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no uncertain fashion.
Over 50 Rappahannockers had already set up their tables and were displaying delicious and exotic fare such as steak tartar, Swedish meat balls, caviar covered eggs, curried venison and cucumber sandwiches along with the great old favorites of fried chicken, ham biscuits and apple pie.
Only one unfortunate episode marred our otherwise dandy, blue-sky afternoon: Em Durant, full of her usual gaity and zest, was stopped literally, in her tracks, when the iron-clad hoof of a horse stepped on her foot and broke a bone.
High lights of the mountain ride were many. We started off from Fletcher’s Double Gates to Millie’s Cabin, climbed the trail up Fielding to the vast view encompassing the top of Lane’s high pasture. There we got a blasting view from Mary’s Rock to Bessie Bell and on south of Woodville. Then we rode through Lane’s orchard. The word, “Heavenly,” was heard repeated by rider after rider, by high voices, low voices, swoony voices, delighted voices, as we filed through the alleys between the pinkish white walls of blossoming trees. Never, but never, has anything smelled so utterly lovely. We floated out of this experience on to Clover Hill, where the Lee Payne’s gave us refreshment to whet our enthusiasm for the rest of the ride. Slaughter Mountain soared above Clover Hill, and we soared right up it, though it must be confessed, in a huffing, puffing fashion. Dunnie Eastham wearing a sporty, broadbrimmed hat looked Rappahannockpicturesque as Dunnie certainly can, riding his white horse up through the dogwood-clad hillside toward the rolling white clouds of a vivid blue sky. Hear, hear! Jim Bill Fletcher led us on over
Washington Bridge Club Entertained
94.7%