Jefferson Memorial and Cherry Blossoms.It would be an epic triathlon of galleries, monuments, and museums if one were to endeavor a whirlwind tour of DC in a day. You would be hard pressed to see it all in a week. It would take a month full of Saturdays to put a dent in the long list of historic interests the District of Columbia offers. But we chose to surmount this monumental task believing as we do that a grain of sand begins as a boulder (I know, it is a real lame analogy, but I am tired and that was the best I could come up with).
Cherry Blossom at Potomac River Tidal Basin
We began our forced march to conquer the National Mall four weeks ago at the commencement of the Cherry Blossom Festival. We have thus slogged through hundreds of years of magnificent works of art, some hanging, others standing, but all of them worthy of our time. In the National Gallery there is a paintings by Leonardo Di Vinci (the only one in the Western Hemisphere); that painting was something to behold. There were paintings by Raphael, Whistler, Degas, Monet, Van Gogh, and far more than I could or you would want me to mention. We also saw a number of the works by the Dutch Masters, and not a one of them were promoting cigars.
In the Natural History Museum we fluttered through a live butterfly enclosure that was typically tropical; by that I mean to say, it was hot and humid. Early on I had a butterfly land on my shoulder and it rode through the entire exhibit on me. It thought I smelled like a flower. Imagine that.
We walked the circular enclosure that housed Thomas Jefferson’s library, and read in the dim light the gold print on leather bound books that Lewis and Clark could have studied. One book, old and tattered, stained by years of use caught my attention. It was entitled, “Little Tommy’s Colouring Book.” (I put that in just to see if you were still with me). I asked at the information desk if I could come in and just read the morning paper in one of the grand halls of study, and the man behind the counter grinned, and said, “Just sign in.” Now I want you to close your eyes and picture me reading the morning news in the grandeur and stone pageantry of Sovereigns. Envision me picking my teeth in the finery crowned heads of Europe took for granted. I missed my calling; I should have been born in festooned pomp and regalia! Lord Alabaster of Hickey! But nay!
For those of you who are vague on some of the finer points of American history, Lee's wife's inherited property (her father's stepfather was George Washington) was confiscated by the Federal Government in 1864 due to unpaid taxes. There was in place a law that required the land owner to appear in person, and pay their taxes. At the time of the notification, Robert E. Lee apparently thought that his appearance might be a distraction to the war efforts; thus, he declined to honor the law, and he lost the family farm--plantation. It was decided that their 1,100 acre spread be appropriated for use as a Union cemetery. And so it was.
Beginning with the Lee's front yard and his wife's acclaimed rose garden, the solders in blue were laid to rest. It is also assumed that some of the battlefield bones that were collected were those of Confederate solders as well. Later, much later, as a gesture of reconciliation, Confederate solders were interred upon the property.
The Lee's never again occupied their home overlooking the Potomac.
What is unusual about this artist's painting? Give up?
How many artist do field work with their painting already
framed? And in the back of his "nearly finished work" the frame
has been papered and strung with a wire ready to be hung on
some tourists wall--what a clever fellow.
The massive sandstone pillars of the Arlington House portico.
Incidentally, the sandstone is painted stucco over brick, along with
the marble at the top.
The Lawn at Arlington with the Pentagon in the background. It made me wonder if the
Brass at the Pentagon ever looked outside their windows before they made a decision.
"Pardon me ma'am. May I take a picture of those cigarette butts
between you shoes?"
Cherry Blossom at Potomac River Tidal Basin We began our forced march to conquer the National Mall four weeks ago at the commencement of the Cherry Blossom Festival. We have thus slogged through hundreds of years of magnificent works of art, some hanging, others standing, but all of them worthy of our time. In the National Gallery there is a paintings by Leonardo Di Vinci (the only one in the Western Hemisphere); that painting was something to behold. There were paintings by Raphael, Whistler, Degas, Monet, Van Gogh, and far more than I could or you would want me to mention. We also saw a number of the works by the Dutch Masters, and not a one of them were promoting cigars.
In the Natural History Museum we fluttered through a live butterfly enclosure that was typically tropical; by that I mean to say, it was hot and humid. Early on I had a butterfly land on my shoulder and it rode through the entire exhibit on me. It thought I smelled like a flower. Imagine that.
One of the many beautiful butterflies in the exhibit.
They handed you a large illustrated card that aided in identifying what butterfly was what.
Upon leaving the Museum of Natural History, we sauntered over to the Metro and rode to Capitol Hill. Within a short walk I found myself ogling at the Fabergé egg of all of DC’s treasures. In beauty it dwarfed the Hope Diamond, it put to shame anything Tiffany had ever manufactured, and it rivaled the splendor of the Grand Canyon. What was it? It was the Grand Hall of the Library of Congress. My head was rolling from side to side, and up and down surveying the mosaic ceiling and floors. It was a massive canvas of inlaid tiles, classical style paintings, and sculptured figurines too many to mention. I was agog. 
They handed you a large illustrated card that aided in identifying what butterfly was what.We walked the circular enclosure that housed Thomas Jefferson’s library, and read in the dim light the gold print on leather bound books that Lewis and Clark could have studied. One book, old and tattered, stained by years of use caught my attention. It was entitled, “Little Tommy’s Colouring Book.” (I put that in just to see if you were still with me). I asked at the information desk if I could come in and just read the morning paper in one of the grand halls of study, and the man behind the counter grinned, and said, “Just sign in.” Now I want you to close your eyes and picture me reading the morning news in the grandeur and stone pageantry of Sovereigns. Envision me picking my teeth in the finery crowned heads of Europe took for granted. I missed my calling; I should have been born in festooned pomp and regalia! Lord Alabaster of Hickey! But nay!
Our Library of Congress (LOC)
I believe this nautical scene is of Neptune and friends
I believe this nautical scene is of Neptune and friends 
The ceiling in the MEN'S room of the LOC. It is the foyer, actually.
One of the four Saturdays was spent walking the hallowed grounds of Arlington National Cemetery. We paid our respects to JFK, Robert Kennedy, the Unknown Solider, Audie Murphy, and the Tuskeegee Air Men. We passed by a boat load of multi-starred generals, politicians, judiciaries, and scores upon scores upon scores of service personnel that fell in various conflicts. We also walked the halls of Robert E. Lee's mansion--the Arlington House.For those of you who are vague on some of the finer points of American history, Lee's wife's inherited property (her father's stepfather was George Washington) was confiscated by the Federal Government in 1864 due to unpaid taxes. There was in place a law that required the land owner to appear in person, and pay their taxes. At the time of the notification, Robert E. Lee apparently thought that his appearance might be a distraction to the war efforts; thus, he declined to honor the law, and he lost the family farm--plantation. It was decided that their 1,100 acre spread be appropriated for use as a Union cemetery. And so it was.
Beginning with the Lee's front yard and his wife's acclaimed rose garden, the solders in blue were laid to rest. It is also assumed that some of the battlefield bones that were collected were those of Confederate solders as well. Later, much later, as a gesture of reconciliation, Confederate solders were interred upon the property.
The Lee's never again occupied their home overlooking the Potomac.
What is unusual about this artist's painting? Give up?How many artist do field work with their painting already
framed? And in the back of his "nearly finished work" the frame
has been papered and strung with a wire ready to be hung on
some tourists wall--what a clever fellow.
The massive sandstone pillars of the Arlington House portico.Incidentally, the sandstone is painted stucco over brick, along with
the marble at the top.
The Lawn at Arlington with the Pentagon in the background. It made me wonder if theBrass at the Pentagon ever looked outside their windows before they made a decision.
between you shoes?"
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