Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Another Blizzard

The snow began to fall downtown about one o'clock on Friday afternoon. I walked out of Second Story Books and saw a few flurries. By the time I had walked a few blocks, they were thicker, and they were quite thick by the time I got home. A truck was salting the side lane at Connecticut and K even before the snow fell. Workers were salting the walks beside apartment buildings here and there.

On Saturday afternoon, after I had cleared the walks, they looked like this

for about an inch more had fallen while I cleared the porches, the walks around the house, and so on.

This morning, 17th St. NW at Shepherd looked like this

Long ago it struck me that this is the way of snows: the beginning is beautiful, the end dreary. And everything just takes longer, which is hardly noticeable at first, but eventually tedious.

However, Friday through Tuesday were on the whole quite enjoyable. We had dinner with neighbors three consecutive nights, the last at our house. We took walks in the neighborhood, talked with neighbors, and watched their children play in the snow. We remembered to admire the alley onto Argyle Terrace that friends had shoveled out. We did without newspapers Saturday through Monday, yet somehow didn't manage to read that much more in books.


  1. There's that lovely silence that heavily falling snow brings. Everything becomes muffled. For half a day at least everything is different.

    1. Indeed. The snow brought automotive traffic in Washington nearly to a standstill for a couple of days. While out clearing snow, I heard a knocking sound from some trees. I think that this was just branches striking each other as the wind moved them, and that I noticed it only because all the other sound that would muffle it were gone.

    2. A heavy snow always takes me back to childhood. I recall walking around my yard in York County, VA after a heavy snow, looking in wonder at a landscape transformed amid the utter silence. Every time it has snowed since then, I get the same feeling. Perhaps a bit less raw wonder, but wonder is still at the heart of it. I don't imagine I will ever stop enjoying the freshly fallen snow.