BackCountryTidewater

Loaded up in a cutback bottom, where the creeks cut deep and turn ravines into black diamond slaloms. The spring green is surreal, the horse pasture is loaded with knee high winter wheat and ticks cling to pant legs on each of my passes through tall grasses. Solitude out here, without the masses. The Tidewater soil sings a Colonial scent through my nose hairs. Like a sweet musk that lingers through dusk. The periwinkle patches are cut with deer passes and critters borrow in holes that sink deep in sand soils. The woodshed is lit with Carpenter Bees, drunk off the saw dust, not interested in my PB&J crust. They buzz with no sting. The surrounding Colonial creeks, landings and ferries denoted on the topos bring light to Colonial travels. The waterway was the Highway. I imagine the skilled boatmen sticking side by side with their boats, shipping anything that floats. G.W., the OG GOAT must have had a Patriotic boat. Tidewater Virginia is a pleasure to navigate.