I grew up in Orinda, CA in a house on the side of a steep hill with a gorgeous view to the west of the Berkeley Hills. (Our cousins from Minnesota thought they were mountains, which you’ll understand if you’ve ever been to Minnesota.)
Other than a few years in Houston, my parents always had a house with a view. When my dad retired and my parents moved to Kerrville, Tx, they built on the side of a steep hill with a gorgeous view to the west of the Texas hills. (Again, mountains to some people.)
There are lots of nice things about living in Old Town, Manassas but one of them is not the view. I long for a view of the mountains. When it gets to a critical level, we go to Wintergreen and rent one of the condos on the top of the mountain, right smack on the ridge. Rachel and I relax and do very little of any consequence during the day. That is, unless you consider walks, music, reading, talking and looking at the view to be of consequence.
Usually, we drive down into the valley one night and have dinner at the Basic Necessities. It is unpretentious and interesting and there’s someone playing acoustic guitar music. There are probably only 8 or so tables in the place. I’m not sure how they stay in business but I’m really glad they do.