Tag: Monticello

Posted on

Grace From a Fall

I love it when everyday life experiences provide surprise and insight to the big picture.  Last week was chock full of those kinds of days.

BathroomCleanerWithColorPower

It all started last Monday when I decided I would organize my life by choosing one room a day and give it a thorough cleaning.  Fully energized by my re-commitment to a clean home, I decided to tackle the master bathroom first.  Although I do clean it regularly, I admit the shower stall and garden tub are often left for the “next time” since they don’t seem to pose as horrible a heath concern from going a couple extra weeks as the sink and toilet.  Anyway, last Monday, after I got home from the gym, I pulled out the mat and tossed it into the washer with the throw rugs, sprayed the shower with Scrubbing Bubbles and climbed in (naked of course) with my cloth to finally tackle that soap scum.

My project was going well at first.  I was happy to finally be cleaning the shower, because I do love it when it’s shiny, and I was proud of myself for making the adult choice to clean instead of plopping on the couch to knit and catch up on this week’s episode of Game of Thrones.  Then, I felt my feet slip and with no mat to secure my footing or anything to grab on to, I went from vertical to horizontal in a nanosecond, landing out onto the tile floor, like a baby calf being delivered and dumped onto the ground, wet and naked.  My head hit the floor pretty hard and my glasses were laying next to me, bent in an awkward contortion.

I lay there for a few moments,   taking in the whole scenario.  I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid.  Slowly I got back onto my feet, taking inventory of my aches and pains.  My head was my main concern, my brow ridge bore the brunt of impact, but remarkably there were no cuts or even visible bruise.  I leaned forward over the vanity to get a better look in the mirror, checking my pupils.  I did receive an impressive bruise on my thigh where it landed on the shower door track but all in all, I escaped with minimal damage.  Reassuring myself I wasn’t critically wounded I got dressed and decided that sitting on the couch was a good idea after all.

As I relived my mishap and routinely checked my pupils, still worried about a potential slow bleed in my brain (had to worry about something), I realized that I had received a powerful reminder from God; that life can change in the blink of an eye.  I don’t think I’ll ever clean the shower naked again.

My next revelation came on Thursday when I went in for my annual physical.  I am always just a tad nervous about these exams, similar to how I feel when I take my 2000 CRV in for its annual safety inspection.  We are both “used” vehicles and despite how good care we are given, you never know what will be found when the hood is popped open!  My blood work was excellent as was my muscle tone, etc.  The one noteworthy change in my status was that my height was measured a full inch and a half TALLER than ever before in my life!  How that happens, I couldn’t tell you, the doctor theorized that perhaps my time in the gym has paid off with improved posture.  Maybe I stretched myself when I was flung out of the shower.  It’s a mystery.  But, for whatever reason, I am taller and feeling ever so lithe at my alleged five foot three!

My last day of revelations was Sunday, Mother’s Day.  Dave and I had no plans for the day until we got to church and a friend mentioned that a local artist, Fred Nichols, was holding an open house in his studio in Barboursville that afternoon.  It was a glorious day, sunny and bright, but still cool and spring-like and taking a short drive to look at art seemed like the perfect ticket.

The studio tour was fascinating.  Mrs. Nichols took us on a tour of the silk-screening workshop and described all the steps in creating the beautiful prints hanging in the gallery.  Some go through the printing process over forty times and can take as long as a year  before they are complete.  I would have liked to have taken one home with us, but the prices were out of our league.  After the tour, she invited us to head up the street to their gallery to view works by other artists and enjoy a cup of coffee.  So we did.

It was our first time to actually drive into Barboursville.  You can’t really see it from the highway because they moved the highway a few hundred yards north sometime back to bypass the railroad crossing.  It’s really a shame because what remains of the original town is charming.  Located at the intersection of old US Routes 33 and 20, Barboursville lies between James Madison’s Montpelier and Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello.  On the grounds of the nearby Barboursville Winery are the ruins of Governor James Barbour’s mansion, which burned on Christmas Day, 1884, seventy years after its construction.  All three of these homes were designed by Thomas Jefferson.  With the aroma of boxwoods heavy in the air, it just plain smells historic!

