By Mark Idleman '15
Early in the afternoon on Saturday, the sky was a blank gray and the air was crisp. Flakes began to fall as I walked to the men’s soccer game, and by the time I got there, a few inches were already on the ground. The game was a mess; players were slipping and sliding everywhere, and the ball would only roll for a few feet before it picked up snow and became a snowball. By the time soccer was over, around three inches had fallen, and the large, wet flakes were still hitting my face as I walked back to my dorm. Later that night, friends and I walked out to the freshman quad to have a snowball fight. The snow was falling heavily, and the quad was silent. You could hear the creak of trees overhead as they bent under the weight of the snow. It was clear that our location wasn’t very safe. We moved to a more open patch of the quad, away from trees, and watched as branches snapped and crashed to the ground. It was chaotic, with large limbs breaking violently and falling, leaving clouds of snow in their wake. We opted to return to North and went to sleep without any power.