Greetings, All! I am Duchess, a four-legged furball with a flair for fashion and a heart deeply entwined with the historical charm of Colonial Williamsburg. Today, I want to share a tale of my delightful dilemma. You see, despite the allure of the wild, wild West, I find myself torn between donning my colonial attire and embarking on a journey to uncharted territories. Let me regale you with the whimsical reasons behind my love affair with this enchanting colonial haven.
The Timeless Appeal of Colonial Williamsburg: Nestled amidst the rolling hills of Virginia, Colonial Williamsburg is a living testament to the bygone era of America’s colonial past. Its cobblestone streets, meticulously restored buildings, and authentic reenactments transport visitors to a time when powdered wigs and petticoats were all the rage. As a pup who thrives on tradition, it’s no wonder I’ve fallen head over paws for this historic gem.
Fashionably Colonial: Oh, how I relish the opportunity to indulge in my favorite pastime: dressing up! In Colonial Williamsburg, I am the epitome of canine fashion, strutting around in my lacy ruffles. The locals adore me, and visitors cannot help but marvel at my dapper appearance. Each morning, as I stroll through the town, people smile and curtsy, treating me like the regal pup I truly am.
Partaking in Colonial Activities: Living in Colonial Williamsburg is akin to stepping into a time portal. I find myself participating in various colonial activities that stimulate both my intellect and my wagging tail. I’ve learned how to churn butter, assist in baking delicious treats, and even communicate with my fellow canines in old-fashioned “barks.” It’s an immersive experience that leaves me with a sense of belonging and purpose.
Unparalleled Community Bonding: In this charming colonial setting, I have forged meaningful connections with locals and fellow canine companions. The sense of community is unparalleled. Whether it’s exchanging gossip with Mrs. Pawsington, the poodle next door, or attending social events where humans and their pets gather to celebrate the spirit of the era, my social calendar is always brimming with delightful engagements.
The Lure of the Wild West: But alas, Richard has other ideas. He just cannot sit still. He has been planning this ABSOLUTELY insane trip to Wyoming for weeks. I just can’t stand it. I want to stay here where I am comfortable and safe- but I feel this indescribable loyalty.
The Inner Conflict: Leaving Colonial Williamsburg would mean bidding farewell to the cherished memories I’ve made here. From the elegant architecture to the gentle whispers of history, each corner of this town has imprinted itself on my heart. But as any dog knows, the heart is a vast and expandable space, capable of accommodating new experiences and cherishing old ones simultaneously.
Conclusion: As I ponder over my dilemma, torn between the comfort of my colonial haven and Richard’s allure of the wild West, I realize that the true joy lies in the memories and connections we forge. Whether it’s the joy of prancing through the cobblestone streets in my colonial attire or the thrill of exploring new frontiers, life is an endless adventure meant to be embraced.
So, for now, I’ll savor each moment spent in Colonial Williamsburg, indulging in colonial fashion, and fostering the sense of community that warms this doggie heart.
Duchess,
I think you will love Wyoming! I can’t wait to hear about your adventures. I will of course be anxiously awaiting your return!
Duchess: All will be OK. Richard at age 9 (1956 in case you need help calculating) left for a 6 week car trip with his family from Wilmington, De to California and back. The reason he can so aptly describe your current feelings is that he felt the same then. He had friends at home to play with , but instead he was going to be trapped in the back seat with his mean older bother for thousands of miles. And, Richard’s eating style was different then. He was always on the lookout for a place to stop and have a coke and a donut, or maybe a Howard Johnson’s to spend the night and have an ice cream soda. But, traversing some of the great plains states at that time, he was lucky to find a gas station where he could get a drink of water. Fortunately, his parents borrowed one of the first air- conditioned cars ( a Chrysler New Yorker) from his grandfather or it would have been unpleasantly hot and crowded. As it was, there needed to be a bottle of water in the trunk to be used when the car’s engine overheated because of the air-conditioning. Many adventures later (some fun, and some not so fun), the grand tour was over, and Richard survived. Ask him, and he probably will tell you it was great. Hope you remember your trip the same.