FAMILY TIDES: A SUMMER GATHERING ON THE RAPPAHANNOCK RIVER

There are few things more heartwarming than the simple joy of a summer spent together by the water, especially when it’s with the people who’ve known you the longest and the little ones who bring new life to every tradition.

Our family Fourth of July gathering on the Rappahannock River felt like stepping into a postcard—except better because it was real. Siblings, now with children of their own, came from near and far, filling the house with the easy laughter and familiar voices of shared history. And the bonus—the next generation: toddlers in sunhats, little girls on bikes, big boys fishing—reminded us just how special these times are.

The days unfolded with an effortless rhythm. Mornings began with the scent of coffee and sunscreen and the quiet hum of boat motors in the distance. Before long, the river was alive with splashing feet, shrieks of joy, and the splash of cannonballs off the dock. Older cousins taught the younger ones how to float, how to paddle, and how to brave the occasional sting of a nettle.

Afternoons were for sailing in small boats, catching just enough breeze to feel the tug of the tiller and the thrill of steering into open water. The more daring crew took to the motorboat, with shrieks and laughter trailing behind as they bounced along in a tube, clinging tight and begging for one more ride.

There was fishing, too—quiet moments on the dock with rods and reels and bobbers dancing in the sunlight. Mothers and fathers helped bait hooks while kids beamed with pride at every catch. No one cared if it was big enough to keep—it was the telling of the tale that mattered.

As evening came, golden light stretched long across the water, and the river grew still. We gathered for grilled dinners on the porch, passing bowls of corn and stories from our childhoods, now transformed into legends for the kids to carry forward.

And then came the grand finale—our own private fireworks display. Blankets spread across the lawn, heads tilted skyward, and we watched the bursts of color reflect off the river. The little ones squealed and covered their ears while the rest of us took in the magic with quiet awe and grateful hearts.

These moments—of family, of summer, of the Rappahannock—are what anchor us. They remind us that in a fast-moving world, the best memories are often made when we slow down, come home, and hold each other close.

Until next year.