Just Like Nothing (else) on Earth: Brandon Park (Revisited)

By Tim Jon

It’s the same place, yet it’s a completely different place; it’s a bit of the forest primeval, and still, it’s a new beginning for swaths of new trees. Really.

 “So – has Tim Jon finally, completely lost it?” 

Well, I won’t answer that question, but I will stand behind my first sentence. See, I had to come back to an enticing location because a local work project had done so much to change it; I almost wouldn’t have recognized Brandon Park after all the physical alterations over the past few years. Anyone passing by the short section of Harrison Street that bisects the recreation area would have noticed a major public improvement project: they shifted the stream-bed for Tuscarora Creek, removed the old growth trees which stood along the existing waterway, shored up the adjacent stream banks, and planted a whole new forest of seedlings.

 I’m probably omitting several other important facets of the job, but the aforementioned were most noticeable to yours truly. 

It was a painful process watching the mature trees disappearing—along with the old stream-bed, but now that things have settled down, I’m trying to appreciate the changes in terms of long-time improvements – for the ensuing decades, if not centuries. That’s the hopeful side of me. 

So the morning of my long- anticipated return visit, I was rewarded by the increased expanse of grassy walking areas- especially on the southwest side of Harrison. And as I explored this new (to me) territory, I was able to more fully appreciate the remaining stands of greenery outside the boundaries of the local park. It struck me that this – considering we’re within the Town limits and all – represents old growth timber – virgin forests – or at least fulfills that role in my imagination (unexplored territory!). 

And, yes, I noticed a growing sense of beatific calm engendered by the gentle flow of the nearby stream, the chirpy activity of the morning birds and a faint mist (I at least thought I could see) rising against the darker gloom under those more distant trees. These are the things I leave my couch for; these things I find as valuable as the coveted commodities of many others. I’m very happy with the intangibles, thank you – things that don’t come in a box. 

And in this category, I will stipulate that I well understand that – according to the Leesburg Town government, the ‘parkland’ lying to the west of Harrison Street at this site lies – technically – outside the boundaries of Brandon Park; to me, it’s all part of the same public-use open space and I refer to both sides of the street by the same name. The visible work and its effects appear essentially synonymous both in and outside the official boundaries. I consider it: one Park, one project, one experience. 

I understand the playground at the site underwent improvements as well – now being more accessible for those affected by mobility issues. The ‘Brandon’ side of the street now features a new “Bat-Box” as well; you should recall my reactions to these things after I made their discovery in the southern section of Fox Ridge Park along Catoctin Circle. I’m glad to say I’ve been a “Bat-fan” nearly all my days. 

So: yes, I support the long-range changes to Brandon Park and its neighbor across the street – despite the discomfort at seeing the initial destruction of some of the existing natural features. I’m mostly good with it all. And I’ll be even happier when those now-scrawny tree seedlings get large enough to throw some shade, and send out root systems muscular enough to hold the soil along the sloping creek bank. 

They’ll (I’m hoping, again) provide environments for the great-great-great (and then some) grandkids of the birds from my recent visit – as well as enticing gangs of squirrels to raid the treetops and maybe even hassle the stray visitor who falls asleep on the park bench along the Creek! I recall, here, that years ago (oh, we’re talking late 1990’s and early 2000’s) I used to see herds of deer off along those remaining stands of woods to the west of Harrison – in the adjacent meadow areas.

I’m hopeful, as well, that some of their offsprings’ offspring still haunt the mature timber back there and the surrounding environs. There I go hoping again.