Forty-Eight Hours in the District.

The autumn weekend possesses a certain kind of magic;
Simultaneously invigorating and restorative. 

This one was no different.

Cold mornings, oats and coffee on the roof amidst a garden of terra cotta pots. 

A hike on trails lined with crumbly leaves, overlooking the river. 

A green-lawned winery, reds, whites, sunshine soaking into my face. 

Dinner at a Langston Hughes themed restaurant. 

S'mores over the gas stove and a documentary

Two nights of good sleep. 

Marathoners at mile sixteen. 

Monuments, memorials. 


Row houses with window boxes. 

Eastern Market: Free samples of pears, hummus, apples and chips. 

Ice cream with a cousin. 

Natural history, Pegmatite. 

An rushed goodbye due to impatient public transportation. 

Airplane pretzels. 

The flight from Baltimore to Atlanta, listening to Goose & Fox, sleepily filing away the emanations of these past forty eight hours: brick, siena confetti-leaves, red wine, love, autumn's chill, the feelings brought forth by Autumn Weekend Magic.