I think we forget how rare it is to feel wonder as an adult. I had never been to Washington, D.C. before. I had heard about the monuments, the museums, the photos people take standing in front of something important. But I didn’t realize how much I’d actually enjoy it—or how much I’d want to come back before I even left. Maybe it’s the weight of history on every corner or the fact that the museums are free and endlessly full of wonder. First visit, definitely not the last.
This post isn’t a travel guide. It’s more like a walk through what caught my eye at the Natural History Museum. What made me stop and stare a little longer than I expected.
We only spent a morning at the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, and it was absolutely packed. It felt like we accidentally joined 14 different school field trips at once. The place was crawling with kids in matching t-shirts—color-coded by school or maybe by how loud they were. Chaperones looked like they’d seen some things.
It was loud, overstimulating, and somehow still amazing.
Hall of Geology, Gems, and Minerals
I didn’t expect to get completely pulled in by the Hall of Geology, Gems, and Minerals. Room after room of shimmering, glowing, perfectly jagged things—some huge, some tiny, all older than anything I could wrap my head around. I was whispering “what is THAT” every three feet. Ancient and delicate at the same time.
Lepidolite: The kind of mineral that feels like it’s wearing a mood ring.
Lepidolite
This one stopped me for no reason other than it felt… soft? Like a rock that wants to be a watercolor painting. Mica layers flaking off just enough to catch the light. It looked like it would crumble if I exhaled too hard, and I kind of loved that.
Blue Topaz: Loud, shiny, and fully aware of it.
Blue Topaz
Absolutely electric. It didn’t just catch the light—it threw it back. This topaz looked unreal, like someone dropped a glacier into the middle of a gemstone display. Zero subtlety, and I respect that.
Fluorite: Unreal symmetry. Nature flexing its math muscles.
Fluorite
These cubes were too perfect. Like Minecraft but grown in a cave. Soft lilac coloring and crystal-clear edges—stacked up like a dream someone had about geometry. This one made me wish I could touch it, even though I definitely shouldn’t.
Banded Calcite: Like staring into a planet’s core. Or a really patient cake.
Banded Calcite
This one felt ancient. Like it holds a map or a story we’re not supposed to know yet. The banding looked almost painted on—creamy whites and warm browns layered so evenly it felt fake (but it’s not). I stood here longer than I meant to.
Iron Meteorites: Old as hell. Made of stars. Cooler than whatever was trending on Earth that year.
Iron Meteorites
Two slices of space. Ancient, heavy, cracked open and polished smooth. Just sitting there like it’s no big deal. I loved how unassuming they were—like the coolest part of the exhibit wasn’t trying to get your attention at all.
Variscite: Like a forest and a motherboard had a love child on another planet.
Variscite
This one looks like a cross-section of an alien circuit board. Bright, electric green webbed with tan veins—like someone tried to map a jungle planet’s nervous system and got distracted halfway through.
Calcite: Mushroom? Mountain? Ice cream from another dimension? Yes
Calcite
Shaped like a frozen mushroom or a crystal volcano mid-eruption, this one had such strong otherworldly energy. It looked soft and sharp at the same time—like a growth from an alien cave system, or something deep-sea that made its way to land.
Celestite: A geode that accidentally swallowed a constellation
Celestite
Literal stardust vibes. This deep blue geode looked like it cracked open to reveal a piece of the night sky. It glowed from within in a way that felt... quiet. Like holding a frozen galaxy.
Elbaite Tourmaline on Albite: Like a moment between chaos and structure. A galaxy mid-thought.
Elbaite Tourmaline on Albite
It reminded me of a nebula. Those long crystals rising out of a seafoam base felt like a still image of space dust forming stars. Something about the colors—deep red, green, pale blue—felt more galactic than earthly.
Apparently I’m a person who takes 80 photos of rocks now.
No regrets.
The Lion of Merelani
(Green Tsavorite Garnet)
Tucked inside a dark display case, this gem looked like it had its own orbit. The light show it cast on the walls made the whole space feel less like a museum and more like the inside of a galaxy.
This was my favorite shot of the day—maybe ever. There was something about how still it was, and how much movement it still managed to hold. Like the light was doing all the talking. Like the gem was just… letting it happen.
THE LION OF MERELANI: Found in Tanzania. Displayed like it owns the place. Rightfully so.
Logan Sapphire
The Logan Sapphire
423 carats of deep-blue royalty, surrounded by 20 diamonds and still managing to feel understated (somehow?). It’s apparently one of the largest faceted blue sapphires in the world—and it looks it.
Hope Diamond
The Hope Diamond
Donated in 1958 by New York jeweler Harry Winston, who literally mailed it to the Smithsonian in a plain brown box (with $2.44 in postage and $1 million in insurance). It’s been on display ever since—and is one of the most visited museum objects in the world.
I didn’t know what the Hope Diamond was. Just walked right up to it, took a couple photos, and thought, “that’s pretty.” Later, I found out it's literally one of the most famous gemstones in the world. Supposedly cursed. Steeped in drama. Originally mined in India, cut and worn by French royalty, and stolen during the French Revolution. It reappeared in London, recut again, and passed through a handful of cursed-looking lives before landing with Henry Philip Hope, which is where it got its name (nope, not named for the emotion). It's 45.52 carats, a deep, almost stormy blue, and—fun fact—it glows red under UV light.
I like rocks.
As I admired shimmering tourmaline, ancient meteorites, and sparkling quartz, I kept hearing one thing in my head: Cam Patterson on Kill Tony, saying “I like rocks.”
👉 Watch the clip — it’s a hilarious and lives rent free in my brain.
But seriously, I do like rocks.
Cam Patterson on Kill Tony
We saw other parts of the museum—some bones, a few bugs, the ocean exhibit—but the gem and mineral hall was the one that pulled me in and didn’t let go. It’s where I slowed down. Where my camera came alive. Where everything felt a little like space and a little like magic.
I didn’t expect to feel so much in rooms full of rocks. But there’s something about seeing the Earth’s insides on display—its colors, patterns, fractures, and shine—that made everything feel a little bigger. A little older. A little quieter. Some of these minerals looked like galaxies. Some looked like bones. Some didn’t even look real. But every single one reminded me that this planet is still making beautiful things, even in the dark.
Even under pressure.
I left with that oddly comforting feeling of being very small.