George Washington’s Birthplace at Pope’s Creek. Here the main house rides the tides above a lazy, wide estuary, crowded with Canada geese, as it drifts into a navigable bay of the Potomac, which is a lazier, even wider estuary, and which is even more thickly trafficked by flocks of noisy Canada geese. At winter sunset, the frosty site took my breath in a gasp.
The house on the site is a 1932 concoction. It doesn’t even purport to be what was built on the site by Washington’s father. That house, and all the other buildings built by the Washingtons, seems gone. But what is there is gorgeous and site-sensitive, and there must be terrific exhibits of 18th century planters’ life here, for all that.
I was disappointed that on the day I arrived, the site was closed because of the recent “Government Shutdown”. Still, Park Ranger Ian, the stalwart superintendent, came in on what should have been his day off. He found me roaming among the cattle, apologized charmingly, then faithfully and informatively, escorted me off the grounds.
I shall return! So said another general, the Virginian Douglas MacArthur. And blessings on our United States National Park Service.









