grass, or not

No grass on the National Mall

Even after a year in D.C. I still love heading down to the National Mall on a sunny afternoon. The wide lawn is the gathering spot for tourists and summer festivals, and even before the summer starts it's showing the effects of those who have gathered so far.

Last summer, they had the grassy center of the Mall roped off. I wonder if there's any way to actually keep the grass growing through the summer and allow the hordes to walk on it?

kites, kites, everywhere kites

Another catch-up post...

One of the first nice days of the spring neatly coincided with an event I'd been looking forward to having nice weather for. The Smithsonian Kite Festival happened the same weekend the cherry blossoms first popped out. There was no excuse not to head to the Mall to take it all in, so that's what we did.

The Kite festival had actual competitive kite builders and kite fliers, but the competition's relatively tiny space was hemmed in by thousands of amateurs who had flocked to the Mall for the chance to show off their own kite-flying skills, or at least felt compelled to buy a cheap plastic kite to add to the critical mass. There were plenty of bargain-bin kites, but there were also plenty of intricately-designed models to draw the eye.

For example, there was a dragon kite with 88 hand-made individual kites making up the tail. There were sport kites that seemed to fly free of their strings. And there were odd-shaped kites, such as the Panda bear that couldn't quite get up off the ground. (He was a sad panda.)

After a while we wandered south to check out the iconic cherry blossoms. What we found, mostly, was a ton of tourists lining the paths seven-deep to get photos and trample the cherry trees. Snapping a few obligatory pics was enough for us.

Back to the Mall, where the fest was wrapping up. Then the remainder of the day was spent enjoying the sunshine.

wild stuff

On the road trip, we generally dealt with near- or below-freezing temperatures. In fact, in Illinois I managed to get in my first snow sledding for many, many years.

Back in D.C., the last few days have required a bit of a mental adjustment. I've thrown on a jacket before leaving the house, only to find myself far too warm. It's been near 70 degrees here, which has given the air an odd feel, like the city can't quite decide which season it's in.

I decided to take advantage of the balminess yesterday and headed off for a run through the park, my first in far too long - the last time I went running, there were still leaves on the trees.

This summer, one of my favorite features of our location was the park. The forested trails were cut off from the city, a quick escape into a different kind of world. With the leaves gone, so was the illusion. Houses jutted out just a few yards away, no longer hidden away. The belt of parkland was revealed to be much narrower than my mind had assumed those months ago when I repeatedly found myself lost as I was still trying to figure out the D.C. streets.

big city life

I suppose it should be expected, but we didn't expect it to happen there.

We were just trying to take advantage of the nice weather Saturday afternoon. A drive through the park, then a stop to walk around and actually be in the weather. On our return, the car had either gained a dent or lost some structural integrity.

There weren't more than 12 cars in a lot with spaces for 50. Our space was in the midst of the few cars, nothing attention-grabbing about it. But someone decided their car also needed to occupy a piece of the space, the same spot our left rear corner was occupying.

Someone else walking along told us they'd seen the hit; they believed the man in the offending car was teaching his partner to drive. They'd told him a note would be left. Of course, it wasn't.

They managed to push our car well out of the center of the space. Other than losing a few cubic inches off our bumper's profile, there appears to be no real damage. Our new Glacier National Park bumper sticker, however, was torn and obscured. Insult, no injury.

signs

I'm battling to get into the jogging habit. (Sure, it might not be the best activity for me, but it's an activity, and it's one I think I can realistically do consistently. I'm still trying to find an Ultimate Frisbee or softball team to join, but until then, I've got to work with my brain and do what I can.) I had it for a while when I first got to D.C., then a number of trips (not least two weeks in Montana) broke any schedule I once had.

This week I've tried to start again. My first day I made the same mistake I always do when starting - run too fast at the start, nearly collapse from exhaustion five minutes in.
Yesterday, though, I managed to strike a more leisurely pace, one I could maintain for about 45 minutes. For more than another hour, I fought the urge to walk by forcing myself into a few short bouts of running. But after I lost my stamina, the afternoon mostly became about trying to walk the line between getting lost in a new part of town and keeping my bearing enough to return home. Part of me always hopes to get lost, just to figure out the challenge, but I also would just as soon be able to get back to the apartment within an hour of deciding it's time to head on back.

Most of my runs start in the finger of Rock Creek Park behind the apartment. It's easy to get lost in here; there's a number of named trails, but the signage is often lacking. It'll point you on your way, then the trail will pop out of the woods at a street intersection, with no indication of which way to go. It usually takes me at least a couple of tries to figure out where a trail goes once I decide to take it.

I've noticed a general problem with signs across D.C., at least outside of the National Mall area. Bus stops often list fares from at least two increases ago - if someone hadn't told me, I'd have had no idea I needed to get more change ready the first time a bus arrived. The road network to get out of downtown to Virginia is also less informative than I would like; until you've tried a route once, you have no idea just what lane you're required to be in to arrive where you want to go, or even where a particular road will end up.

But in the park, I mind the lack of information less galling. Getting lost is part of the attraction. Yesterday was no real exception - the signs lasted a bit longer than usual, but I still found myself taking random turns on sidewalks after the trail suddenly seemed to disappear.

I hadn't run west yet; I was pleased to find myself at the Potomac River and with the option of taking either one of a pair of trails I'd run into before, at a different spot. I've started to map out some longer routes in my head. Perhaps it'll come in handy if I ever get my bike fixed.