You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
10 February 2026, the horrific cold spell has relented, at least temporarily, and we've ventured out from the southern parking lot into the Montgomery Hall jungle.
We're taking the Yulee Trail for a start. No one's been out here yet, and we'll get to try out our skills of walking on the 'snowcrete'.
Sans 'raquettes à neige' (our French TSL snowshoes, which we didn't bring with us from La Suisse.
We're not alone, though.
One of three denizens of the cold outdoors, parading on the trail, and scampering off into the underbrush.
The nasty but intriguing vines look . . . well, distressingly bare now.
The Montgomery Hall environment looks different at each time of the year.
A brief pause for a breather. This 'snowcrete' is just a wee tiny little bit tiring.
We'll soon be coming down onto the crossover place for the Expressway.
That's a deer-frequented path leading up to the pavilions at the top of the hill.
But we've taken the crossover place to join the Expressway, confident that we can keep to the snowed-over trail without getting seriously lost.
(The little yellow marker on the tree in the background should calm all doubts.)
There's the wreckage of the landmark tepee.
(How could anyone have been so thoughtlessly brutal?)
We continue up the Scout trail, round its sharp turns . . .
. . . staying inside the fence off the pastures.
-- Are we still on the same page about getting down to the carpark?
Or just playing catch-up.
Piles and piles of 'snowcrete', 2½ weeks after the storm.
The cats seem to have their own sleeping rituals . . .
. . . which seldom change.
That's a primitive work of art that we brought with us from Switzerland. It's probably about 36 or 37 years old, but holding up well.
The very helpful support structure for the annual crèche has found a new purpose in life, or in our lives rather.
It will henceforth be hosting Kristin's collection of Venetian cavalli, or ornamental seahorses based on decorative fittings on the gondolas.
But they are NOT oarlocks. Gondoliers pole with a single oar.
That's not all of them in the flat at this time -- a number of smaller ones are employed up on the mezzanine as bookends.
Melvin likes the glittery cavalli very much (but, of course, doesn't show it).
Pandora again, with a new acquisition just below
Montgomery Hall Park in Staunton, Virginia (bis)
The Scout trail from the southern carpark, 16 February 2026: the snow's gone from anywhere the sun has had free rein on the path.
The cows are enjoying what may be a brief outdoor experience amongst weeks of unwelcome thermometer readings.
-- Mind your head.
We're zig-zaggy climbing up to the summit of Black Dog Mountain.
One more zig, and another zag, and . . .
. . . we're there.
Down we go, along the edge of the pastures off to the south and west, with . . .
. . . a few more zigs and zags thrown in.
Oh no -- another bitter moment. We'll probably be grieving here forever.
Whoever destroyed the landmark tepee had the appallingly bad taste to throw the ruins off on both sides of the trail, perhaps so that . . .
. . . hikers won't spend too much time grieving over it.
It's so depressing that we're resolved just to liaise up to the Yulee trail and go home.
The car's just above us here, maybe 5 minutes off.
Augusta Springs Wetlands, again
We're on the Uplands Trail, 17 February 2026, skating over the 'snowcrete'.
A rear views of this part of the Uplands Trail, whence we've just come, avoiding melted out mud patches under the snow.
An intersection at the foot of our climb onto the ridge, on the right, and a liaison down left to the forbidden Hotshots training grounds.
As it transpired, we reached the top of the ridge but discovered that Kristin had lost her scarf. So now we retracing our steps, with an eye to potential scarf-grabbing vegetation . . .
. . . which is highly unlikely to be hiding any scarves.
Kristin's rushing on ahead, desperate for some kind of good news . . .
. . . whilst we dawdle to memorialize some of the local countryside.
No scarves yet.
Still not.
One is inclined to think through other possible solutions to the disappearance of this scarf.
There's been no one else out here in this goofy weather, so it's not been stolen, and it can't have been blown away.
We've looked everywhere now . . . except the car.
By this time, it's no surprise. When we arrived, a kindly gentleman with a nice dog was getting out of his car when we were getting out of ours, next to his. And we found Kristin's scarf neatly tucked in behind one of our side-mirrors.
There are lots of kindly people still around, aren't there?
Though here's one who just might not be so kindly after all. We go by his sad little display every time we come down to Lake Sherando from the I-64, and . . .
. . . his embarrassing displays are always good for a laugh.
This is the lobby of our 'Old Y' condo building, named for the old YMCA.
It's very nice, and we have small parties here with the other owners from time to time.
And after some years here, we've finally got the elevator company to introduce some reliability to the ancient machine. Though it cost us a bundle to replace all of the electrics.
At least we get our mail regularly, and can admire one of June Jordan's paintings every time.
Next up: Waynesboro's South River Greenway Trail
Dwight Peck's personal website
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 23 March 2026.
