Walking in a winter wonderland

I felt like I woke up in a snow globe this morning. A blanket of powder whiteness covered the sidewalks and parked cars on the street. The streets were quieter than normal, the snow falling from the sky created a stillness in the air. Mesmerized by the occupation of frozen water demonstrating the principle of gravity, I stood staring out the window like a small child peering into a giant toy story. Wide-eyed with a grin on my face, I thought to myself, "I can't believe I'm living where it snows!" Coming from San Diego, I know I am blessed to live in a place where I can go to the beach in less than ten minutes. But here, the beauty of living in a city with a climate that allows such performances by Mother Nature, has began to sink in. Though the nearest sandy beach is a good three hour drive or so, I am not tempted to make the homage towards my once addicted ecosystem. Don't get me wrong, I still love the beach, I just am captivated by the difference in weather and surroundings in D.C. as opposed to San Diego.

This morning, as i got ready to go Downtown for my interview with the Online Editor of the Washingtonian, I was a little skeptical of my attire. I knew that snow made the air temp slightly warmer, but I was more worried about my shoes. I knew the possibility of sporadic ice skating would occur, but I wanted to limit my chances. At the same time, I didn't want my feet to become soaking wet from the slush I would have to endure as the day wore on, and the trampled snow melted from pedestrians, cars and salt. I decided to blend fashion and function together and go with my black scrunchy , high heel boots I had purchased from Target back home. I knew they would keep my toes warm and dry but I would just have to make sure I didn't drag my feet which might lead to an epileptic pirouette.

Walking to Union Station, the snow was coming down moderately like powdered sugar being sifted on a plate full of french toast. With every step, I just became more and more amazed that I live in such a beautiful setting. The snow would set in my eyelashes, on my nose and on my lips, my tongue savoring the fresh tasteless flakes like truffles. To some who live in areas like Vermont or Minnesota, my ecstatic and overzealous reaction my appear quite odd, and some people could even call me silly. I mean I've seen snow, I played in two feet of it before I left when a storm had dumped it on Mt. Laguna. But it is living in it, commuting in it (though I heard the metro encounters some problems and driving sucks) but its just different.