The Golden Hour Picnic
It’s early summer, and we’ve finished our burgers, crumpling the greasy wrappers and depositing them into covered bins. We return to our blanket, sipping the last of our sodas. It’s just about time to start. It’s been rainy the last few days, and the clouds broke this afternoon, but haven’t cleared out yet. This should be a good one.
Claire, our aggressively friendly Cavachon, strains against her leash toward the nearest stranger, then rolls happily in the grass, enjoying begged-for belly rubs. I snap a few pictures as my daughter weaves long stems of wildflowers into a crown, into the buttons of her jacket, into the laces of her shoes.
A View from the Giant’s Arms
In 2024, Waynesboro City converted its old landfill into a park. Sunset Park. It sits above and on the edge of town, opening a wide, circular view of the valley. Sitting here among the tops of the foothills, I feel as if I have slipped into Jack’s adventure with the Beanstalk, only I am the Giant, encircling city streets, warehouses, pastures, and streams in my arms.
The Quiet Landscape
It’s quieter than you’d expect, most of the time. There’s no playground. Children lie on their backs making shapes of the clouds, picking flowers, and balancing pebbles on the low retaining wall that spans the west side of the hill. Walls like that, low stacked stone, flowing like rivers with the swell and fall of the land, are one of my favorite features of Shenandoah.
A gravelly walk ropes the perimeter, enjoyed only at a pondering pace. A bike trail coils in serpentine fashion on the shadowy east side. Local wildflowers spring from the steeper hillside on the west, fending off erosion, inviting pollinators, and smaller wildlife.
The Sky Explodes
The last of the cars pulls up, cutting their headlights. Lovers, families, dogs, and their owners cuddle in blankets and truck beds to watch the daylight explode into fire and fade from the sky.
The hum of conversation settles into silence as glowing oranges and pinks seep through the cottons of the clouds, broken suddenly here and there by playful blasts from the ducking sun. Purples bruise the edges of sight. The Artist never disappoints.
Majesty in the Dark
Points of light from streets and businesses shine softly into the night, just enough to encourage a little romance without disturbing the restful nesting accompanying the dimming of the sun.
Stars peak out, and we stand to fold our blanket and brush the wilted flowers from our laps. Whispers turn to chatter, car doors clap, and we go home awed again by the majesty of the highlands.
