Metropolis: Lifting Spirits

Last week, on what promised to be the first of warm spring days in the northeast, my husband and I decided on a whim to spend the weekend in Washington, DC.

Checking online, I was excited to find that the Cherry Blossom Festival was scheduled for that very weekend; I had never managed to catch the sight of the over 3,000 ornamental cherry trees encircling the Tidal Basin in bloom. Alas, after my brief elation, the latest updates were indicating that recent cold weather would probably hold the blooms back a week. I found myself internally willing a couple of ‘sunny in the 60s’ days to make up for the lingering chill. I would wait for tomorrow; better yet, I would wait for tomorrow afternoon, giving the blossoms plenty of time to soak up the sun.

We spent the next (bright and warm!) morning at an exhibit of exquisite 16^th century drawings, had a quick lunch, and decided it was the moment of truth: We would head to the Tidal Basin and see for ourselves whether the cherry blossoms were blooming. I stubbornly maintained the image in my head of endless bowers of willowy white and pink flowers swaying gently in the warm breeze.

On our way to the Tidal Basin we emerged through the regal elms lining the Mall smack into the sounds of laughter from a festival I didn’t even know existed: The Blossom Kite Festival. Up and down the Mall were hundreds of people, young and old, brandishing every color and kind of kite imaginable. There were small traditional diamond kites alongside six-sided Japanese fighters large enough to lift a camera; there were silk kites, paper kites, plastic kites, box kites, stunt kites, triple layer pirate ship kites, sled kites, delta kites, dragon kites and dragonfly kites, beautiful kites, funny kites, scary kites, butterfly kites, compound kites, parafoil kites, and a Bob Marley kite. Somehow, with as many kites as there were, no two were the same. And whether their kite was airborne or not, everyone was having a blast.

We strolled through the festival, laughter on our lips, craning our necks to watch the shapes and flight patterns that stretched as far as the Washington Monument.

Save one stalwart early bloomer, the cherry trees were not in bloom– but it didn’t matter much. I was reminded that the joy or fulfillment we seek will sometimes be found not where we are ardently focusing our search, but in the unexpected places, if we only allow ourselves to look up for just a moment.

Next time, I may catch the cherry trees in full bloom. But, just in case, I think I'll bring a kite.