Gray and cool today with moment of sunshine—the latter just not when I headed out for my walk. It started to rain, but I was already committed, if not a little underdressed for it. Thankfully, it didn’t last long. The real thunderstorm hit later this evening. On my walk I took a shorter route in a direction I normally don’t go and came across one of the town’s historical markers. I’ve probably seen the sign many times, but I’ve never stopped to read it. Funny to think my little town was a summer getaway for DC residents. Today, some people look down on us, the red-headed stepchild of some of the more chichi regional communities. Properties right “next door” are 30% higher. I have few complaints about my adopted community, where I’ve lived for 20 years now—longer than anywhere in my life.
The picture on the historical marker shows 19th-century folk gathered in front of a big house, which is long gone, replaced by a 7-Eleven and upmarket townhomes. I’d love to go back in time 200 years to see what this region looked like before we stole it from the native inhabitants. I’m guessing much of my town was a swamp, or wetlands and wet woodlands, judging by all the water and where it flows, oftentimes in peoples’ basements after a good downpour.
We got our first Covid shots today following a tip from a friend who got her doctor to allow us to register with him for the vaccine, circumventing the slow county roll out. We didn’t expect a hallway full of others. There a dozen people ahead of us and close to two dozen behind us after we’d waiting in line for 20 minutes (not a whole lotta physical distancing going on). But they were well organized and friendly. One down, one to go!