The Saturday following our Modo Mio/Mccs night out started out a bit earlier than I probably would have liked. But when you wake up, you wake up, and sometimes no amount of wishery will change the fact that you are conscious. It was actually just as well, because soon after I woke up Mr. Ass rang me up and asked me if I was interested in a) breakfast and b) Bartram's gardens. I said yes to both, though I really only understood the first one. Mr. Ass didn't have a place in mind, but wanted to head westerly since that was the direction of the gardens. We drove around rather aimlessly for a while before passing RX and deciding it would do nicely. It did. We sat outside. I ordered the eggs benedict-ish with smoked salmon and spinach. Mr Ass went with French Toast and scrapple. I was pleased with the meal. The potatoes were above average and the eggs were perfectly poached. I would have liked a heartier, wood smoked salmon...but no one does that, so I should just start making them for myself.
Next we went to Bartram's Garden. The drive there was further proof of how little I really know of Philadelphia. And the contrast between the historically preserved section of Garden vs. the land and neighborhoods around is - I'd say - pretty interesting and weird.
We walked around for a bit, taking note of plants and species that seemed rare or pretty.
There was a path that ran along the river. A nice idea but somehow the river seems so depressed and dirty, that it's kind of sad. Like, at one point this was a different river, a cleaner, perhaps more rushing river...and to sit and watch it flow by would have been peaceful and stirring. And now it's more like watching stagnant water and the distant flame of a chemical plant.
Or maybe I'm just a little jaded this morning.