We seemed to keep crossing the border between Virginia and West Virginia and back again, driving through winding roads with tunnels of russet trees.
It was neat, chocolate-boxy horse country; huge wooden fenced estates with columned houses atop the undulating hills and where there were no horses, designer cows.
The villages and small towns, Gerrardstown, Charles Town, seemed straight from the English countryside.
Not to mention Winchester, which had a Pall Mall Street, a Piccadilly Street, a Bond Street and a Leicester Street. Oh yes and a Cameron Street.
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