The Future of Orchids

I've always found February to be a rather grim month. Even though all that January snow melted and the days are getting longer, the skies seem perpetually gray and the sun is still low on the horizon.  

Fortunately, the Smithsonian Gardens have come through with an exhibit, The Future of Orchids, that will lift the spirit while we wait for spring. Presented in the Kogod Courtyard at the National Portrait Gallery and the Smithsonian American Art Museum, this display of 350 plants includes both spectacular live varieties and more fanciful imagined ones, the work of Baltimore-based artist Phaan Howng. With apologies to the curators, I'll admit that I didn't spend much time on my visit reading the signage; I was simply too dazzled by the orchids (both real and faux) themselves.

I love this courtyard, a wonderful respite from the hustle and bustle of the neighborhood.  There's a cafe if you want a bite to eat, but if you brown bag it, or bring in something from other eateries, no one seems to care. Whenever I go, there's always a toddler or two eager to be set free from their strollers, small groups of colleagues engaged in discussion, and plenty of singles -- eating, reading or just enjoying a moment of peace.

The day I was there last week, there were preparations underway for some kind of evening event but the setting was still serene and welcoming.  Those who have visited the British Museum in London will note that this is the work of the same architect, Norman Foster.

The orchids are on display until April 28th. The building is open daily from 11:30 am to 7:00 pm.  As always, admission is free.

And a few more orchids......

Falling Leaves

 

At a recent online meeting, the icebreaker question was "what is your favorite thing about fall?" There were shoutouts to hayrides and apple picking, football and Halloween candy.  My favorite? Hands down, it's the changing of the leaves and the riot of oranges, yellows, and reds that grace my neighborhood.

We are well past peak fall color here in DC so we've now turned to the raking portion of the season. When I was a kid, I was always looking for somewhere to hide when my dad pressed us kids into action to deal with our big front and back lawns.

Thankfully, the yard at my house is a fraction of the size of that at my childhood home. Plus the city vacuums up leaves left at the curb and while there are many kinks in that system, it certainly beats having to bag them.  

The garden crews that people hire to de-leaf their lawns almost exclusively use blowers to get the job done. Last year, a new ordinance was passed banning gas-powered blowers, in part because they use fossil fuels and pollute our air. But they are also incredibly noisy, something I didn't quite get until I was working from home during the height of the pandemic.

However, enforcement seems weak.  Unlike the parking cops who troll the neighborhood looking for cars that have outstayed their welcome, the key mechanism to get rid of the gas-powered machines is for neighbors to submit a complaint online. You need a lot of information to do so and it's not clear what kind of followup is done. The garden crews definitely prefer the older equipment which has greater power and gets the job done faster.

As with all things political, the neighbors seem quite content to voice their opinions with yard signs. 

As for me, I remain solidly on team rake and have the blisters to prove it.  In fact, I'd better get off the computer and go tackle the yard.

Lawn Garnish

Years ago, in the days before children and other commitments, my husband and I took a lot of long bike rides in the country where I was always charmed and intrigued by the yards we would pass by and the extensive array of things determined appropriate for the front lawn.  

There were the inevitable wishing wells and lawn jockeys, the kissing Dutch children in their wooden shoes, the bloomered backsides of grandmas weeding, the geese wearing bonnets, and cartoon characters including Wiley Coyote in hot pursuit of the Road Runner, Roger Rabbit, and Bugs Bunny, and even the California Raisins. I always thought this was an American thing, that is, until on a trip to the Aeolian Islands off the coast of Sicily, I noted that Snow White and the seven dwarves seemed to be favorite features in the locals' gardens.

My snapshots could never really capture the charm of lawn ornaments (nor was I willing to venture very close to get the best photo). I thought I should venture forth some day with a better camera and create a coffee table book of these bits of ornamentation. But of course, I never did. In the digital world of today, this would be a good topic for Instagram but again, this seems like a much bigger commitment than I am willing to make.

My fascination with what I affectionately call lawn garnish never abated though nor apparently people's desire to decorate their yards with all manner of humorous tableaux. And while the DC variety tends to be on the smaller side (as befits the smaller yards), my fellow Washingtonians are clearly up to the task. Here's the latest of what I've seen on my walks over the past few months.

There's a whole other category of art created in alleyways and along back fences, but that is a subject for another day.

