An Aspiring Native, Day 4.5

Jonathan asked me to do a guest post on Creasy Capers, since I am capering a Creasy, after all. So here are my impressions of our capitol to date.

DC is unique among large cities because of the strict building height requirements. Instead of the slivers of sky among metal and concrete that is typical of metropolitan areas, DC has a wide open sky, horizons glimmering with aspirations. Often Jonathan and I drive over the 11th St SE bridge at sunset, the Anacostia river a lustrous gold inlaid with battleships and bridges.

Another splendid feature of DC is the plethora of museums and galleries, most of which are free.

The Museum of Natural History is among my favorites so far, especially the gems. The vibrancy of colors and patterns that spring from the dark, lowly mines astounds me. Rocks with natural tree-like etchings, minerals with swirls of grass green, translucent towers of crystal, dazzling yellow formations, mysterious opals. These and more fill my mind to overflowing, flashes of some great unfathomable painting.

Humanity's touch beautifies this city too.

The national mall has street drummers and sax players on sunny days, and the music strokes and pulses above the murmur of voices. Laughter is a flickering solo, foreign intonations the harmony. Closer to our little neighborhood here on Pleasant St SE, the sounds of the city are much different. I hear more helicopters than birds, and the ceaseless pitch of police sirens could be likened to the absent hum of crickets.

There is a dizzying array of lines in the metro escalators that fascinates me. The escalator at our local stop almost seems to pitch forward - the vertical cracks of the walls compete with a dozen other angles; gravity itself seems confused - have I fallen down a rabbit hole?

As a wishful artist, I ache at times to portray the wonders I see here. Yet, instinctively, I know that the visions I see are too intricate to be detailed, too universal to be contained on a canvas.

One last sensation: Jonathan and I have agreed that the metro station is an odd place. The air is a bit dank and stuffy, but there is a constant wind from trains whisking by. I am reminded of a quote from my favorite author, “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” The metro hints at our path to yet unknown adventures.

~VA