Monticello Collection

So I've been meaning to post about the new Monticello Collection of miniature furnishings.  How thrilling for me, as an ardent Thomas Jefferson fan!  This small collection of dollhouse furniture is copied from the real antiques which grace the well-proportioned rooms of Jefferson's Monticello.  As many of you already know, my own beloved Merriman Park was inspired by Jefferson's architecture.  Here is a chair that I picked up during HBS Miniature's annual 40% off sale.

This Louis XVI style chair is half of a pair --the other chair comes with a rectangular back.  I would have snatched it up as well, but we're still reeling from the $4000 vet bill!  I rather like it sitting on my marquetry table --I imagine the floors of Merriman Park will eventually be finished similarly.  I also have my eye on a walnut card table from the collection.

The woman in the framed photograph is my  mother.  Mother hate, hate, hated to be photographed and always shied away whenever a camera was brought out.  She dodged  the camera as adroitly as the movie star eschews the paparazzi. So most of the photos that exist of her show her face turned away, or partially obscured behind her outstretched hand.  But she thought this particular shot, which is actually her drivers license photograph, was absolutely brilliant and she even kind of showed it off --which was so unlike her.  Though I cherish the photo today, I used to not care much for it, because she was sick when she posed for it and I guess I preferred to remember her when she was well.

But I think maybe her illness forced her to reexamine her issues with camera-shyness and maybe she realized that she had been silly to dread having her picture taken all those years when she was so healthy and so vibrant (and, yes, so beautiful).  So off she went to the Department of Motor Vehicles that day and this time she stared right into the camera and she served them face!  She died of cancer shortly after the photograph was taken in 1977.  Today is her birthday. 

Happy Birthday, Mom.