My Town

Last Thursday, the weather was gorgeous and I decided to head into the city. I haven't been in a while; the various governmental and presidential shenanigans very much dimmed my interest. I was afraid that I would be reminded of the horrors transpiring in some way or another. Once I got there, I also realized that I was afraid that I would no longer feel that DC was "my town," that others had taken it over and taken it from me. Much to my delight, I saw no traces of the Orange Menace. The ATD (Average Tourist Density) was up, as one would expect this time of year. The scaffolding on the Air & Space Museum is down; the work on the redo of the Hirshhorn sculpture garden is proceeding nicely. The sun was shining, there were flowers, so far so good. I walked up to the podium that the Hirshhorn sits on and, thanks to the genius who designed it, the hustle and bustle outside ceased, it was quite, there was green lawn, flowers, and sculpture.

After restoring my soul there, I walked across to the other side of the Mall, looking at the Washington Monument at one end, the massive obelisk sent out a sense of stability in the swirling world surrounding it. I looked up at the capitol on the other end, the sun shining brilliantly on the white dome, and didn't even wince, given the inanity that goes on underneath it. Before I reached Madison Drive, I got a rush of feeling that this still was my town--I knew it; I knew how to get around in it; I knew where to find what I wanted.

 

So I went over to the National Gallery sculpture garden to find my favorite fountain had been turned on after closing (and becoming an ice rink) in winter.

And then onto the National Gallery, all decked out for Easter.

And over to another cool fountain and past the Canadian Embassy.

To my 2nd most favorite fountain at the  Navy Memorial, recently restored to full throttle.

And took the metro home. My town, not his town.