The gallery was in an old building that was originally a hotel.  And, although the walls were hung with the works of very talented artists, which drew Dave’s attention, my eyes were drawn to the architecture of the building, checking the woodwork, moldings and floors for continuity and looking for changes in the plaster indicating a previous window or doorway.  I checked the view from the windows, to get an idea what could have been seen from them a hundred years ago or more.  Buildings like that seem to have their own stories to tell and no matter what you hang on the walls, the story will speak over them, to me at least.

This is all that remains of Governor James Barbour's beautiful home following the fire in 1884
This is all that remains of Governor James Barbour’s beautiful home following the fire in 1884

After our gallery tour we took a quick drive over to the ruins.  At first I wondered why someone would leave the walls of a burned out home left standing.  It just seemed odd and hazardous.  Then I saw them.  Thomas Jefferson’s hand in the design was obvious from the octagonal front hall reminiscent of Monticello as were the two-story wings at either end allowing for a grand ceiling and staircase in that room.  Even though it is only a skeleton of its past grandeur, the Barbour home still had its story to tell.

We walked the full circumference of the house and took advantage of the spectacular view across the vineyards and off to the mountains. It was all so quiet and peaceful.

Then, a bird song followed by a flash of color caught my attention.  And there, atop an ancient Thuja, stood a Baltimore Oriole and from the racket he was creating, there must have been a nest nearby.  What a treat!  I can’t even begin to remember the last time I saw an oriole.

After our tour of the ruins, Dave took me on a proper Sunday drive through the country, taking the byways to see what else we could discover along the way.  It was just another adventure in our lifelong journey together and it was (and is) marvelous.

Okay, so I’ve taken a long trip through last week and you’ve got to be wondering just what my great epiphany was from these three completely different experience.  To be honest, I didn’t really know myself until a few moments ago, I just knew there had to be something.

The way I see it, it all boils down to this.  Life can change in the blink of an eye (or fall to the floor), and even if you don’t find yourself flat on your face, something else you discover about yourself, no matter how insignificant, can change how you see yourself.  Lastly, it’s important to have a companion to share adventures with. Even if you don’t enjoy the same things, enjoying different things in the same place can be just as good.

It was a good week and I’m actually sort of happy to catch sight of my bruise now and then because it reminds me of just how good a week it was, despite its awkward beginning.

 

 

 

Posted on

Thomas Jefferson and Global Warming

After what seems like a solid month of record breaking hot, dry summer days, Mother Nature finally graced us with some cooler, damp weather.  Although some might have preferred this break not happen on a weekend, the change actually worked right into our plans to tour Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello the past Saturday.  Our good friends, Dave “D-Ray” and Vanya Conner, came up from Virginia Beach to spend the weekend and Monticello was on our to-do list.

Last summer’s trips up Mr. Jefferson’s mountain were on hot days in a season with normal precipitation.  The gardens were beautiful but the temperature was too warm to tempt us to linger and enjoy them.  Saturday was the odd wet day in the midst of a very dry season.   The gardens were in rough shape from the heat and lack of rain, but we took the garden tour anyway.

Thomas Jefferson, as it turns out, was quite the experimental gardener.  His beds were planted with not only tried and true vegetables and herbs but also with varieties that he’d found in Europe.  The same was true for the trees and shrubs he planted.  He wasn’t always successful; some plants are just not suited to the climate here in the mountains of Virginia.  Ironically, Mr. Jefferson was the first to attempt to cultivate wine grapes in this area.  Although he was unsuccessful, two hundred years later, other viticulture pioneers tried again, succeeded and created a whole new industry for the state.  This notion of accepting failure as a part of the gardening process struck a chord with me.  All summer I’ve been watching my poor plants struggle in the heat and sun, second guessing myself as to the choice of plant placement; i.e. are my shade areas really shady enough for shade loving plants? If trial and failure was good enough for Thomas Jefferson, I suppose it’s good enough for me.

