2800 miles, 13 states, 17 days

Yup. That's the approximate sum total of my winter vacation travels. I grossly underestimated on the mileage, by the way, so as not to be accused of exaggeration. It's definitely more, especially since I drove around in the places I stopped (Cville, Otown), but I forgot to try and log it on my odometer so we'll all have to do with the estimate from mapquest.

Aren't you even a little impressed? That's a heck of a lot of driving. And you know what's really weird? I enjoyed it. I listened to at least 50% of my CD collection (and I own a lot of music, folks) and caught up with some friends, and relaxed. There's just something about driving that soothes me, maybe because you are forced to do nothing. You can't pay your bills, you can't do your laundry, or grocery shop...long drives are a great excuse to just escape from the rest of the world.

On my way back to Boston I came by way of Harrisburg, PA (Hi Tracy and Mark and Drew!), and as I drove from PA to MA I travelled through the mountains. After some sort of ice or snow storm. Atop one mountain that was virtually unpopulated save for the highway itself, I found myself in a complete land of ice. No snow, just ice. At first I thought it had snowed, because the day was so bright and shiny that the sunlight reflected off the ice and made it seem white, but upon closer observation everything...and I do mean everything... was encased in ice. What was truly amazing about the whole thing was that each single blade of grass had a case of ice around it. Each bud on each tiny branch had a case of ice around it. I'm not sure how this happens, such an intricate layer of ice around every small item, but it was breathtaking. The trees were bent down to the ground - not broken but simply bent - and it was as if I was in some amazing glass art exhibit. It reminded me of part of the Robert Frost poem "Birches:"

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

The trees I saw weren't birches but some sort of evergreen, but it was just as beautiful. I love the last line of the excerpt: "You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen." It applied so well to my mountain top because you felt on top of the world, all by yourself, and if any piece of heaven had fallen, you felt it would land right there. I love Robert Frost.

Now that I'm back from vacation, I'm adjusting to the snow and ice again. As a warning to any people new to Boston: don't trust the brown snow. No, it's not what you think. Get your mind out of the gutter. I've grown up around snow, we used to get just the right amount most years in Charlottesville, but I guess I never noticed the brown snow before. Last year I had several mishaps with it, and I've had my first one this year just this weekend. Here's the brown snow warning:

Brown snow is that slushy stuff that can be very tricky when trying to pick your way around a mess of snow and puddles while walking in the city. Sometimes it is a big pile, and it looks like it is solid enough to step on, and you step on it only to find it is floating on top of a deep puddle and now your foot is all wet. Somtimes, on the other hand, it is a very thin layer, also floating on top of a deep puddle, but because of it's texture it looks very similar to the texture of the asphault and you think it's solid road, step on it, and now your foot is all wet. Either way, the brown snow is EVIL. Pure evil. Avoid it at all costs. Keep your wits about you folks, the brown snow may have come up with new ways to trick you this year that I have not yet discovered. If I happen to come across any more of these diabolical plots, I'll let you know.

(What am I saying? There's a reason why people call me Krashworth. Of Course I'm going to come across the diabolical plots of the brown snow. And after I come home and change my socks and shoes, I'll make sure to let you know.)

Well, I suppose I should get back to the process of organizing the Things I Need To Do This Week. And unpacking and such. Stay warm, listen to good music, and if you need a break from reality, go for a long drive, preferably to the top of an ice-covered mountain. Trust me, it's a good time.