The Nickel's View

This day has been almost too wondrous for words but I will select a few anyway in an attempt to explain for you the most wonderful things about today.

Cavey surprised me today and took me to Monticello - the home of Thomas Jefferson and a monument to the man's genius and creativity.

Having always lived the readerly life, I have read about pastoral Virginia and her native sons. I have perused stories about the horse farms and the Blue Ridge Mountains. I read Fawn Brodie's biography of our third president and am well aware that the writer of the Declaration of Independence, crafter of the constitution, died a slaveholder - with many progeny by his mistress and slave, Sally Hemmings - children he never claimed.

And yet this man doted upon the only 2 of his children to survive infancy and lived with grandchildren underfoot for many, many years. By all accounts, these children were much enjoyed by their grandfather.

So, my background knowledge is rich and my love for Virginia and its rich sense of "place" is well-known by anybody who reads my writing and knows me well. I am not being obsequious when I proclaim the beauty of the Virginia countryside, the marvel of her lush greenery, and the architectural superlatives that describe her homes.

Driving to Monticello was one of the most beautiful road adventures I've ever taken. The road is almost covered by the canopies of ancient trees and the lush greenery and
grasslands extend as far as the wandering eye can see.

The roadside churches are perfectly exquisite - I literally sucked in my breath when we passed an old Episcopal church with its Gothic windows and beautiful red brick. The Presbyterians, never as grandiose as their Church of England neighbors, have a simpler dwelling inspired by its austere Calvinist roots - and yet they manage to convey majesty, peacefulness, grandeur, and history - all in a flash beside
the two-lane highway.

It would be heaven to call one of the many beautiful homes along this route home. The horse farms, of course, are for the very rich - and all of the farms have names that are carved on very ornate signs. There are vineyards with acres and acres of grapes - with homes almost too obscured by the growing harvest. Can you imagine living in such a place? Going to the market from such a place? Picking up the mail from the box that rests under the ornate iron sign thatdeclares the name of your "farm?" Driving up the driveway that resembles a small road, to a house nobody can see fromthe road - to your own version of earthly paradise?

But Monticello itself is almost beyond words. Walking those grounds and touring those rooms just cannot be described adequately enough for you to get the true picture of how inspiring and how wondrous this place really is. It is a marvel of architecture and design. The gardens still grow and the vegetable patches, designed by Jefferson himself, still produce. There are trees wider than the expanse of a large man's outstretched hands - trees that were no doubt purchased by Jefferson and planted by one of his workers. Ortrees already there, perhaps saplings, when Jefferson first
decided to move away from his home of birth and to the "little mountain" claimed by his father, Peter Jefferson.

And they remain today.

After the house tour, we emerged onto a terrace that led to the front yard of the house. This, explained the docent, was the "nickel's view" that opened up to one of the largest front lawns you'll ever see. It seems we entered from the back of the house - which is as grand as the front.

We walked past the family cemetery and saw the obelisk that marks Jefferson's grave. He wanted to be remembered as an architect, the author of the Declaration of Independence, andthe founder of the University of Virginia. And that is what the stonecutter chiseled on his tomb. He is surrounded by family and only Jefferson descendants may petition for burial at Monticello.

This trip was truly the highlight of my journey to Virginiathis year. And to top it off, Cavey and I talked about books all the way back. Not just any books, but books that inspire rich thinking and lead to rich writing. This was as itshould be - in keeping with words penned by Jefferson to John Adams many, many, years ago:

I cannot live without books.