[1.1] An orchard, adjoining the house of Leonato; at one side a covered alley of thick-pleached fruit-trees; at the back an arbour overgrown….

(Also known as Central Virginia, a few hours from D.C., last weekend.)

Shakespeare, people. I knew he wrote comedies. I knew, at times, he could be funny. I didn't know just how funny. When Lori suggested we see Much Ado About Nothing at a theater in Staunton, Va., I was game. But I expected more challenge than gut-busting laughter. I was wrong.

Much Ado was very funny. The American Shakespeare Center troupe at Blackfriars Playhouse was very funny. The performance was easily the most funny thing I've ever seen staged. In the heart of the Queen City of the Shenandoah Valley, the crowd roared. It was an amazing show.

We went on opening night, and we had front-row tickets. Somehow. I had been reading the play during my Metro commutes all week, thanks to a gift from Lori. Maybe I was biased. But I'm pretty sure I was won.

Go. The show runs into April. The theater, beautiful, is the world's only recreation of Shakespeare's indoor theater, and it works under original staging conditions. (Theater motto: "We do it with the lights on.") The cast gives themselves only a couple of days to put together Much Ado.

They make their own costumes. They introduce their own shows, play their own music from the balcony during the intermission, look straight into the eyes of the crowd, and all around enjoy themselves. They may be the country's most alternative and originalist Shakespeare players at once. The cast looks liberated, and you feel released just for going.

Silence may be "the perfected herald of joy," but you get this blogging. As modern as ASC's Benedict and Beatrice seemed, a blog feels right.

(If only they let you take pictures inside the theater.)

The weekend was full of surprising moments.

After the long drive down Friday evening, the hotel clerk recommended the Mill Street Grill in an old mill nearby. We walked in, found the place covered in old wood paneling and random holiday ornaments, saw the menu running all over the place, and nearly walked out. Then we found an online review saying the place looked and felt strange — "Shouldn't they decorate more like an old mill?" — but tasted great. We stayed.

On the wine list, we found bottles of Barboursville Chardonnay, one of Virginia's best, for an shockingly low cost. Then we had ribs and shrimp up there with the best we'd had anywhere, and our waitress possibly the nicest either of us had ever met. We were happy we had stayed.

The next day we explored the town. We lucked into beautiful weather.

Mystery Freemason bunny and blue sky.

Old mill and blue sky.

Down by the tracks. The sign is in the middle of a parking lot.

We met a contractor working on the restaurant next to this caboose at the train station. "How'd you like to live in one of those?" he asked.

He then said we could take a look around back, by the tracks. Turned out the restaurant was turning another old caboose into its kitchen.

After lunch, we went to the town's camera museum. The exhibit was compact, set in one large room, but stunning in quantity and quality. Many of the early innovations had surprising, cool ties to Staunton.

Museum owner David Schwartz, a former news photographer himself, shows the camera his friend Bernie Boston used in '81, capturing the stunning seconds after the near-assassination of President Reagan.

We each got to look into an early 1900s (I think) stereoscopic viewer (I think). Schwartz raised the lid as we peered into the viewer, and a city scene shifted from night to day — and not just from dark to light. Wild.

At center, extended, the spy camera James Bond used in Goldfinger.

We had to depart the museum for other stops but met this guy on the way. I love you, guy. I don't know how your owner abandoned you.

A store called Grandma's Bait. … And they were never seen again.

Almost all older, signage all over town was worth stopping for. Even:

An antique car showroom kept its doors open wide all day, and who could resist a banana-yellow roadster next to the front door? If you ever open a store called Patrick's Bait, a car like this will do the trick.

An old Richard Petty car would also work. If I owned this car, I would drive it to work every day. Why, you would ask? Why not, I would say.

We ate dinner that Saturday night, before the play, at Zynodoa, one of the best meals I've had in recent years, yes. When the server said the Caesar salad, of all things, would have the best Caesar dressing we'd ever tasted, and he was right, you could chalk up the greatness right then. But there also the rosé from the Veritas winery nearby, the ash-crusted local cheese (skeptical? taste it), the gnocchi mixed with ricotta from a farm an hour south, the skewered shrimp over a sweet potato-and-jalapeno hash, the warm biscuits, and… the eggnog cheesecake.

The miracle, must-order (truly) Caesar, from Lori's camera:

Other stops in Staunton, not pictured? Woodrow Wilson's birthplace, quiet at the top of a town hill. A quick sighting of the hotel's hidden, old Wurlitzer organ. Easier looks at the occasional exposures of the town's mostly underground, fast, cold-looking, mill-spinning streams.

Last, one great view of our hotel's tremendous neon. Go on, click.

On the way back to Washington, we hit the CrossKeys and Bluestone wineries. Halfway between the Charlottesville vineyards and Northern Virginia set, they were unpretentious and had a couple of wins each.

We stopped for lunch, burgers and custard shakes, at Spelunker's in Front Royal. Then we left the Shenandoah and returned to the city.

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