Approaching the riverbank, I could not help but think of how serene this area was. Yet, when I closed my eyes, I could easily imagine the scene unfolding around me. The smell of burning wood and black powder, the sounds of groaning men passing by and muzzle fire echoing in the distance, and the din of the marching columns and horses nearby completed the imagery in my mind. I felt the need to turn away from the river and face the house the Zabriskie’s built along the water’s edge. Today, this home is well kept, manicured, and freshly painted, but something was missing out front. Nonetheless, my imagination filled that void and placed the old fox back on that porch. I could see his stoic outline and his gaze looking intently past me to the timber bridge watching the commotion occurring just yards away. While it was some time ago, being here conjured up all the emotions one would expect when you are reminiscing about one of history’s greatest leaders.
Great piece, Ray.
Nice work NJSP! Thanks for the work that you do!