The Living Room
→ The stack of periodicals, the high definition, the frames, the art ←
-
The Willard Hotel
-
In the Shadow of the Obelisk
-
Great Lakes Dream
-
As a kid growing up in Michigan, the coming of winter always brought the excitement of snow and sledding, hot chocolate and roaring fireplaces, because this is in fact what happened during winter in Michigan. I grew up in Holland, which is right on the edge of Lake Michigan. In comparison to most lakes, Lake Michigan is huge—standing at its edge makes you feel like you’re looking out into an ocean, but then you realize Milwaukee’s the only thing in the distance. So, when this little weather phenomenon called lake-effect snow happens, you get absolutely dumped on with snow. And growing up, I assumed this amount of snow was normal for everyone. Anything winter or holiday related in television, film, music, cartoons, etc. suggested that snow gets piled high around this time of year in most places of the U.S.
When I briefly lived in Florida, I knew it would be an exception, but moving to D.C., I thought I’d see a return of the seasons. The springs and falls here are absolutely picturesque, and the summers are definitely hot, but I was a bit disappointed last winter when hardly any snow fell. I remember the one day we did get a few inches, 80% of the office ended up working from home, and I breezed into work on clear roadways. I was baffled.
However, Mother Nature decided to deliver this year. On Saturday, D.C. saw one of the largest snowfalls in history. The entirety of the Smithsonian closed, which hasn’t happened since 1996, 13 years ago. Today, the federal government is closed. I usually scoff at the overly reactive residents, but this snowfall was one to remember. While this wasn’t what I saw upon coming home for the holidays last year, the blizzard dressed the capital in a new way.
Since moving here, I had been hoping for a big snowfall, but always feared it’d fall on a weekday, when I’d be working in the suburbs, so by the time I’d be able to see and photograph the snow on any landmarks, or pathways, it’d be dirty, plowed or no longer freshly laid. But this time, it came perfectly timed on a Saturday, so after lunch, I packed up my cameras and lenses, finally used some of the clothes that comprise half of my wardrobe (including some flannel-lined khakis!), and ventured downtown.
The Metro had stopped all above-ground service, so the Orange line was only running on one track, which resulted in longer wait times, and some different signage.
The Smithsonian Metro stop was eerily quiet as its often one of the busiest. My car was closer to the south exit, so as I headed towards the escalators, I encountered a sight I’d never seen before.
The day was already starting to feel unnatural, post-apocalyptic and in general, like The Day After Tomorrow was actually happening. Some of the Metro employees at the top of the frozen stairs were commenting to each other, somewhat distraught in their exchange, how dangerous this was, and yet they seemed somewhat helpless.
I headed toward the mall, and saw a couple small groups of people; a group of 3 or 4 were building a snowman, another larger group of 10 or so were playing football in snow pants and bulky jackets. The Washington Monument was barely visible and in place of the U.S. Capitol was just a blank abyss of white.
Moving toward the Capitol, I traipsed through the tracks of a vehicle of which kind I couldn’t pinpoint. About halfway to the reflecting pool, a man passed me, on a pair of cross-country skiis.
When I reached the reflecting pool and, soon after, the Capitol Christmas Tree, there were a few other brave souls who chose to come out to get their photos taken in front of the tree and Capitol in a sight they surely wouldn’t be seeing again soon.
I moved along Pennsylvania Avenue, past the Newseum and up 7th St. to forage for food in Chinatown. On the gradual incline up, I came across a 4x4 truck in the sidewalk using his plow to clear the path. He chose to drive uphill and not down which bemused a fellow pedestrian and I.
One thing I’ve never seen anyone do in Michigan is use an umbrella or wrap shoes in plastic bags, but I suppose when you don’t need to worry about this kind of weather for 95% of the year, hooded ski jackets and boots are more of a novelty and less of a requirement. I did however pass a woman on Penn. Ave. who was wearing snow shoes and ski goggles which seemed a bit like overkill, but admittedly the idea of donning those items to travel down one of the nation’s most well-known streets does have some appeal.
I stopped at the relatively new Taylor Gourmet location on 5th and K to grab one of their delicious Phildelphia hoagies (6” Race Street with roasted red peppers in place of pesto on Sarcone’s freshly baked bread from Philly, Herr’s salt and vinegar chips and a Boylan’s diet cane cola fountain soda, in case you were wondering). There was one guy working behind the counter, slaving away on sandwiches for several hungry patrons. They were also serving free hot chocolate to thank customers for their business in the cold weather.
In the course of the meal, the sun had set and the city had an entirely new look, so I headed through the Chinatown Gate and back to the Mall.
On the way, I passed the Chipotle beneath the Verizon Center, which had recently closed its doors for the evening. I enjoyed the notice they left for would-be customers.
This time, the Capitol Christmas Tree was aglow and there were even fewer people gathering around it. The lights used to illuminate the Capitol’s dome added a wonderful, if eerie glow, to the entire scene as the snow blew through their paths.
As this would probably be the only time I’d ever see the nation’s capital like this, I turned around, walked through the same vehicle tracks for another mile and a half to reach the Washington Monument. One may think you’d grow old of seeing the same monuments and museums all the time; not only do you not, you also marvel at them even more in settings like this.
I walked to the platform at which its base is founded upon and was greeted with high gusts and swirling snow. There were small whirlwinds that formed around the corners, the flags were flapping madly, and the snow was drifting heavily. I was only up there for a few minutes, but by the time I headed back down, my tracks had been mostly filled in.
One of the downsides to shooting photos in the cold is the decreased power of rechargeable batteries. My SLR kept dying during spurts of photos, so I had to frequently swap its battery with my spare. When I wasn’t shooting, I kept both in my gloves, wrapped in the palm of my hands as they surely had enough juice to last a day.
I headed towards Constitution Avenue, and then shifted to Ellipse Road to see the National Christmas Tree, which is actually a bit awkward. Its posture is rather frumpy and the net of lights over it just feels lazy. That said, it’s still pretty in snow, especially when the Washington Monument looms in the distance.
I would really like to see the interior of the White House during the holidays as its decorations look drop-dead gorgeous, but realizing that’s a near impossibility at this point, I’ll settle for a few shots of its exterior blanketed in snow, silent and still.
On the block of 14th St. between New York Avenue and H St., I passed several homeless individuals, covered in layers upon layers of tarp. It was unsettling, and I didn’t know how to reconcile a sight like that with the many fortunes I’ve been given. The best I can do is ensure that I remain thankful for my surroundings and those within them, and be sure to express that gratitude to those very people.
I ended the day in Logan Circle at my watering hole of choice, ChurchKey for some beverages and food stuffs. I chatted with the bartenders and patrons and sampled a slew of brews while my iced pant cuffs melted.
The one day many were encouraged or happy to stay at home was the one day I desperately wanted to be outside, witnessing the behavior of both the blizzard and the people stuck in the middle of it. Almost everyone I came across said, “Hello!” “Good afternoon!” or “Quite the weather, huh?” or otherwise acknowledged one another’s presence as if to say, “I see you’ve decided to come out and see what this is all about, too?” While it was a Saturday, it still forced a city of constant churn, hustle and haste to slow down, stop, look and listen.
I could use more days like Saturday.
Capitol Snow
