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Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Snow Day!

There is a snow storm coming. I remember when I used to love snow storms. They used to mean snow days and snow tunnels. I remember when my dad used to plow the snow up really high, and my sister and I would work all day digging out rooms (each with very specific purpose), making them just big enough for us to sit comfortably and admire our hard work. Then we went inside from exhaustion, with our red cheeks and noses for hot chocolate. Sometimes the houses turned into forts, and enemy forces (boys) in the other bunker would feel the wrath of our iced snowballs. But mostly it was a simple lesson in how satisfying building something with both our hands and our imaginations can be. Now that I am older I tend to forget that lesson, and I definitely don't enjoy the cold like i used to.

The last snow storm we had I was listening to George Winston, a pianist that I used to love as a kid. He composed the music to one of my favorite winter movies "The Snowman". It's is a silent movie with the most beautiful soundtrack. In seventh grade, My dad got tickets for me and a friend to go see George Winston in concert in Hartford, which I though was awesome enough (i know weird for a 12 yr old). When we tried to get autographs, we were declined despite our cuteness, but not defeated. My father snuck us around to the back of the building and in through the stage door. We ran onto the stage to meet George and we didn't take "No" for an answer. We went home with our autographs and a great sense of accomplishment.

My dad was good for breaking the rules. When he was young he couldn't afford art school, so he used to sneak into the drawing classes at Uconn. He got kicked out repeatedly, but due to his persistence and passion, he became an artist.
The snow flakes, dancing to the sound of the piano sparked up memories, and motivated me to go out and shoot. I didn't really care about the results, as I did the experience. The silence of the snow falling, the emptiness of the beaches, the child-like sense of adventure; to be the first footsteps in the snow, were all so refreshing. Normally I would walk down the beach, but today just seemed to good to keep to myself. I left the snow and the beach without footsteps, without a trace of me being there, so someone else could see the beauty, and feel that same sense of discovery.

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