I was standing around the corner of my cabin gazing into the white thickness that surrounded the summer cabins. The visibility couldn’t have been more than 100 yards, yet there was something intriguing about the mystery that encircled me. I felt the massive quarter sized snowflakes drift down and slowly melt on my face. I truly was in my element and never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, my solace had a rude awakening after hearing shouts from my other Binnacle brothers. They were engaged in a snowball fight for the ages. This was not just a snowball fight for fun; it was a snowball fight for cabin pride—South Hall and Binnacle. Throughout the entire fight I was drawn to the magical nature occurring around me. I had seen snow before, but not like this. It was the comforting kind of snow that demands appreciation. The extraordinary sight aside, I knew I had an obligation to assist my mates. I strapped on my winter boots and put on my snow goggles and I disappeared into the snowy woods. Thus the epic battle continued and seemed to last a lifetime.
One of the strangest moments during the battle occurred when I was in woods taking cover. I recognized every tree around me, and it made me feel more secure. Knowing the land more intimately instills a stronger sense of place in my opinion. When I am at home in Washington DC, I always feel rushed and disconnected to the land. I feel connected to the wonderful architecture, but not the land on which it resides. Now that I think about it, it isn’t a shock to me that I could identify the trees, but at the time it was a new feeling for me—one that I will always cherish. Thanks Rhan!!
The snowball fight lasted a few hours, and it was pretty even between the two sides. I remember one attempt I made on their leader was thwarted after I failed to remember the baseball background of another South Hall member. Normally, after getting nailed by a snowball I would get angry and hunt down the culprit, but I felt different after this instance and I actually enjoyed it. I was able to fall in the blanket of snow on the ground and lie there for what seemed an eternity. Eventually the battle ended and all eight of us warriors gathered to head up to dinner. There was no winner, no loser—only eight friends establishing bonds in the midst of supreme natural beauty. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for, but I couldn’t care less, because the only thing that mattered to me was the new friendships I had made.
-Collin Knauss, Washington, DC