down old buildings or a lack of diversity. Instead, it appears to thrive on its historical richness, imbuing every-day life with a complexity that is lacking in, say, brand-new subdivisions.

Realty ad number 1:
3-bedroom colonial in Leesburg - $419,900. "Beautiful colonial built in 1900 situated on an extensively landscaped lot with mature trees & plantings! This home has an inviting front porch, hardwood floors, family room with wood-burning fireplace."

Head still reeling, I was dragged away to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia to enjoy more of the gorgeous fall day. Situated right on a split in the river, Harpers Ferry deepened my appreciation of history. John Brown, while possibly insane, was to be admired, and the town honors him with a museum and 1850s historical recreations. We visited presentations on food preservation in the past and wondered at how life persisted as well as it did. (Do you know about early cans for food? They were boiled until the lid suctioned down, unintentionally killing bacteria but nonetheless leeching lead into the food.)

That night, we set out to find the perfect old-fashioned fare, hoping to meld "autumn" and "1800s" in a healthy, vegetarian-friendly way. Driving to nearby Sheperdstown, we succeeded. Someone has been doing a brisk business in selling "quaint, old-fashioned-yet-hip downtown," because here we found another one. We feasted at the Stone Soup Bistro, enjoying butternut squash ravioli, spinach soup, and pesto polenta with glossy, buckling wood floors and pumpkin ale. This is the sort of place that has an "opera hall" converted into a one-screen movie theater.

Realty ad number 2:
1846 3-bedroom in Sheperdstown - $329,000. "This is a classic Shepherdstown Colonial with beautiful attributes including a fireplace in living room and hearth in kitchen for a woodstove, skylight upstairs, large kitchen with lots of light and windows and a peaceful backyard."

In the morning, we pointed the Cobalt at the Mountain State Apple Harvest Festival. While I would love to say that this festival deepened my appreciation for the simple lives of West Virginians, I sipped my hot cider with a slightly condescending eye toward the mullets and Carhartts peopling the fair. However, despite my fear of becoming Someone Who Owns Paintings of Farm Scenes, I fell for a nighttime scene that conflated my love of rural life (sheep! chickens!) with old times (little church in the countryside! candles in the windows!). I dream of realty ad number 3:

1900 3-bedroom in Martinsburg - $329,000. "Here is a rare opportunity to own a charming and unique two-story log home in Berkeley County. This home has been tastefully restored, featuring large exposed logs, four original stone fireplaces, and hardwood floors throughout. This house has an open-side porch on both floors to relax and enjoy the scenery. Two storage buildings on almost an acre of land in a country setting plus much more."

We rounded out the weekend with a visit to Charles Town, a - naturally - quaint little town with tons of history. Pumpkin spice lattes in hand, we ambled through a church courtyard and saw tombstones of George Washington's relatives, the engravings rubbed away by 200 years of weather. Like Leesburg, Martinsburg, and Sheperdstown, I could live in Charles Town too. People have. People three-hundred years ago did, people two-hundred years ago did. People are currently living there, breathing in the air breathed by Revolutionary War veterans and fervent abolitionists and country pastors through the years. I consider it good company. I'll see you at the realtor's.