It was lovely to see these ladies again (I didn't take any pictures... this is the best I could do).
And now I'm home. In my cozy little apartment. Ready for a nice night of sleep at the conclusion of another road trip.
It was lovely to see these ladies again (I didn't take any pictures... this is the best I could do).
And now I'm home. In my cozy little apartment. Ready for a nice night of sleep at the conclusion of another road trip.
We have no time to stand and stare.
-- from "Leisure," by W.H. Davies
Few people noticed. Most kept their eyes on the ground or looked straight ahead. A few, talking on cell phones, raised their voices in order to be heard over the music. These were, after all, busy people. They had work to do and appointments to keep.
And so they did not stop. And they did not listen. And what they missed was a rare performance by one of the greatest violinists in the world playing his Stradivarius violin, worth more than three million dollars. He chose to play some of the most technically demanding, elegant music ever written for his instrument, and he played with all the passion and perfection that he had become known for throughout the world.
His metro-station concert was part of an experiment proposed by a writer for the Washington Post. The question was “How many people would recognize beauty in a place where it wasn’t expected?” During the 43-minute concert, nearly 1,100 people passed by. Of those, only 7 stopped to listen even for a moment.
The writer, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his article about the unheard violinist, summarized the experience with these words: “If we can’t take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on Earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that—then what else are we missing?”
Jordan thought Monticello would be a little bit more overwhelming from the outside (it looks so big on the nickel!), but loved the interior and the historicalness of it all.
A photo courtesy of the internets (AT) that highlights TJ's alcove bed. I am in love with the idea of an alcove bed. His was open on both sides... conventionally, they are only open on one. 

Jordan is back at school too, and is so excited to be in his fourth (and final) year of dental school. Sure, he's opting for three more years after that for a pediatric residency, but he'll be paid (sort of) during those years, so it'll feel a little more like a job than more school.
Although I did see the light some years later as is evidenced by my squinty eyes, crinkled nose and my awkward mom-gloves gripping my long-stored and newly revived ski equipment, I can still remember the bitter chill of the unknown I felt that Christmas season of 1986.
Our Farmer's Market flowers! Yesterday was only the second time all summer I was able to go to the CFM. So I bought a beautiful wild-flower-y looking bouquet (I think I can only name one flower in the whole bunch).



This is perhaps my all-time favorite family photo. It says so much. Dad had us washing off oranges near the pool. I don't remember a lot, but I know it took all day, and by the end, Morgen had spelled out "this sucks" with all the clean oranges.
Morgen, the accomplished violinist
Morgen, the very sweet son
Morgen, daddy's helper
Also one of my favorites, because Morgen is bursting with joy (maybe tears?) at the birth of his littlest sweetest sister.
Morgen, the great brother