by Mary Wakefield Buxton –
Urbanna, Va.— To celebrate a 78th birthday we journeyed to Louisa to spend an overnight at Prospect Hill Plantation, circa 1772. For my birthday I was hoping for wisdom and peace.
The plantation today consists of 40 acres of both open and forested land in the middle of beautiful Virginia gentleman farm and horse country. It is less than a two-hour drive from Tidewater, which is especially appreciated with traffic on 64 so heavy these days. Two hours of speeding trucks and bumper-to-bumper traffic is all my nervous system can tolerate.
The stately three-story plantation house is elegantly set amidst gigantic sycamores and painted in yellow with contrasting white columns, front and back porches and woodwork. The estate comes with alpacas, horses, dogs, and cats and about 10 restored cottages, which can be rented, that once housed a summer kitchen, slaves, overseers, managers and visiting guests. There is also the original pre-Revolutionary War log cabin that was the first building on the property that has been restored and is also available to rent.
There were no locks on any doors and so we were able to peek inside the cottages; each bore a brass plate labeling its past use, and each contained an old “working” brick fireplace and period furniture. Each cottage also had a covered porch with rocking chairs that overlooked either the swimming pool on one side of the property or pastures dotted with several old barns on the other.
Immediately upon our arrival, the owner greeted us and took us on a historical tour which included the interesting fact that General Longstreet had attended a wedding here after the Civil War. Since the plantation was up and working during the French and Indian War, Revolutionary War, War of 1812 and Civil War, and all other wars since, the homestead reeked of American history as much as the original wooden floors creaked as I walked through the rooms gazing on the beautiful collection of antiques.
The best part of all was the fantastic menu for our gourmet dinner later that evening in a formal dining room with tables laid with fresh linens, china, silver, candlelight and fresh flowers. The astonishingly varied menu included seafood, pork, chicken, beef, lamb, quail and duck along with a splendid array of desserts.
My dinner was back-fin Chesapeake blue crab ringed in avocado and tomato topped off with gulf shrimp, stuffed pork chop with cornbread and apples, potatoes and asparagus, homemade French bread served with honey butter, and a bottle of French wine.
Chip ordered the roasted quail and lamb chops and proclaimed everything delicious. I folded, however, upon presentation of the most decadent array of desserts ranging from hot chocolate cake smothered in marshmallow, brownie with chocolate ganache, to meringue served with ice-cream and strawberries. Without any fanfare, wisdom arrived as I knew if I ate even one more bite of food I would not sleep a wink that night. I skipped dessert.
After dinner I stumbled through a few remembered pieces from piano lessons from over 60 years long ago on the glossy black baby grand piano in the living room while Chip smiled, sipped port, and looked on with approval. For some unknown reason, perhaps a man’s innate desire to be married to a refined lady, men find real contentment listening to their wives play the piano. A portrait of a Yankee soldier stared down at us. I half expected the General to come in and join us, perhaps to enjoy an evening cigar with Chip while I played on.
The next morning I awoke early enough to see the sun rise over the pasture setting off diamonds dancing in the dewy grass. Gourmet breakfast was fresh orange juice, cheese and egg soufflé, hot apple tart, pineapple and blueberries in yogurt, fried potatoes, sausage, and English breakfast tea.
After breakfast I sat on the front porch to enjoy the bucolic view. An orange cat promptly jumped into my lap for a good petting. I seem to be attracting cats of late, an unfortunate circumstance. Her jobs were to keep the population of field mice at bay while entertaining guests, hopefully not at the same time.
We set out on the 1.5-mile nature trail through the pasture and forest. The trees were remarkably tall; one had to really crane one’s neck to see their tops. I noted they were all deciduous; no evergreens grew in the forest, and judged the trees must have been well over several hundred years old. Walking through such an old woods is a real treat and I thought of Shakespeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and imagined Oberon and Titania watching over us. I felt peace.
At home the next morning I stepped on the scales. Up three pounds. But, such a small price to pay for much-needed greatest gifts of all . . . wisdom and peace in rural Virginia.
©2019
