On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground, blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call. On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears, a soldier cleans and polishes a gun. War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten
Monday, April 23, 2012
Photos of Steve's Weekend
I was here (click to embiggen).
To see these. Of which the nice guard walking toward me let me know, "No photos allowed.
In the National Gallery Sculpture Garden there was this weird tree growing.
And then we went to see the Titanoboa at the museum next door. Some little place called the Smithsonian.
And if you ever wondered if seeing the big museums are worth it, this is the quality of the fossils the Smithsonian puts on display.
Yeah, it's worth it.
And then, you know, because you're there you have to go see the big pointy thingie.