…instablogging from UD. It’s a reasonably pleasant summer day in DC, and UD’s walk will consist (maybe; she’s so wild and crazy and hip and bohemian that she could change her mind at any moment) of a metro trip to the United States Botanic Garden at the foot of the Capitol building.

Even at this late date UD remains surprised at her interest in gardens and gardening; her mother was a serious and accomplished gardener, yet UD showed zero interest in the matter during her mother’s life. She’s far from knowledgeable, having read enough books and skimmed enough magazines and clicked through enough sites to have at least gotten the measure of her own big wide shady deer-infested huge-tree-menaced landscape… I mean, she doesn’t plant anything rankly stupid, like lavender or tomato… She gets that she has a shade garden. She has even done some savvy japanese things with the front of her house, if the appreciative comments she’s gotten from passersby and neighbors are sincere. But she is aware that with her amazing amount of space (her lot is both wide and long, with forest on either side) she could do any number of showy eco water-retentive things…

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A quick walk from Judiciary Square metro to the National Mall (National Gallery of Art to your immediate right) has brought me to this walk’s announced target: the US Botanic Garden. UD power walked through the outside plantings, letting massive grasses and meticulous mosaic fountains flash by as she remembered to pump her arms and plant each heel hard.

Morticia-like UD likes black plants and already has some black liriope; ebony streamers pouring out of large planters caught her eye here as she sped through the federal government’s exhaustive efforts to plant-up the foot of the Capitol.

Inside the conservatory, UD kept up her pace despite the turtle-like tourists. Signs melded in odd ways (World Deserts Restrooms) as she motored along. She heard a mother say to her daughter And how do you find nourishment for yourself?

She powered up the metallic steps to the insanely lush jungle garden with piped in crazy bird songs. Everywhere she went, soft mists exhaled from the walls, and these made her and everyone else very happy – unexpected sprays on a hot day in a hothouse.

Now, finally seated, in the long Alhambra-style fountain room, UD finds that the mist and the new age music have her thinking she’s due for a facial.

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Okay, UD has walked from the Botanic Garden to the Navy Memorial, behind which is Teaism, where she’s enjoying the air conditioning and a ridiculous cold jasmine tea. (Tastes like nothing.) She’s now going to jump up again (after three sips) and find the closest metro. Home again, home again.

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Now au metro, UD reflects that the stylish and sweltering streets of DC in August are perfect if you’re in the market for a long sweaty non-boring walk. Lean left a tad and all of Mary Cassatt’s output pops off the walls; to the right is the delightfully trashy Newseum (even its name is trashy). And speaking of trash, if you take a few extra steps along Pennsylvania Avenue, you can check out whether Donald Trump’s begun redecorating the Old Post Office.

In re humanoids, the wide hot avenues of the capital are packed with them – four generations of Australians stumble along reading their maps and mopping their brows; a sad young woman in sensible flats tries to flag a cab; a half dozen infinitely trim government lawyers (probably) chat about the sheaves of paper in their hands.