From about mid-October or early November to mid to late March, the neighbourhood where I live is pretty much a dead zone. I mean, understandably; no one in their right mind would willingly risk prolonged exposure to -20 degree temperatures. But it’s just such a huge freaking difference between that and, for instance, what I walked past coming home today. I almost wished for maybe 3 seconds I could see well enough to take a picture or two. Which, would require that I first be able to see at all, but that’s only a minor technicality. I must have walked past at least 3 different baseball games on the way home. All pretty well on the same street, too. Kinda gave the city a little of the small town feel in a way. Which is kinda nice, considering that’s sort of the environment I spent most of my life in (millitary bases were pretty much just small towns with actual purpose for the most part). And that particular street’s usually quiet enough if you’re lucky, you could walk down it towards my place and maybe count on one hand the cars that pass by you. If it wasn’t for the fact I’m fucking starving and didn’t really feel much like standing around, I’d of just kinda hung around and listened for a few minutes. Because really, it’s the often not noticed crap like that that only confirms moving here when I did for the reasons I did turned out to be a damn good thing. Not that I need the confirmation, but it’s always nice just the same.