loudoun farm color tour

From 10am--4pm on every third weekend in October, Loudoun County farmers invite visitors to explore their privately owned farms, nurseries, vineyards, and orchards.  The tour is "self-guided," meaning you better be prepared to do a lot of driving in your vehicle.  

67 miles driven.  Three hours spent eating, drinking, walking.  Five Farm Color Tour stops.  One horrible case of tonsillitis.

I woke up on Sunday morning with a pounding headache behind my eyes and an inability to swallow my cereal without wincing in pain.  After almost two dozen cases of tonsillitis and strep throat in my life, I knew what was coming.  I had about a four-hour window until the chills and intolerable throat pain set in, and there was no way that my inefficient immune system was getting in the way of this weekend's blog entry.  So what if I wouldn't be able to turn my neck peripherally while driving?  So what if I collapsed in exhaustion while petting an alpaca?  Now, that's dedication.

Stop 1: Zephaniah Farm & Vineyard

19381 Dunlop Mill Road, Leesburg

The first--and definitely my favorite--stop on the tour.  I was enticed by their advertised lunch deal: $10 for a glass of wine, a complimentary wine tasting and glass (who doesn't love free stuff?), and a pasture-fed Angus burger.  While speaking with Meredith Hatch, the daughter of owner Bill Hatch, I learned that the tasting room is part of a 170-year-old manor house, Zephaniah was her great-great-grandfather, and the farm produces not only Angus but lamb and honey as well. The burger was incredible: juicy, smokey, delicious.  I'm not much of a wine connoisseur, but the tasting was interesting and I found talking to the proprietors easy and informative.  During wine tastings I'm usually fairly quiet, pretending to understand tannins and acidity and palate with a mock-pensive expression, nodding enthusiastically when the words reserve and barrel aged come up, and the employees are typically so caught up in getting through all the wines and answering highbrow vino-related questions that there really is no time to chit-chat.  However, I spoke with employees for at least a half an hour, and they were not only excellent resources about the vineyard and farm but also about Loudoun as well.  Zephaniah is a place I could see myself visiting multiple times a year, not only for the wine but for the friendly staff, the conversation, and the simple, pastoral setting.

Stop 2: Sweet Home Alpacas

40580 Charles Town Pike, Paeonian Springs

A month ago I visited the Bluemont Fair and was highly intrigued by the llamas and alpacas featured there.  To me, they were much more entertaining than the schedule of eclectic musicians and performers.  "They make a great addition to the family, and they're a tax break, too!" I was told by one of the alpaca farmers.  How fun would it be to impersonate a potential alpaca entrepreneur?, I thought when I saw the alpaca farm advertised in the Farm Color Tour brochure.  I had it all planned out: I'd do some research, learn some llama-jargon, find out typical prices and try to negotiate an advantageous deal.  My plan was foiled, however, when I realized I was losing my voice on the drive out to Sweet Home Alpacas.  Much to my chagrin, none of the alpacas were for sale anyway; they were "just for looking at."  And look I did.  My visit took about ten minutes, in which I stared at an alpaca eating grass, an alpaca eating poop, an alpaca sleeping on the ground, and a baby alpaca walking in circles.  Let's just say that my interest in llamas and alpacas has diminished tenfold since this trek to Paeonian Springs.

Stop 3: Moutoux Orchard

15290 Purcellville Road, Purcellville

These two pictures show the entirety of Moutoux (Mew-too?  Moo-tow?) Orchard.  Lots of...grass...and...some apple trees...and...grass.  Oh, and a barn, which sold about five items: apples, flour, and a few colorful odd-shaped gourd things.  It was what I imagined a grocery store looked like during the Great Depression: empty.  Visitors couldn't even pick their own apples.  I was pretty disappointed, especially since Moutoux (Mow-touse?) seemed highly recommended in the event brochure.  I was here even less time than the Alpaca farm, with my tonsils now touching each other and my ability to smell completely gone.  I had about an hour left until my imminent illness took complete control of my weakened body, so I planned my route home and decided to make a couple stops along the way back to Ashburn.

Stop 4: North Gate Vineyard

16110 Mountain Ridge Lane, Purcellville

North Gate advertised apple wine, and as an apple and a wine fan, I knew I just had to sample some.  I did a quick wine tasting (8 wines in 4 minutes), all of which I could not actually taste and could hardly bear to swallow, and decided to buy a bottle of apple wine to celebrate with when I overcame my tonsillitis a week or so later.  (It was delicious, and perfect for a chilly autumn afternoon.)  North Gate is not a typical vineyard; it is actually run out of the proprietor's home, which looks oddly like a small Bavarian castle nestled in rural Loudoun.  The property was beautiful but had very few visitors.  I listened to a pubescent bluegrass band play an Old Crow Medicine Show song and then I left, dizzy and depressed that the farm tour that I had so looked forward to for three weeks was turning into a miserable Sunday.  But, even if I didn't have growths forming in the back of my throat, I would not have stayed at North Gate very long.

Stop 5: Crooked Run Orchard

37883 East Main Street, Purcellville

At this point on the farm tour, I was fairly sure I was dying.  Breathing became difficult, and the sun made my eyes water so intensely that tears ran down my cheeks behind my sunglasses.  Every shrill cry of a child made my ears ring, and I began to shiver in the 70 degree heat.  I could hardly keep my own head up, never mind attempt to go apple picking, although it looked like a fun time.  Most of the patrons at the orchard were families with young children.  (Warning: wash your fruit.  I witnessed an audacious five-year-old pick up a few apples, lick them, and put them back in their respective bushels.)

I barely made it home to my townhouse in Ashburn Farm.  Immediately, I dropped into bed, whereupon I shivered uncontrollably for three hours and prayed for unconsciousness to come quickly.  It didn't, and I suffered for days, weaving in and out of dreams of alpacas and apples and Angus.  It was a miserable day, but I can always go back to my favorite spots, I tell myself.  Rural Loudoun is here to stay.  My tonsils, however, won't be so lucky.