and whatever lies in view is given greater emphasis

and whatever lies in view is given greater emphasis and focus. The experience may not' be conscious, but it is real 1 nonetheless. This may sound i like artistic bologna to some, . but since we all have a vested1 interest in Rappahannock’s • eye-appeal, we ignore such i matters at our peril. When super model Cindy Crawford : polishes her nails and dots ’ her famous mole there is i more at stake than vanity.

A perfect example of a ten-* sion point (in more ways than1 one) is the precarious bend j that occurs at Grigsby’s ceme- o tery on Keyser Run Road (Route 614). Even the staunch preservationists I among us are vexed by. the I sweat-popping squeezes that v occur Here when two ' motorists meet face-to-face, u The bend has now been slatedfor “sight-line improvement,” 1 which is perhaps best, but we t should at least go into the j deal knowing what we are trading away. This is how I experience the bend: •

You get to the comer of ! Route 623 and you slow way J down, not just for safety but | to savor the sights that are about to unfold. As you climb the hill the narrow road is ! lined with rock walls testifying to the skill of their longdead builders. Off to the left your view is directed through a pair of fine granite obelisks to an orchard beyond. If it’s morning that orchard will be bathed in golden sunlight coming from behind you. Frequently it will contain a herd of grazing does or a flock of turkeys. As you reach the crest of the hill there is an \ opening in the foliage that -< permits a view of the horizon beyond — but here’s the joke: , there is no horizon. It’s just a ' solid mass of deep blue-green, • the forested bosom of the Blue! Ridge. As if this weren’t i enough, you squeeze a -lund j the poplar-shaded turn, plunge back into daylight, and’ gaze down upon a magnificent! weeping willow at the foot of ! Snead’s driveway, a tree that manages to be both hideously gnarled and wondrously feminine at the same time. (You’re probably saying to yourself: “This character had better keep his eyes on the road!”)

From a vehicular standpoint this bend is a nightmare, but in terms of visual interest and surprise it is an accidental treasure — the very kind of treasure that brings city folk back to our bed and breakfasts, our fruit stands, and our furniture shops year-after-year. Much of our scenic “capital” has already been expended for the sake of expediency. The fourlaning of U.S. 2ll turned a scenic byway into a fast, anonymous interstate. What i remains should be guarded ; with a fierce tenacity, if not for our own enjoyment, then < to ensure a continuing dividend from tourism. We all -{ have a stake in Rappahannock’s special beauty, including its “substandard" back roads.

Scott McBride

Sperryville