We’ve been spending a lot of time in Baltimore at the Wilmer Eye Institute of Johns Hopkins in the past few weeks. My hubby has a hereditary thing called “Marfan Syndrome” which among other things can affect your eyes. (Though, as this link explains, “Marfan syndrome does not affect intelligence.” This is good to know.) The Institute is one of the best places in the country, maybe the world, for eye treatment. So, although the hour-long drive is annoying, we are lucky it isn’t even further away.
The Institute HQ is located in one wing of the imposing, and impressive, historic brick Johns Hopkins Hospital building at 601 North Broadway. One of the many waiting rooms is located at the base of an octagonal dome, the walls and alcoves of which form a small museum. This is where I found myself earlier this week, with time on my hands as my husband was poked and prodded in a pre-op exam, so I tried to make the most of it.
A not particularly well lit bronze bust of Dr. Wilmer himself glowered down from high above in one alcove, flanked by some antiquated piece of eye exam equipment. In the opposite alcove was the President’s Chair, which was used by a number of POTUSes for their eye exams in the past. Historic photos of the Institute, its staff, and their scientific achievements lined the walls. A multi-shelved display case took up part of one corner, with various items of historic eye care equipment. (My favorite was the artificial leech, which was not explained there, but is here.)
Not a particularly well-curated mini-museum, with not much interpretation except for some fading, mostly handwritten labels. But, still, good for whiling away a few minutes of the tedious waiting and worrying. If you don’t mind Dr. Wilmer watching you.
The concoction was featured on Sunday, when we attended the 
Till years later, when I discovered the authentic Virginia version. Because, though Georgians also claim the stew was first created there, in my opinion the Virginia version reigns supreme.
s (as in, the neighborhood kids since we only have one) used to play in when they were younger. I never noticed, but this metal gate has the name of 
at houses
dal Basin to see the blooms. (Full disclosure, this photo is of last year’s blooms.) We began to talk about all the things that make us grumpy while walking around the Tidal Basin during Cherry Blossom Madness. These include: Photographers who set their tripods up in the middle of the walkway. Parents with double strollers hogging the sidewalk. People jogging – really, you can’t find a better place to jog than a sidewalk clogged with tourists? People walking multiple dogs. Not just one little dog, but three medium to large sized dogs. On long leashes that get tangled around people’s legs. Oblivious people taking selfies with the trees. Kids who pick blossoms off the trees for a souvenir. Okay, so there are always too many people, not enough sidewalk, and things that are going to annoy you. But, still, the cherry blossoms are gorgeous and despite it all, you have to enjoy them and share them with everyone, be they considerate or not. The blossoms remind us of everything lovely and fleeting, soft and seasonal.