Monticello

When I was in seventh grade, I read a book about Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence and Sally Hemmings and his inventions and his estate, Monticello.

I prepared a big presentation for my english class.

I talked about Jefferson during lunch, which most of my friends listened to with glazed over eyes. Unless I mentioned the Sally Hemmings thing. Then Maria Ure would start defending the President with huffy, puffy proof of his virtue and goodness. (Two things I never questioned.)

Until Sophomore year of high school (when I got a history crush on Thomas Paine), I was enamored with all things Jefferson. And I thought it would be just lovely to visit Monticello.

April 2012: childhood dream fulfilled.

I walked up the hill to see "the little mountain" where Jefferson and his family lived, cultivated the land, studied, and died.

It was beautiful.

I couldn't take pictures in the house, but the inventions were my favorite (well, and his books).

Chains in a figure eight under the floor that make the doors swing open and close simultaneously.

Dumbwaiters for the food and wine.

Windows and mirrors and skylights situated so that the rooms were full of light.

Closets above the beds, utlizing space.

The clock that also tells the day of the week, which has weights on a long chain and drops through holes in the floor.

The land was luscious.

I liked to hear about when James Madison would visit and where he and his wife would sleep during their stays. I imagined them walking the grounds and looking at the garden.

I thought about him reading (he had two candle holders attached to the arms of his chair so he could read at night) and thinking. I believe his connection to the land had a great deal to do with his feelings about God and liberty.

I loved it.

I'm grateful to him and the other men of his time.

It was beautiful. If you are ever in Charlottesville,

drive around the countryside, stop somewhere

for lunch, and visit Monticello.