Is there a better way to celebrate the recent sunny spring weather than a trip to the National Mall on a Friday afternoon? Thad and I thought not, as did half of the population within a fifty mile radius of the Washington Monument, as well as the gobs of families and school groups in town for Spring Break. Why, it must be time for the Cherry Blossom Festival- and not any festival, but the 100th anniversary of the cherry tree gift from Japan. With highs pushing 80 this last week and Thad home a bit early, we figured we too would join the masses of humanity and view the spectacles that are the pink and white blossoms surrounding the Tidal Basin. (The sign toting folks dismissive of both global warming trends and the scientist who track them just needed to see my mid-March sunburn to know that climate change is no mere theory!)
After hopping off the Metro at Smithsonian Station, we were sucked in to the flow of people blossom-bound. The trees were gorgeous and definitely photo-worthy, but with amateur photographers set up roughly every three feet, I felt like every step I took was directly into someone else’s shot. We quickly decided the best option was to find an empty spot of grass along the basin and enjoy the flowers (and excellent people watching!) from a stationary position.
Watching pretty pose after pretty pose, Thad could no longer contain himself. He too wanted in on the posed photo action. It appears he may need to spend less time studying Chinese and more putting in some quality time with Tyra Banks and back episodes of America’s Next Top Model. He is definitely does not know the secret of “smizing.” (That would be “smiling with your eyes” in Tyra-talk.)
An hour of critiquing the various outfits that meandered by us (between the middle aged coupled dressed like they were straight out of a Jane Austen novel strolling along the basin to the man in the pink shirt and pink tie that I can only imagine he purposefully matched to fit with the blossom theme, there was more than enough fodder for me to keep up a E!News-worthy running commentary) we decided it was probably time to call it a day. By that point, we had not only our required floral photos, but a few additional ones of Thad, the likes of which may never have been taking before. Weaving in and out of the masses, avoiding the click of the ubiquitous cameras, we slid out of the throngs and made a break for the Foggy Bottom Station.
Between the blossoms, spring break and our recent spate of stupendous weather, DC is bursting at the seams with people. It is no understatement to say we breathed a sigh of relief as the thin door to the mo-partment closed behind us Friday night, shutting out the craziness brought on by the perfect-storm of spring-y-ness.
In Search of the End of the Sidewalk 