Fog, Rain, Virginia, Rain, Fog

 My husband and I have always wanted to explore the mountains in Virginia and see Monticello.

The weather was bad, but nothing can put a damper on Monticello.

  

 I recommend getting there early and maybe in the rain. It holds off some of the hordes.

What was best about the house were its proportions and scale, which felt uplifting but not grand;  Monticello is actually smaller than a typical MacMansion. Jefferson's architecture is all of commodity and light, with  sufficient ornament and  space to allow clarity of soul and mind.

 Below it, he built whitewashed, windowed tunnels for the slaves.

Beyond it all, he built flowerbeds and vistas for visitors

Plus gardens

 

Below is the grave of the mother of the Jewish family, the Levy's, who saved Monticello till the WASPs got around to taking care of it.

And a burial ground for Jefferson and his descendants, that unfortunately does not include Sally Hemmings or her descendants.

 I recommend a trip to Monticello for any citizen of the US. The beauty of the place, the achievements, interests and complexities of the man and his world, and the complexities of us, the American people, come together here. 

I walked away with a sense of how extraordinary Jefferson was, but also how many human beings had to be counted as less than fully human for Jefferson to be able to be Jefferson. Without their labor and misery he would not have been able to develop, to think, to write, to serve and to rule. He was their unwilling achievement. We owe the Declaration, the Lewis and Clark Expedition, the Louisiana Purchase, the Statutes of Virginia, the University of Virginia, and much more, to them as much as him. 

And so we departed for the Blue Ridge Highway.

It was fog-bound, which is a bit chilling as you pass open precipices. Luckily a band of motorcyclists were just ahead of us most of the time, so we could follow their light.

Mike said we were fine with just the yellow line, but I got comfort from their lights.

It cleared a bit and we got off at Lexington to see my Dad's college, Washington and Lee.

It is a beautiful town and campus. But we were dismayed by the size and placement of Lee's effigy in the Chapel. We then followed what sounded like a full marching band playing "Shenendoah" and came upon the VMA parade grounds, where the cadets were pulling out all the stops for Parents Day.

 

As I have a weakness for men in kilts, I enjoyed it. We then had our best meal of the trip, at a place called Le Bistro in downtown Lexington. All I can say is ...peacan pie and bourbon ice-cream.

We then put up for the night in a generic motel and went the next morning to Poplar Forest, Jefferson's "country" retreat, or where he went to dodge all the visitors at Monticello.

 

It really is a mini-Monticello, built on much the same modified-octagon plan. Because it is smaller, less crowded and less furnished you really feel the power of the classical proportions when you are in the rooms. Our tour-guide, as were all the guides we heard on our trip, was amazing.

And from there we headed up to see a Lodge in the mountains we presumed closed.

Except that it wasn't. And we got to spend the night there.

It's called The Peaks of Otter, and it is wonderful: not to expensive, comfortable and low-key,  and flush with nature, with trails leading up, down and around.

 It would have been nice if the fog had lifted so we could see the mountains, but I do not think my husband or I felt any the less cheer for the lack.

I do think though, we have to go back to Virginia at some point when the sun is actually out.

Outside the Library/ The Swann Fountain

Outside the Library is the world, an interesting world with complex currents, historical, present and future, shaping  the near neighborhood.

Directly in front of the Library (what famous picture does the above remind me of?) is Shakespeare Park with its sad statue (somehow the clown looks as fraught as the melancholy Prince. I would have added Portia or Rosalind or Imogen to balance the unbalanced extremes.And put more than one quote on the plinth. Nevertheless, I love that we have a Shakespeare Monument.)

Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.            Sonnet 55  

These lines where written to the young man in and through whom Shakespeare experienced the fullness of Love. But it's hard to make a statue of Love. (oh wait...Love Park is just up the Parkway.)

Below is the view from the back parking lot. You can see the new Barnes on the left, with its insufficient parking, and on the right building trailers that will be used for the coming Library expansion, with its insufficient parking.

(Screed Warning.) Oh that such an expansion would include parking, which is already getting too tight as the neighborhood keeps developing. If you rank high enough at the Libes you get free parking on Wood St. But the majority of workers are usually scrambling to find close, affordable parking. Since the Library is radically understaffed and most of us work our buns off in often difficult conditions--wouldn't it be fair if the people least able to pay for parking were given a break?

If you walk half a block south, you are at Logan Square. If you look in one direction, you see the art Museum.

If you look in the other you see City Hall.

 And also the Swann Fountain, sculpted by the middle Calder-- Alexander Sterling, from plans by Wilson Eyre.

Usually the Fountain is obscured by blowing jets of wild water. But in winter you can  see how sensually Calder portrayed the power of his river gods. You can almost feel water moving along  you as your eye follows the forms of their bodies.

Above is the maiden of the Wissahickon with her swan;

Below is the strong maton of the Schuylkill.

And the male is for the Delaware.

Isn't that an amazing male torso?

 

 

Below is a picture from when the Fountain was first put in.

And here are the original landscaping plans for it. Both these images are from an untitled book by the local firm Harrison, Mertz and Emlen Inc., published in 1933.

And yes, in summer children swim in it. You can almost hear their giggling from the Library.

We Work in a Palace

The Library is a palace. We just forget that sometimes.

 

I have worked in a palace for almost 30 years. How has that affected, or even effected me? Look at the scale of everything, the soaring ceilings, the dizzying wells of light, the classical proportions based on the human body. How different than the usual office building.

 

The ordered ornament (these two words share a root,) with which we have mostly ceased to adorn and adore learning, remains powerful here.

I'm glad this has been my environment. Even the grit and shoddy patches that time has heaped on it cannot lessen it's truth -- that libraries are magic. By that I mean the real magic, not tricks, nor sleights, nor conditionings, nor distorting mirrors (and all our mirrors distort,) nor exploitations, but the harmonic workings tween the wonder at the root of the soul and the magnanimity at the apex of the spirit.

We all work in a palace. Some of us just have a grand building around us. But all of us work in a palace.