Sunny Weekend at the Conservatory of Flowers and Crissy Field

Ultraviolet rays, unobstructed by cloud cover, beamed upon San Francisco this weekend. The population spilled into the streets, parks, and beaches to start triggering vitamin D synthesis in their skin. The scents of “honey-baked ham” wafted through the warm breezes, mingling with fragrant flowers and hummingbird farts. The weather made everything more positive: plants looked greener, buildings gleamed, food tasted better, and crazy hoboes looked crazier.

J, V, and I met at Japan Town for ramen. The streets nearby were closed for the Cherry Blossom Festival. The festival consisted of snacks, random merchandise, a competition between tuner cars, and martial arts displays. There were even a few trees with cherry blossoms. After lunch, we headed towards Golden Gate Park.

A biblical promenade decorated with fake flowers in the parking lot of the Uptown Church of Christ on Fillmore.

Woman walking dog.

An aging blue house.

Steps to the blue house.

The smokestacks of a BBQ.

The “Painted Ladies” on a sunny day.

Folky signs attached to a building on Fillmore.

Tuner cars on display at the Japan Town Cherry Blossom Festival.

Meats, grilling.

Wise one watches the festival between bites.

Old car, big fins.

A little tiled triangle.

V. hiking into Golden Gate Park.

A woman having trouble with an old pair of skates.

In Golden Gate Park, we decided to go to the Conservatory of Flowers. The large greenhouse and surrounding landscaping felt like utopia. People lounged on the rolling green grass between rows of colorful flowers. The building glowed bright white from atop the symmetrical hill. Admission was $5 each since we were able to convince the cashier that our bus passes were proof of residency. Otherwise, tickets would have been an extra $2.

Inside the air was hot and steamy. Jungle plants and mist surrounded us: vines, moss, orchids, carnivorous pitcher plants and more. We went through the exhibits quickly due to the heat, but it was worth the cost of entry.

The beautiful, utopian view of the Conservatory of Flowers and people lounging on the flowery lawn.

Inside the 93°F room of the orchids and carnivorous pitcher plants.

A Japanese island in miniature.

The ceiling.

The landmarks of San Francisco recreated with junk. The Transamerica Pyramid was made with old keyboards. The painted ladies were made with cereal boxes. A little train chugged along between the sights. The display delighted both young and old.

Another view.

Bananas.

Stroller parking.

A group of hackie sackers were doing graceful stunts with the sack.

Meanwhile, a grey haired woman on rollerblades was dancing to the music as another skater blew bubbles.

A church.

Old records on the street.

Afterward, we sat out on the grass with the privileged masses. Despite the breeze, we tried our best to kick the feather. We didn’t do so well, but no one seemed to be watching us. Or if they were, they did well in making us not feel self conscious of our frequent fumbles and air kicks.

We hiked into the Sunset in search of dinner. But our legs were sore and pizza would do. It was only the early hours of the evening, but it felt right to part ways and head home.

On Sunday, J. and I went on a walk through Pacific Heights and the Presidio to Crissy Field. This park by the bay is one of my favorite places in town. It’s wide open, full of plants and waterfowl, people and dogs, and excellent views of the city, Golden Gate Bridge, and the bay. Plus, the Warming Hut Cafe makes excellent food and coffee.

The view of the Marina and bay as seen from Fillmore and Broadway.

Dreary home amongst regal mansions in Pacific Heights.

A private driveway gives Lombard St. a run for its money.

The steps near the Presidio.

Walking throughout the Letterman Industrial Complex.

Old building.

A small power station.

Abandoned buildings with the Palace of Fine Arts in the background.

A reflection of the Golden Gate Bridge in the tidal marsh.

Man waiting for fish at the pier near Crissy Field.

Three seals were prowling beneath the pier, possibly stealing bait from the fishing lines.

The fake Roman architecture of the Palace of Fine Arts.

The lake.

Ducklings!

Presidio Theater on Chestnut.

Two motel signs on Lombard.

Pink building and cherry blossoms.

J. and I ate lunch on the seawall. Everyone and their child/dog was out. Instead of going to some apartment open houses that afternoon, we decided to hang out longer, get some coffee, and kick the feather. The weather was just too nice to worry about getting somewhere on time, especially if it meant being indoors.

Unfortunately, my legs feel like two useless logs today. The feather shall remain blameless.