I stayed in last night and knit, watching the snow fall from my rocking chair.
Around 1:30, I couldn’t take it any more, so I invited Rudi to accompany me on a stroll around the neighborhood.
We paused by the Moroccan embassy to take throwing practice. Rudi managed to hit three street signs. I hit none.
We then moseyed down to P Street, where a drunk (and possibly homeless) man invited us to throw snowballs at a billboard. I passed. Both Rudi and the other guy hit the billboard (it was 4′x6′) but missed the sunglasses on the bikini-clad model they were aiming for.
We wandered over the Buffalo Bridge, snapping photos and dropping snowballs into Rock Creek, and then back up to Sheridan Circle where I took off my cape, flopped on the ground and made a snow angel. In hindsight, a snow angel would probably have worn a cape, so the snow up my shirt was for naught.
Then we made little snow people on one of the benches. Rudi’s was much more professional.
We joyfully strolled home amidst the large snowflakes, now sticking to Rudi’s hat and my cape. My white fluffy scarf was coated, making it look like I was wearing a scarf made of snow.
This morning I headed over to the farmers’ market, where the meat farmers proved hardier than the veggie/dairy farmers. I came home with an armload of flowers, as well as a few other odds and ends.
Then we hiked through Rose Park down to Georgetown where we spent the afternoon shopping.
The sun shone down upon us, offering up a glittering landscape as huge clumps of melting snow dropped on our heads as we passed under the trees and cold water poured off store awnings.
We ended up with about half a foot of snow, nothing compared to my folks’ two feet. But for D.C., it was utterly beautiful.