Tolerant readers (are there any other kind?)
will recall a Summer digression on the boat-
ing stripe, in particular in Visconti.
I invoke that classic in the way others
resort to the white flag, not of surrender
but of truce, which I really feel like ex-
ploiting to my private delight and that of
my dog, this weekend, and to the relief -
one can only hope - of those who keep up
with what the page churns out from day to
day. It's October in Virginia, and believe
me, if the place has the slightest excuse,
this is it. For us, to go down to the wa-
ter, represents not the slightest paradox.
Next weekend, of course, are the Montpelier
Hunt Races. Please do not imagine, we would