December 6, 2003
Nor'Easter
I’m honestly loving life. Not sure why, but snow always makes me feel like a little boy all over again. It started coming down hard about 3 PM, so after a little rice for supper and a few beers, I figured it was time to go wander about Newport snapping pics.
The first picture is looking up the street I’m staying on towards some old church. The next is the same church from the side. One of the things I really liked about the pictures I took last night was snapping pics without flash. The snow reflects streetlights really well, making a lot of ambient light, and some stunning pictures. Notice the streaks from the headlights/taillights from the car going past.
I thought this was a pretty neat juxtaposition - bike near the mailboxes. The snow here in New England tends to be pretty sticky, especially early and late in the winter. The first pic is the bike w/o flash, second is bike with flash. Pictures with the flash tend to be extremely sparkly, and only capture objects within about 15 feet.
The next one is looking down towards the harbor, past what I think is Trinity Episcopal Church, where George Washington went a few times, and where ADM Oliver Hazard Perry was baptized. Freaky.
This dude was out in the middle of the night making a buck taking Christmas card pics for the shopowners. He didn’t object to my snapping a picture of him.
Like I mentioned, there’s something magical about snow like no other weather. It’s extremely reflective, so when it’s snowing at night, the air seems to glow regardless of the amount of light available. It also is extremely absorbent of sound when it’s fresh, before gravity and melting begins to compact it, so walking while it’s snowing is pretty surreal, provided the wind isn’t blowing. There is little silence in the world like the silence of new-fallen snow. Even in Newport, a pretty well developed area, it’s stunning. Most of the cars are off the road, and there’s no sound except for wind and snowflakes hitting my hood. In the woods it’s even eerier, with the added surprise of the occasional CRACK of a branch giving way under the weight of the snow.
This place seemed cool to me - bronze statue of some old guy out front. Then I caught the sign saying what it was. And how old it was. I’m not in Texas any more…
Yeah. That’s 1747. As in 260 years old. As in there had been people here long enough in 1747 to set up an art museum.
OK, one last one that I really liked: Breakfast.
