A road trip

This Sunday my husband and I are hopping in the car and heading down to Charlottesville, Virginia, to visit Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. It’s one of my favorite places, if not, so far, my favorite place I’ve ever been. I’m really looking forward to showing my husband Monticello. I’m not expecting him to feel the same as I feel about it, but, as a history major, I’m sure he’ll enjoy being a tourist.

Best part: the gardens. At this time of year the flower garden looks like an organized attack of wildflowers. I’m hoping especially to see love-lies-bleeding, bloodflower, and flowering tobacco, whose flower smells sweet and a little like jasmine, but comes out only in the evening or if it’s a cool part of the day. I was lucky one mid-September afternoon—and probably won’t be this trip since it’s going to be hot and we’ll be there in the morning.

If it were allowed, the winding walk flower garden is where I would have gotten married. However, the place is open every day except Christmas, and the Jefferson Foundation doesn’t place weddings on their top ten list of preservation strategies (I asked during one tour; they said no). Perhaps if I could prove myself a direct descendant of Jefferson the idea may have been considered? I thought about a secret elopement in the corner of the garden, but if I were going to get married at Monticello there were going to be guests and pictures. I’ll ask again this trip, and if they’ve changed their minds I’ll get a divorce and remarry my husband, just for the wedding. About this I think I’m only 30 percent kidding. In other words, I really like Monticello. I considered working there after college in some capacity, but magic is lost once you go behind the curtain.

It must have something to do with Jefferson himself. Granted, Monticello is genuinely appealing to many people--it's not an ugly place--but I like knowing that Jefferson was there. I share none of his intellect, eloquence, foresight, or taste, so I can't view Monticello or the world as he did, but I like being close to it anyway. What I can relate to is his struggle between ideals and reality, and how he could never really get the two to meet. The hardest person to fight is yourself.

It's peaceful up on the mountain, even with all of the tourists around. I'd love to have it to myself for a morning, but it wouldn't be authentic. Since Monticello was a plantation, in its "glory days" there would have been many, many people moving about the grounds all day as well, just with more purpose. Ideally, had I been able to visit during the "glory days" (the quotes remain due to slavery), James and Dolly Madison would have been there, and the cook would be serving the French dish of noodles with melted cheese that Jefferson liked. Mmm.

Update: I didn't ask about weddings. It's better that way.