Dog Days

We've gotten to the point in the DC summer when honestly, we're all exhausted. It hasn't been an exceptionally hot summer (particularly in comparison to the one they've had in Phoenix or Houston) but with the exception of a brief reprieve on Saturday, the temperatures have been consistently in the 90s and the high humidity just saps the life out of you. The midwinter dreams of gardening have been dashed -- the first crop of zinnias that I started indoors never really took to the outdoors and the second crop is small and growing mildewed. The six black eyed Susan plants that I scored for free off the neighborhood listserv are shriveled and pathetic. By contrast, the two cucumber (or maybe melon) plants that grew out of the compost pile are running amok with tons of flowers and no fruit. Thank goodness I did not plant zucchini because I'd surely be sick of it by now. (Zucchini bread is no savior -- a loaf only requires one modest sized squash plus who wants to crank the oven to 350 for an hour in August.) And the only thing that keeps the lawn looking nice is keeping it clipped so the weeds and grass are all the same height.

I grew up in the land of kudzu, a fast-growing invasive vine that some folks claim you can hear growing. In this neck of the woods, the most impressive invader is the American burnweed (pictured above next to the blue recycling can). It starts out small and when you turn your back, it shoots up three or four feet.  Fortunately its roots are shallow so they are easy to pull -- a good thing because another one will be along soon enough.

Apples have started making an appearance at the farmer's market and I'm betting that the nursery is chockful of mums.  Even so, fall still seems like a long way off. Until then, I'm cranking the AC, pouring a long tall cold one, and yes, making another salad for dinner.  Sigh.

Tudor Place

Washington has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to tourist sites. The monuments and memorials, the Smithsonian museums, the Capitol, and the White House can keep you busy for a weeklong visit. Next there is the second tier of places to see:  Arlington Cemetery, Mount Vernon, Great Falls, and myriad other museums off the Mall such as the Phillips Collection, Hillwood, and the Kreeger. 

And then there's Tudor Place, one of dozens of historic sites that, in the Michelin Guide parlance, is probably not "worth the detour" but maybe "worth a stop." This historic home, which occupies almost a full city block in Georgetown (with an entrance on 31st Street between Q and R Streets), was designed for Martha and Robert Peter by William Thornton, an amateur architect who won the first design competition for the U.S. Capitol. Mrs. Peter was the granddaughter of Martha Washington and the house's furnishings include many items from Mount Vernon.  It stayed in the family until 1983 when the last Mr. Peter died, after having set up a foundation to keep the property intact and open to visitors.

The mansion houses a somewhat eclectic collection of furniture, artwork, china, crystal and other items that date from the Federalist period to mid 20th century. Plus there are the grounds with formal gardens, a garage with a Pierce Arrow roadster, and an expansive lawn that once allowed the residents to see all the way to the busy port on the Potomac (trees and other buildings now impede that view). The guided tour nods to the site's original residents -- members of the Piscataway/Nacotchtank tribes -- and is forthright about its slaveholding past although offers few details on the lives of the dozens of enslaved people who lived there. The narrative mostly focuses on details of the Peter family's history, especially Britannia Peter Kennon, who lived from 1815 to 1911, many of those years onsite. There are colorful anecdotes about the explosion of the USS Princeton in 1843, Confederate cousins playing spy, and use of the property by Union officers during the Civil War.

I wouldn't drop everything to book your visit, but if your wanderings take you to Georgetown to shop, stroll, or dine, consider adding Tudor Place to your itinerary.  

Smell-o-vision

Seems like a lot of those gadgets featured in futuristic shows like The Jetsons are now just a part of our everyday lives. Camera phones? Check.  Electric cars? Check. An electronic assistant to play your music, make your shopping list, and eavesdrop on all your conversations? Check (well, not for me but you know what I mean).  

But as far as I know, smell-o-vision still doesn't exist or if it does, it hasn't reached the mass market.  So you'll just have to imagine the sweet fragrance of these lilacs. Heavenly! But catch it quick -- it won't last for long.

Dirt Under My Nails

As much as I enjoyed living in Paris, I really did miss having a private outdoor space.  I don't need a big lawn or an elaborate garden, just a little patch of green where I can have my coffee, read a book, or just be.  And while I liked the charm and ease of window box gardening, I missed the progression of daffodils to peonies to roses, picking fresh basil for pesto, and the satisfaction you get from putting your hands in the dirt.

Between having some very responsible tenants and a good property management firm, we've returned to a house that's in great shape.  The yard?  Not so much.  Despite semi annual cleanups by pros, our little lawn has gone from 90 percent grass to 90 percent weeds, and the ivy and bindweed are threatening to take over everything, that is, if the mini volunteer maple trees don't do it first.  And though the task of weeding and trimming and keeping nature at bay can be both physically taxing and emotionally draining, I don't mind getting a little dirt under my nails.   It's too late in the season for any real changes but still time enough for cut zinnias and a batch of pesto.

I think there are a few stray patches of grass in this lawn although the violets are clearly winning.