The First Garden

After my gentleman friend  treated me to a stellar dinner at Le Diplomat on Friday night, I didn't think my weekend could get much better. (I am telling you, that duck breast alone lived up to the hype. Don't even get me started on the cheeses or wine or escargot.) Little did I know the surprises that Saturday had in store....

After a busy morning cooking at a local health fair, Kenton helped me schlep my farmers' market groceries back to my place, where we had a snack as we looked at the clock and speculated. It's 2pm? There's no WAY we'd have the slightest chance of getting in to see the White House garden before the final 3:30pm tour, we agreed, but on such a beautiful, sunny afternoon, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to head downtown and try our luck. Worst case scenario: we have a nice walk and maybe check out a museum (since they're open again -- hooray!).

One metrobus ride and many tourist mobs later, there we were at 3pm, gazing at the very garden that the First Lady started a handful of years ago -- around the time I set out on my bike tour, come to think of it -- and which I have been angling to check out for some time. (In my more elaborate daydreams, I imagine having tea with Michelle and swapping recipes before we peruse the brussels sprout plantings and discuss some of our favorite experiences getting kids excited about food.  Being one of the masses on the annual free public tour is only a few steps down from that, right?)

Hot peppers, swiss chard, tomatoes, artichokes, and of course the requisite Secret Service staff:

Nice work, Madam First Lady!