I woke up this morning to a world blanketed in snow — 30 inches of it.
The silence is incredible, and has a strange way of muting me and my entire day. I made it out and took some shots with a crummy point and shoot. Downtown Annapolis looks even more charming than usual, a forgotten era, a old England on the east coast. Like a storybook, covered in snow.
As I was stumbling across my front yard, snow up to my knees, shovel-carrying men offering a clean walkway, I realized that, for all my mixed feelings about this town, I will miss it when I leave this summer. I always do. And it is always the seasons at their highest peaks that capture a place and what I will miss about it — the cicadas vibrating on a sweltering day, autumn collapsing and covering the streets, the near silence of placing my foot in two and a half feet of untouched snow.