Fredericksburg, VA

At the first of the year I escaped the social jungle of Atlanta to visit some relatives in Virginia… historic Fredericksburg to be exact. My aunt and uncle reside in a historic old colonial row home built in 1727, stately in its presence and alive with a brightly colored door. Even as my uncle, an architect, puts his contemporary yet respectful mark on this town, the history of the area is apparent in every inch you walk… every sight you see… every moment you take in. Hand carved floor joists support the floor in a gallery we visited one night, and the owner of an antique store on Caroline Street still holds “court” in front of a roaring fireplace amongst his colleagues. The various staircases in one boutique wine shop were reminiscent of an Escher drawing… staircases and alleys come and go from every direction in this town. Each step its own journey, it was like walking in a historic Manhattan… coffee shops, restaurants, and shoe stores all just a brick away. I often spotted a somewhat tattered and scruffy man who walked the streets everyday in his leather shoes, wool hat and trench coat. His presence was not only here and now, but had a feeling of a restless civil war soul still walking the streets as if he was on a search for something. Even though it’s now 2008 the roaring rumble of trains and clapping of Clydesdales down the city streets was enough to take a trip through time.