Yes, I know — I’ve already been downtown to see the cherry blossoms this year, and I really thought I was done with them. Our whole family trekked downtown March 18 to see the early-blooming trees and soak up the festive atmosphere. It was fun and we had a great time, but the day itself was gray and dismal. No sun. No warmth. Though I liked a few of my photos, most were pretty uninspired. Just lackluster.
At the last minute I was able to switch a day off work and ventured downtown again on Friday. At 80 degrees and sunny, the tourists had gotten the memo: get into the city now to see the trees — or forever hold your peace. Saturday and Sunday were predicted to be rainy, wet and ugly, so that Friday marked the last hurrah. (Of course, it didn’t really go down that way . . . but that’s what we all thought.)
The photographic results? Much better this time. It’s amazing what some blue sky can do. Everyone was milling about the Tidal Basin with their iPhones, cameras and tripods, and I was handed a camera (or phone) three times to take pictures for others while admiring the folks on paddle boats and sipping Diet Coke. Mom and I took our Canons out like the intrepid photogs we are, and not even broken Metro escalators, crowds and excessive heat could hold us down.
It was so hot that I actually got sunburned, then spent the rest of the weekend feeling simultaneously hot and cold when the temperatures dropped again. Spence and I went to Fredericksburg, Va., to celebrate our second anniversary on Saturday (yay!), and I was the weirdo bundled in a jacket with a red-hot burn across her face and chest. It was, like, 60 degrees and raining. I probably looked like a wayward, disheveled spring-breaker thrown really, really off course.
Regardless, it was fun.
And I obviously took a liking to the umbrellas popping up in the crowd. They added some drama.
And now you won’t have to hear me go on and on about a bunch of pink trees anymore.
You know . . . until next spring.