I went to The Mount again today, but I was only there for about an hour. My exhaustion, both physical and emotional, finally caught up with me. By the time I ate lunch, I was drained and needed to lie down. Thankfully, my hotel is just next door to The Mount, so I was able to return without issue. Nevertheless, the time I had there was lovely. I got some more excellent pictures of the grounds.
I also found Edith Wharton's greenhouse, which still houses plants. I did not see this place on my previous visit in 2016, so this was a treat.
I also took some great pictures inside The Mount.
I found it hilarious that Edith's recipe for Christmas pudding called for two glasses of brandy!
It's also worth noting that Laura Bush, our former first lady and former librarian, is the Honorary Chair of the National Committee for The Mount. Hillary Clinton helped kick-start the restoration campaign in the 1990's, but Laura Bush made The Mount one of her causes during her husband's tenure as president (we won't re-live that mess right now), and she has apparently remained a part of it. Both she and President Bush are listed on the committee. I thought Bush was not exactly a great president (although that Nazi Gorilla we currently have in the White House makes Bush look like FDR), but I do respect he and Laura playing a large role in the restoration and upkeep of The Mount.
I took a nap, talked to my mom for a long time, and overall just chilled out. I also explored the Seven Hills Inn's grounds, which are lovely but also illustrate (in some ways comically) the levels of ridiculousness I've encountered on this trip.
Take, for instance, the little library in the lobby. They have a number of books to choose from, including a first edition of Scarlett: The Sequel to Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind.
How appropriate, I thought. Of course they would have the blasphemous abomination of a sequel rather than the original novel. And how symbolic of this trip. Not quite quality, with the good stuff just out of reach.
Likewise, the pool is "closed for maintenance." I brought a bathing suit for no good reason, apparently.
The grounds are lovely, though, and I think that's because this hotel is basically on the same grounds as The Mount.
The interior is very pretty as well, and I think back in the day the hotel did have a restaurant. Now, they charge $16 for breakfast brunch. (Thank God I brought Pop Tarts!)
Later, I returned to The Mount for the Shakespeare and Company's production of Taming of the Shrew, which was performed outside at The Mount. I arrived over an hour before the show so I could walk the grounds one last time. I felt very emotional and kept thinking about how Edith must have felt here. She loved this house so much, but her marriage was toxic and she had to move after her divorce. I thought about the stress and sadness that must have inspired her to write such brilliant yet depressing novels. Her writing has stayed with me all of these years, particularly parts of her work I have turned to since my father's death.
I find myself returning often to this passage from her autobiography, A Backward Glance, that describes her own father's death (Edith was 19 when her dad died):
That autumn we went to Venice and Florence, and it must have been then that he gave me Stones of Venice and Walks in Florence, and gently lent himself to my whim of following step by step Ruskin's arbitrary itineraries. But probably even this mild sight-seeing was beyond his strength, for I do not recall many walks with him; and by the time we returned to Cannes he had grown distinctly worse, and failed slowly during the winter. He died there in the early spring, suddenly stricken by paralysis; and I am still haunted by the look in his dear blue eyes, which had followed me so tenderly for nineteen years, and now tried to convey the goodbye messages he could not speak. Twice in my life I have been at the death-bed of someone I dearly loved, who has vainly tried to say a last word to me; and I doubt if life holds a subtler anguish (851, Library of America edition).I read that passage many times during my own dad's decline and in the weeks after his death. There's so much emotion in her writing, and I identify strongly with her feelings here.
I only point this out because while strolling the grounds of her house--that she designed herself and paid for with money she made herself from her writing--I felt a strong connection. I grew most somber and kept thinking about the passage above, among many other pieces of her writing.
I took some final pictures of the grounds before viewing the play. There was a storm brewing, which suited the emotions I felt:
The play was the first disappointment of the evening. The set looked most over the top, but I wanted to give it a chance.
The actors all looked like they were in college, and the acting was beyond over the top. They kept collapsing on the ground while screaming their lines--trying way, way, way too hard to be funny. There were a few parts that made me grin slightly, but for the most part the style was not for me.
When I returned to my hotel, I very naively ordered a pizza again from Papa Johns. It's actually the only place that delivers food in this whole town, so I felt stuck. I told the guy on the phone at least four times that I was in LENOX, not Pittfield, but LENOX. He said okay. After about 30-35 minutes, I received a call from the pizza guy saying he had driven to...Pittsfield. I was furious and said that I told them many times which town I was in. The delivery guy said I must have made a mistake and that I needed to call the store, not him. I said that was his responsibility and I thought this was ridiculous. Well, the little asshole hung up on me. That was the final straw. I called the store and raised Cain, insisting that I would not pay for this pizza. The woman on the phone agreed with me and sent me a fresh pizza free of charge. When I told her about the delivery guy hanging up on me, she said that "he will not be working for the rest of the evening."
It took about half an hour, but I finally got my damn pizza a few minutes before 9:00 pm--more than an hour after I ordered my food. The one silver lining is I caught the cartoon Beauty and the Beast on TV just when it started.
I planned this trip with the purpose of having just a few days to myself. What I got was a whole lot of unnecessary stress and fiascoes. Seeing The Mount and Hilary Hahn were wonderful, but I feel like a need a vacation to recover from the stress of this vacation! I return home tomorrow, so I thankfully have the weekend to recover. And my beloved Grantchester returns on Sunday night; like the rest of this trip, however, it too is fraught with disappointment: this season will be the last one with James Norton. To quote Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, "Never a break."
I have a terrible headache, but I'm going to watch Beauty and the Beast and take a hot shower. At least my pizza was free.
