Well, we survived Snowpocalypse 2010 here in Charm City, and maybe the most striking thing about the weekend–aside from the 26″ of snow, at least–is how silent it’s been compared to our normal urban life. I mean that in the most literal acoustic sense. No traffic except for the snow plows, no going out aside from short trips to admire the views or excavate the car. In those bursts of activity, though, the scrape of the shovel or the drip of the melting ice actually seems amped up to 11.
We talk a lot around here about the insane weight of all the information we’re digitally consuming these days, but even a short break from the sensory assault we usually function under seems to have recharge something fundamental in my ears. Maybe “normal” is also “too much” in a way that it would pay to be more frequently mindful of independent of Mother Nature’s urgings.
Through it all, the kitten seemed unconcerned with any of the drama
unfolding just outside the window, keeping warm under a blanket with
this week’s New Yorker.
