Stop and smell the roses

A one-post chronicle of my trip to Norfolk, Virginia to visit with Maria – June 9-12

My latest travel adventure began with a white-knuckle drive over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel – a 23-mile feat of engineering that is nonetheless rather disconcerting (12 miles of low-level trestle bridge, 2 high bridges, 2 1-mile, one-lane-each-way tunnels). I managed to cross it with eyes only for the road ahead, constant talking to myself (“I am welcome in this place” – a mantra my friend Jo offered for self-comfort), and careful monitoring of my speed (50-55 in the 55 zone).

Daunting bridges are often gateways to my vacation adventures, provocatively appropriate, if you ask me. Vacations are for separating from everyday life, for taking a more distanced look at the waterways that drive the current of my days. (The metaphor loses a bit of punch considering the reality that I deliberately don’t look below when going over bridges ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) Much can be gained from emptying out the bucket I’ve been carrying and trying to see things from a different perspective.

I took this vacation primarily to spend time with my friend Maria – up from Florida to house- and dog-sit for her brother in Norfolk, Virginia. We had lots of talking to do (reference emptying the bucket and trying to get a different perspective as above), but Maria also scoped out some sites to see that did not disappoint.

Day trip, day one

Our first full day (Tuesday), we took a long drive down the coast to Edenton, North Carolina – a lovely waterfront town Maria discovered on her drive up. It is one of those quaint southern villages with cute shops, nice restaurants, and friendly people – who nonetheless roll up the sidewalks at 5 pm and seem to not take themselves too seriously.

The town’s roots are strong, however; in 1776, the women of the area, led by one Penelope Barker, showed their mettle by signing on to boycott tea and cloth and other items subjected to tariff by the stamp act. They were the original “tea party,” and one of the first known women’s political action committees.

We learned later that the veneer of quiet Southern charm was a bit of an illusion. Our first clue may have been noticing the confederate flag flying in a small park area in town (it was a memorial to confederate dead, but still). The divisive politics of our day have apparently touched Edenton hard.

We walked the streets, checked out the art and crafts on offer, chatted with proprietors, and had a lovely lunch at the Herringbone on the Waterfront (in a transformed fish processing plant, beautifully renovated by Down East Preservation, which apparently has made quite a business doing such things with flair.) Maria picked up a few art pieces in the gift stores, but I am being a bit more careful in adding to my collections – a few items caught my eye, but I couldn’t figure out where I could put them! Another pride of the town is the 1886 Roanoke River Lighthouse – the last pile-driven light house in the U.S. Picture-perfect. (Windy day, but lovely nonetheless.)

Botanical garden tour, day two

On Wednesday, we went to the Norfolk Botanical Garden. But first, we waited out the morning rain by holing up for a bit in the funky Starving Artist Café, a terrific find in the artsy section of Norfolk. My brunch was quite tasty, and Maria couldn’t say enough good things about their mac and cheese.

We got to the Garden just as the last showers ended. You all know how prideful and precious I can be about Longwood Gardens, but honestly, Norfolk has a lot going for it as well. Lovely canals run through the place, and there are multiple garden scenes – a colonial house, a statuary garden, a fountain allay, a gorgeous (and restful!) reflection garden. We even had a 45-minute pontoon tour of the canals and Lake Whitehurst. And they’re building several new greenhouse spaces which will tempt us to visit if we ever wind up meeting in this area again.

There’s no match for a long walk in nature for soothing the soul and opening the mind. The scent of flowers (including over 300 varieties of roses in the Bicentennial Rose Garden), the cooling touch of breeze, the call of birds, the burble of fountain spray, and the meditative meandering on walking paths (occasional airplane sounds notwithstanding) are all the Garden’s gifts.

It strikes me that gardeners do a fine job crafting botanical vistas and tending to natural habitats, but the divine force that conjured the amazing variety of plants and the delicate ecosystems to sustain them is beyond imagining. We need to continue to do our part to save these heavenly gardens (both gated as in a botanical garden, and natural as in the nearby woodlands), lest we lose the psychological medicine and counter-cultural breathing space they offer to a frantic and fast-paced world.

 

 

As hinted above, one jarring (yet oddly truthful) juxtaposition you find there is the Garden’s proximity to the airport – we could literally hear the jet engines’ roar and see the planes’ rapid ascent as they took off just beyond the Garden entrance, and we were under the landing path when we were out on the boat tour. Turns out the Garden and the Airport were both projects of the Works Progress Administration – government-funded projects that put people to work in the depression (one of thousands of examples of government working for the people!). Still the pairing perhaps shows how modern conveniences and ancient natural environments can indeed co-exist.

That night, our tired feet found a neighborhood Italian restaurant that served up a heaping helping of delicious pasta, which was the perfect restorative.

Art by human hands, day three

For our last stop, on the half-day we had together on Thursday, we made our way to the Chrysler Museum of Art. Wandering art museums and galleries is one of my favorite vacation activities, and I appreciate getting to see this one with a fellow art lover.

The museum is known for its glass collection, and it lived up to its billing. A life-size man, beautifully etched and decorated décor pieces, a Frank Lloyd Wright window, and a tiffany wall-size triptych – all deserved to be admired at length. We were most struck by the delicate and funky work by bead weaver Joyce J Scott, whose complicated chest plates (necklaces) displayed a clear artistic vision about what it means to be black in America.

 

 

A walk through the European art galleries delivered many striking paintings, and my eye is always drawn to the Renior pieces. Something about the way he shows the play of light in impressionistic strokes just rivets me (check out the dappling!). We were noticing the light in many of the works – how it streams in from an angle and the significance of what is in light and what is in shadow. There’s a metaphor for you!

 

Retracing steps

As you all know, I often vacation alone, so it was quite a treat to have a companion to ooh and ahh with on this trip – to notice things that I missed, to share long conversations and interesting observations – whether strolling in town, taking in a nature preserve, or wandering a museum. Maria and I talk frequently by phone, and it’s fantastic to be in the same space for several days. As with many friendships, we never run out of things to talk about. Relationships are messy, as both of us have experienced too well – but real close bonds are a gift beyond measure.

This is the life…