University of Virginia Library

HISTORIC GARDEN WEEK

For the fortieth year, the Garden Club of Virginia is
sponsoring over two hundred open homes and gardens
across the state, treating tourist and native alike to the
splendor and charm of spring in the Commonwealth.
Obviously, the University, from the intriguing
architecture of Mr. Jefferson to the vernal fervor of his
"Little Mountain" resort, finds itself a centerpiece
attraction amidst an annual floral festival unique to
Albemarle County.

"They couldn't have chosen a better week,"
beamed University Guide Pam Clark as she guided
spectators through he traditional Candlelight Tour of
Pavilion gardens. "It coincides so nicely with Dogwood
Week. And the weather too-it hasn't even rained, which

DESIGNED BY DAVID FOSTER
PHOTOGRAPHY BY LARRY MANN AND MIKE POWELL

Ordered, But Not Regimented...

is really atypical of Charlottesville."

Nevertheless, for those with the
time and facilities, Garden Week
annually provides one of the Old
Dominion's biggest publicity
attractions. The offerings vary from
the Japanese gardens and terraced
geraniums of Ednam Forest's
"Friendly Gardens" complex, to the
colonial charm and boxwood
magnificence of Ash Lawn and the
Michie Tavern. The admission charges
are relatively modest (and laudably
utilized for further restorations), the
routes clearly designated by a familiar
green arrow, and even luncheons and
timely refreshments are provided.

One of the most lavish and
impressive features in the state is the
"Morven" estate of Mr. and Mrs.
Whitney Stone. Located on Route 627
four miles beyond Monticello, the
sweeping landscape and gardens of the
1796 home are preceded by a
luxurious drive through natural woods
of pine, dogwood, and redbud. Its
Scottish name, according to guide
Mary Lyle Preston, means "Bridge
Over the Hills"; its beauty perhaps
typifies the natural renaissance of all
Albemarle County. For
environmentalists or simply the
aesthetically-minded, Virginia is
indeed for garden lovers.

—David Foster

...Popular In Appeal But Not Vulgar

Gardening, like architecture, is an eclectic art. It combines elements of
agriculture, color theory, geometry, and land-use planning in an effort to
make a floraphile's delight of a few square yards of ground.

When all these elements strike a pleasing balance, you have an
attractive, gracious garden. When they do better than this, you
have a jardin extraordinaire – the kind of which Charlottesville
claims its share, and which it proudly opens to the public
every Spring.

Garden Week is one of April's highlights at the University,
drawing visitors from all parts of Virginia and from nearby
states as well. The list of attractions includes the gardens and
buildings of Monticello, Ash Lawn,
the University of Virginia,
and a handful of other
loci in the
Charlottesville-Albemarle
area.

Charlottesville
specializes in the
medium-sized,
moderate
garden. More
expansive than the pocket gardens of the cities, more
intimate ("cozy", if you will) than the chatoyant
spreads of the Tidewater, the gardens of Jefferson's
canton appeal to almost every visitor's taste.

They avoid extremes, yet never drop to the Awful
Average. They are ordered
but not regimented, bright
but not garish, popular in
appeal but not vulgar. They
are the kind of garden Orwell
had in mind when he called
the British "a nation of
gardeners" – the sort of
refined floriculture which a
civilized "nation of
shopkeepers" would enjoy.

When a garden is open
regularly to the public, it runs
the risk of degenerating into a
mere flower show. Every
garden fancier knows at least
one plot where blooms are
displayed with the
ostentation of a dime store
window display; but we will

wager the plot was not in Charlottesville.

A good Charlottesville garden is to visit and admire rather
than to gawk at. It greets you cordially and allows
you to stroll about, but never does it pant for
your praise. If you like the garden, the
compliment is welcome, but the flora refuse
to shout their virtues at you.

Walk through the gardens at
Monticello. You will likely feel
that while you survey the
garden, it is surveying you, as
through a lorgnette. There
seems to be an aristocratic
intelligence in the petals
and leaves.

Your taste is
being weighed in
the balances; and
if it is found
wanting, so much
the worse for
you. The garden
knows it is a
superior creation. If the visitor cannot see that, it figures, why
bother with the boor?

In touring the gardens of Monticello and the Lawn, one
wonders why Jefferson spent so little time on garden design.
Surely the man who conceived the delightful symmetries of Ash
Lawn could have planned hundreds of Williamsburg-style
gardens, small and exquisitely proportioned. Why, then, did he
design for the mason rather than for the jardinier?

Perhaps Jefferson looked at flowers too
dispassionately. As a naturalist, he could study
a bloom with a scientist's objectivity, recording
his observations on it as precisely as any other
man in Virginia; but could he really take an
aesthete's view of a tulip or gardenia? Perhaps
not. One suspects that he viewed lower forms
of life too analytically to appreciate more than
a few of their beauties.

But let us be glad that he planned buildings
rather than Wundergarten, that he preferred the
beauty of the Pantheon to that of the Jardin
des Plantes. Had he opted for horticulture, his
monuments would now be part of the Virginia
soil, and he would have left no Monticello, Ash
Lawn, or Rotunda for later gardeners to grace
and Garden Week visitors to admire.

—David Ritchie