Dawn is very noisy. There’s a rooster. A rooster very near, like next to my head. The sun is barely up, and he is hard at work. Also, something else making a racket I can’t quite place. A sheep? No sleeping through it, rise and shine.
“Just pulling out of the driveway. Of course. Still a lot of things to fix.”
“Oh. OK, well, call when you get here. Not sure where we’ll stop, but we’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
Two hours later, Freeport Landing looks deserted. The sun is low, throwing long shadows across the water. A row of empty trailers lined up near the ramp. One lone boat there. Hmm, maybe someone went along as crew and left their boat. And Mike’s Melonseed is anchored off the beach. Not a soul in sight, though. Sometimes people double up for company or to lend an extra hand.
Urbanna really is like Scottsville on the Rappahannock, even more than we imagined.
The old town of Urbanna is only a couple of blocks long in any direction. Resting on the bluff above the harbor, it’s easy to walk the whole thing in a few minutes. Several stately buildings pre-date the Revolutionary War: the old Custom House, a former Scottish general store, the original courthouse converted to a church in the 1850’s. Side streets are narrow and shaded by big trees.
Every year for our anniversary, T and I try to go somewhere new. We don’t need to go far – west is the mountains, east is the Bay. We can arrive within a few miles of a place we’ve been before and have it feel completely different. This year – just upriver from Deltaville, and Gwynn’s Island, within sight of the creek that leads to Irvington, and beyond that Windmill Point, all places we’ve been before – Urbanna gets the nod.