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I By BRUCE SLOANE * Rappahannock News Staff Writer !• You can find plenty of peculiar people in Shirt Tail Hollow and not all of them live there. The Hollow is in Rappahannock County only an hour and a half from Washington, D.C., and even less from the Virginia suburbs that blossom to the west of the city. I Shirt Tale Hollow borders Shenandoah National Park. Some folks can’t tell where the park ends and private property begins. They fail to see the numerous “No ►Trespassing” signs. They slip under the wire at the end Jpf the driveway, ignore the parked cars, and march over the carefully mowed lawn. ; Apparently they think that they are still in the ■park, and because they pay taxes, and national parks belong to taxpayers, they feel like it’s their property. Why [shouldn’t they enjoy themselves on their property? ; Of course, rude or impolite visitors are rare. Most are considerate and delightful. Joy and Uncle Fred remember the time some tourists from Oklahoma came bv. [It was the mid-point of a rainy, warm summer, and the trees, vines, bushes and shrubs were as lush as the Amazon basin. ■ A couple in a car with Oklahoma plates pulled up at [the end of the road. They looked around in amazement [at the veritable jungle surrounding them, and inhaled the green fragrance. They told Uncle Fred they could see more trees in one glance hbere than there were in the entire state of Oklahoma. ! The woman said she wasn’t sure she liked the overbearing canopy of leaves. This was the first time she had been east of the Mississippi, and it was hard to get used ■to Virginia’s rolling hills and lush vegetation. ! Her partner couldn’t understand why she acted so [apprehensive. “Isn’t this a nice change from all the brown and drab back home?” he asked. • “Well,” she said “it’s pretty, all right.” She looked around one more time in amazement. “But how can you [stand it all? Where ever you look there’s nothing but green-green-green!” ' Not everybody was so entertaining. Often Uncle Fred and the group would return home to find families sprawled on the lawn, picnic baskets overflowing. They jnight be only 20 feet from the house, but this is The Country (and they are Taxpayers) so they felt entitled to party here.
When Aunt Suzanne or Uncle Fred tell them they [are on private property, amazement flows across thenface. “We thought we were in the park,” they say; or “We thought nobody lived here” (despite the mowed
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