I escaped from work at one to join John, my New York buddy, Carol and her daughter Allison who now lives and works in DC, for lunch at a favorite restaurant, Zaytinya's. It's at Gallery Place, on 9th across the street from the National Portrait Gallery. Refreshed and replenished, we made our way downtown to the Mall where crowds milled about walking, trailing after kids, pushing babies carriages, lunching and lounging on blankets, and biking. From the sky, they probably look like a million ants scurrying about. We were the ants with the determined march to the south east and the Tidal Basin.
The weather today could not have been more perfect -- little humidity, high 70's temperature and a light, but fresh breeze. As we closed in on the basin the crowds became throngs and started closing in around us. But we pushed on, taking deep breaths as we scooted around the unending picture taking. We even joined in.
As we continued to make our way around the basin past the boat dock, Carol reminded us about how few people there were when, a few years ago, we came for our walk at 8 in the morning as the sun peaked out above the trees. We heartily agreed that our timing was not the best, although the weather was. Both Allison and I were reaching our "people pushing limit".
We'd been walking an hour when we finally settled on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial to give our legs a rest and discuss our options to avoid some of the crowds. Carol, always at the ready, pulled out her handy visitor map. Allison circled all the metro stops within striking distance and we analyzed each as if the president had ordered the most effective and efficient decision from our little team. There was certainly enough brain power, degrees and analysis experience among us for the job.
And succeed we did -- we stood, adjusted sun glasses, knapsacks and shoulder bags and set off down the granite Jeffersonian steps. We strode around to the backside of the basin to where the path divides -- one fork going to the Roosevelt Memorial at the basin's edge and rimmed with cherry trees and the other fork going to a sidewalk, with fewer cherry trees, along the Potomac. Our decision was confirmed correct as we turned left and found ourselves pleasantly almost alone. Well, at least there were fewer fellow walkers to contend with as we walked north to the Memorial Bridge that butts up again the Lincoln Memorial. We could hear each other talk so we had a find time chatting about the origins of polo which, I believe, is still played in that area occasionally.
By the time we reached the bridge, John declared a rest stop in the shadow of the great bronzed and gleaming lion that guards, with his brother, the entrance to the bridge. John wiped his sweaty brow and cleaned his sun glasses while Allison and I did a few leg stretches and Carol mused about sweets with a grin on her face. In minutes, we were walking again into the setting sun with the Custis home in view, headed toward the Metro stop in front of the Arlington Cemetery.
We're home now. Windows are wide open. Breezes continue to blow freshly as the sun sets leaving a pink sky, a sailor's delight, behind. John sleeps on the couch, recuperating from our venture around the Tidal Basin. Tom Jefferson continues to overlook the visitors taking in the blossoms in the evening air. A petal snow falls lightly now and then. The special time will be over in just a few days.
The weather today could not have been more perfect -- little humidity, high 70's temperature and a light, but fresh breeze. As we closed in on the basin the crowds became throngs and started closing in around us. But we pushed on, taking deep breaths as we scooted around the unending picture taking. We even joined in.
As we continued to make our way around the basin past the boat dock, Carol reminded us about how few people there were when, a few years ago, we came for our walk at 8 in the morning as the sun peaked out above the trees. We heartily agreed that our timing was not the best, although the weather was. Both Allison and I were reaching our "people pushing limit".
We'd been walking an hour when we finally settled on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial to give our legs a rest and discuss our options to avoid some of the crowds. Carol, always at the ready, pulled out her handy visitor map. Allison circled all the metro stops within striking distance and we analyzed each as if the president had ordered the most effective and efficient decision from our little team. There was certainly enough brain power, degrees and analysis experience among us for the job.
And succeed we did -- we stood, adjusted sun glasses, knapsacks and shoulder bags and set off down the granite Jeffersonian steps. We strode around to the backside of the basin to where the path divides -- one fork going to the Roosevelt Memorial at the basin's edge and rimmed with cherry trees and the other fork going to a sidewalk, with fewer cherry trees, along the Potomac. Our decision was confirmed correct as we turned left and found ourselves pleasantly almost alone. Well, at least there were fewer fellow walkers to contend with as we walked north to the Memorial Bridge that butts up again the Lincoln Memorial. We could hear each other talk so we had a find time chatting about the origins of polo which, I believe, is still played in that area occasionally.
By the time we reached the bridge, John declared a rest stop in the shadow of the great bronzed and gleaming lion that guards, with his brother, the entrance to the bridge. John wiped his sweaty brow and cleaned his sun glasses while Allison and I did a few leg stretches and Carol mused about sweets with a grin on her face. In minutes, we were walking again into the setting sun with the Custis home in view, headed toward the Metro stop in front of the Arlington Cemetery.
We're home now. Windows are wide open. Breezes continue to blow freshly as the sun sets leaving a pink sky, a sailor's delight, behind. John sleeps on the couch, recuperating from our venture around the Tidal Basin. Tom Jefferson continues to overlook the visitors taking in the blossoms in the evening air. A petal snow falls lightly now and then. The special time will be over in just a few days.
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