Middleburg is an easy town to fall in love with. I did at a very young age and I am lucky to call it home. I fondly cherish my memories of 40+ years loving Middleburg and want to share them with you.

My favorite tastes of Middleburg past include the taco salad at Mosby's, Jack Daniels Ice Cream at Huckleberry's, everything at the Coach Stop (but particularly their Caesar salad that you could taste for days), and the chicken sandwich on pumpernickel from the Hidden Horse, which probably had a formal name and any Panini at Mello Out. I also specifically remember the first time a cow puddle touched my lips and how it made a mark on my taste buds forever.

I like to joke that I've worked the streets in Middleburg, as I've worked at The Finicky Filly, Horseradish and Lou Lou- the original and Too. I have dressed many of you for occasions special or not, picked out and wrapped your gifts and played the dressing room therapist with confidential ears. I enjoyed every moment, even the weird ones like when regular shoppers felt it necessary to show me their new boobs. My absolute favorite moment was when a shopper selflessly paid for a little girl's Christmas gift for her mom when she came up short as she counted her coins on the countertop. That's the real Middleburg.

Folks from far and wide come to town for the Christmas parade, but there really is nothing like riding with the hunt down Route 50 when it's snowing. Nothing. Like. It. It's truly one of the most magical things I've ever done on horseback and something I look forward to every year as a member of Middleburg Hunt.

Long before the Middleburg Film Festival, town has attracted many celebrity visitors and residents. I remember passing a young, single JFK, Jr on the street and had a total out of body experience where he fell to his knees and said "Where have you been all my life" as he kissed my hand and pledged his eternal love to me. In reality, I rubbernecked past him with my mouth wide open catching flies. No wonder he didn't fall in love with me at first sight.

I remember dancing with my mother at home practicing for the 8th grade cotillion at the Community Center. I had the box step down and knew I was going to be asked by many to show off my keen moves. Well, that didn't happen. One side was lined with boys and the other with girls, and as I recall, no one danced. That could have totally been my 12-year-old mind fooling me into thinking if I wasn't asked to dance, then no one was.

Horse shows at Foxcroft were a spring tradition. When I was two, I begged my mother to enter me in the lead line class, as we were already there for her to compete. I competed her horse in a car coat and "wellies," and I thought my light blue consolation ribbon was the prize of Champions. I also have a scar on my leg from falling off over a coop on the outside course some 10 years later. Large ponies used to jump 3 feet on the outside course at the shows at Foxcroft and I have the scar to prove it.