Just Like Nothing (else) on Earth: Lyndora Park

By Tim Jon 

I wish I’d had time to make the complete circuit around that lake with the little wooded point and the geysers, happily spraying their morning mist for all to enjoy – but I cut my walk short, and I believe that – except for a sleepy bittern snoozing in a side channel – I was the sole soul taking in the sights and sounds of the suburban sunrise. 

Playful alliteration aside, I promised myself to see if the walking trail goes all the way around the body of water, and get a bit more of a physical warm-up on my next visit to this latest discovery of mine in Ashburn, Virginia – Lyndora Park – adjacent to the Broad Run Trail. 

See, I’d spent much of the pre-dawn arrival time in just trying to find access to this local, neighborhood recreation spot that I felt a little winded before I’d even parked my vehicle and got my feet on solid ground; I finally just pulled over in the townhome section along Upperville Heights Square – hoping I would go un-ticketed or towed during a quick jaunt about the acreage over the hill. 

And, I was well-rewarded by a calm, relatively cool, misty atmosphere about the Park and trail-lined lake or reservoir; the nearby ballfields appeared totally deserted at that time of the morning, and I could hear the spray of the water spouts out in the main body of water, flanking the tree-lined peninsula. It was a good place to just ‘be,’ I felt, stopping to breathe the morning air and survey the terrain on the wooden dock and observation deck jutting out over the surface. 

I imagined a much more crowded atmosphere – especially on a weekend – as the sun climbed a bit higher and the local neighbors finished up on breakfast and got the kids – and themselves – ready for a  few hours of enjoyment on the tennis courts, or the soccer and softball fields. 

And, yes, I pictured a number of people just taking a walk along the water, many of them, probably, stopping just here on the dock for a moment of recollection, or conversation – or an ill-fated attempt to catch (and release, according to the signs) that monster lurking in the ‘depths’ of the shallow water. 

I also foresaw many of these Sunday visitors later walking home from their adventures to enjoy some outdoor cooking on such a clear, summery day; what’s a game of softball or a few sets of tennis without a follow-up like a grilled hamburger or hot dog, accompanied by a favorite beverage? 

Yes, Lyndora Park seemed like the ideal neighborhood get-away spot (at least from my perspective on that particular morning) – because I was able to track it down –  in the suburban darkness – with the assistance of my mobile phone and a grim determination to make my morning trip worthwhile. I gladly accepted the welcome from the earth’s elements (ambient temperatures, morning fog, an uncluttered lakefront, and those sprayer-fountains shooting their mist at the water’s surface), and I most definitely felt – at the same time – more relaxed and invigorated as I make my way back up the little rise and into my car. 

Oh, and that sleepy bittern I mentioned at the top of the story? Or – it could have been a heron (call in the ornithologists) Well, he agreed to pose for my amateur photography while I took a stroll out to the little wooden bridge a bit closer to those ballfields – straddling a little ‘run’ (as in, running water) coming down from the neighborhoods. For some unknown reason, I felt it important NOT to frighten the little creature into flight – he really did seem a bit drowsy as I stood perhaps eight to 10 yards away. He just sort of craned his neck a bit to take me in – this crazy, early-morning tourist who hadn’t sense enough to wait for a decent visiting hour. I ceased my efforts at picture-taking and carefully crept away from the spot, leaving him (or her) to maybe find its own breakfast of fish, frog or insect – and then get on with its day. I hope he or she had a good one. And I’ll remember that feathered friend with the railroad-spike beak and brilliant blue plumage. Maybe when I return for a full walking circuit, we’ll meet again.