On Saturday Jon and I became tourists, just a half-hour from our own home. We visited Hildene, the house of Robert Lincoln, son of Abraham Lincoln in Manchester, Vermont.
I wasn’t thinking about the leaves and it being one of the prime seasons in Vermont. But as I noticed all the cars on the road I realized that we were in the company of people who had traveled greater distances than we had to see the changing leaves and visit the historic home.
Although we’ve driven past it hundreds of times, neither of us had ever visited Hildene.
I’ve been to many historic houses in my lifetime, all over the country. There was even a point in my life when I vowed I never visit another.
But I haven’t been to one in years and never to any with Jon.
It reminded me how much I love to have a peek into the lives and homes of other people and get a feeling for the things that were important to them and how they lived.
Visiting historic homes has always felt to me like being able to walk into a dollhouse. With all the rooms set up the way they would have been when the houses were lived in. And often with personal pieces from the peoples lives.
It’s those intimate things I love to see the most. An artist’s paintbrushes, shoes in the closet, a favorite tea cup, and as in the photo above, the sewing pins and needles, used by the maids to mend clothing, in the laundry room.
Jon and I became tourists for a day in our own backyard. Makes me want to do it again next weekend.