Something else to ponder…. This morning as I scanned my Flipages, I came across an article concerning the record breaking shrinkage of the Greenlandic icecap this July.  Seen as a direct result of global warming, the Twenty First century view of this is that the waning of the glacier is a bad thing. If you go back in time to the fifteenth century when the Norse colonies on Greenland which had been thriving for nearly five hundred years were struggling to stay viable due to the global cooling and the growing icecap, news of this shrinkage would be welcomed.  Perspective changes everything, doesn’t it?

 

 

 

Posted on

Monticello – Part One

The past couple of weeks have been chock full of activity in our house.  Last Monday, we welcomed our first overnight visitors, Bonnie and the boys – welcomed them, that is, after guiding them to our “Garman stealth” location via Bonnie’s cell phone.  Although our street is six years old, doesn’t appear on all satellite maps, rendering Google maps and some navigation systems useless.  It’s just another quirk about living in the country.

After a quick tour of the new house, both boys declared it wonderful and set off to explore and settle in to their room.  I put them in the FROG (finished room over the garage) where they would have plenty of room, access to the toys, games, puzzles, TV and Wii.  They were in heaven!  Most of the time we were home, the boys were happily up in there room providing Bonnie and I plenty of quiet time to visit.  Probably Seth and Caleb’s favorite feature in our new house was the jetted tub in our bathroom.   Calling it the “Wonderful Bath” they eagerly jumped into it each night before bed, enjoying long soaks as the jetted water bubbled around them.

Tuesday morning we toured Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello.  Mr. Thomas Jefferson was an interesting fellow and his home definitely reflected his personality and varied interests.  I saw some innovative features that would helpful to many homes.  I especially liked the wine bottle dumb waiters on either side of the fireplace in the dining room which brought fresh bottles of wine to the table and took the empties away.  While most of the world may view Jefferson as the author of the Declaration of Independence,
we here in Virginia are also thankful that although personally unsuccessful at it, Jefferson introduced wine making to our area of the state!

Monticello offered many hands-on exhibits where Seth and Caleb could get a taste of life in colonial Virginia.  They both tried writing with a quill.  Seth became inspired and wrote a page full, while poor Caleb demonstrated just why all children in those days were forced to write with their right hands.  Left-handedness and quills are not a good mix.  To soothe his frustration, I led him to an area where the making of a memory journal were offered.  Then, for the rest of our time there, I took pictures per his instruction to add to his journal.

Another exhibit both boys enjoyed was the Griffin Discovery Room.  Tucked away in a quiet corner of the visitor’s center, this discovery area offers hand’s-on enjoyment geared
towards children, but Bonnie and I both enjoyed sitting in the replica chairs
and having a go at Jefferson’s code wheels and “polygraph”.  Seth busied himself by systematically checking out each item while Caleb gravitated to the replica slave family home and began cooking at the fireside. Later, when I asked him what kind of house it was, he said it was for “people helping people”.  I suppose from the display that is what he saw, skilled craftsmen and women helping the Jefferson family – not the best way to look at slavery.

That evening after dinner, Poppa treated the boys to a marshmallow roast in the fire pit out back.  It was great fun.  The boys enjoyed the fire and the roasting, but I think Bonnie and I enjoyed eating the marshmallows more than the boys did!  We had one near-miss when Seth’s marshmallow became aflame and he yanked it out of the fire and almost into Caleb’s hair.  For the most part, it was one of those peaceful moments, a memory in the making, when all the memories of past marshmallow roasts and evening fires flood my mind, bringing all the family and friends who’ve shared these times with me.  It’s a communion of sorts, sharing the molten clouds of sugar with family and remembering those of the past, leaving me warm inside.

The next morning, they were off.  As they were leaving Seth said, “I wish we never had to leave.”  I told him I hoped he would always feel that way about coming to my house.  What a great visit.