Apologetic Prose

Sometimes the best reason to go away is to see what you find when you get back.

A writing assignment took me to the Northern Neck to visit a cattle farm, a far cry from my usual urban world.

It was my first time seeing a tiny kitten terrorize chickens five times its size.

I had a ball with the woman I was interviewing once we discovered we're both oldest daughters with no brothers.

We commiserated over how strict our parents were with us and how lenient with our youngest sisters.

Brats.

Just kidding, Nancy and Amanda. Well, sort of.

She leads me up upstairs and through a sliding screen door, a pocket door for a porch, something I've never seen before. I love it.

We sit on what she calls her "sweet potato porch," a place with a view of the creek, her horse and a hummingbird feeder with a non-stop series of tiny birds eating at it.

She tells me it's where she and her husband start their morning, having coffee and planning what they'll accomplish that day.

I don't even drink coffee but I am charmed by the idea of starting my day on a porch like this with someone I love.

After a walkabout on the farm and a highly amusing discussion with her Dad (who kept making analogies between alcohol and cattle feed), I have enough material for three articles and say my goodbyes.

It's mid-afternoon on a beautiful and surprisingly un-humid August day and I have nowhere to be and no one looking for me.

Sounds like a good excuse to visit a winery.

I've been to the Hague before, but it's a pleasant enough place and not overly ostentatious like the wineries who do events.

Going through the tasting, I chat up the young woman pouring, hearing how she has just last night decided to leave the Neck and move to Warrenton to live with her boyfriend

His appeal?

He's a good talker...and listener.

Those are the ones you don't want to let get away, my dear.

Drinking the 2010 Chardonel on the porch with a view of corn fields to the right and grape fields to the left seems like the thing to do after the tasting.

Then the wine is finished and it's time for the next adventure.

As long as I'm out this far on a Monday, I would be remiss not to stop at Lowery's in Tappahannock to eat.

It's not that Lowery's menu is particularly enticing, it's that it's Monday.

And that means all you can eat crabs, an irresistible siren call to this gluttonous crab eater raised in Maryland.

As a bonus, there's more of the Chardonel, brought from the Hague in case there was a wine necessity.

With Taylor Swift blaring from the speakers, this definitely qualifies.

The meal starts with oysters from Bevans, a local purveyor I know well since I'd also interviewed Mr. Bevans for a piece a year or two ago.

They are followed by crabs and more crabs, not large but meaty, and I eat long past the point where I've broken a couple of nails, always part of the collateral damage of crustacean-eating for me.

A small price to pay, but then I don't care much what my nails look like anyway.

Nearby, a little girl leaves her parents eating crabs at their table to play a giant version of Jenga made of sawed-off pieces of lumber, eventually sending the stack clattering to the concrete floor of the patio.

It's getting dark by the time I've had my fill of crabs and am ready to head home.

The hour-long drive home is a good excuse to think about everything that's been going on in my life lately, both negative and positive, and hope that things are finally returning to an even keel.

Walking into my apartment, I realize I've been gone for over twelve hours, a break I really needed after being home far too much over the past week.

My good friend Holmes has left a phone message saying, "Hey, glad to see you're back! I was worried about you 'cause you had dropped off the world, but I'm glad to see the prose is flowing again."

How lovely to come home and have a reason to smile even if no one's around to see it.

Every bit as satisfying, I open up my e-mail and find a message from my past.

It's a guy I shared a few dates with several years ago, whom I'd lost touch with because it wasn't the right time for either of us then.

I'm in a way different place now and he must be, too.

"Hi, Karen. Want to have dinner some time soon? I miss those nice legs."

The smile widens.

Yes, I would definitely like to have dinner with you soon.

And you can be sure I'll bring the legs.

A fine road trip ends on an even finer note.

As my friend Moira likes to say, I'm a lucky girl.