It’s 9am Sunday morning and the city feels sleepy under the lightly falling snow. The silence is strange since it is Super Bowl Sunday. People should be hustling from one place to another. But they’re not. The snow has made everyone a little sluggish, a little slow.
This morning inspired me to wander through my neighborhood. I wanted to talk to people. I wanted to see what was happening on this Super Bowl Sunday. Stepping from the warmth of my house, I shuffled south listening to the silence that only a sky full of falling flakes can make. The city was subdued. Every sound and every color muted.
At first my lens focussed on lines and curious angles. My eyes liked the places where the snow started to gather. They moved to rocks and fences, steps and tree branches. Everything was silent and my images seemed to respond to the stillness. I found withered thistle in the neighbors yard. I cast my gaze on empty allies and lonely churches. And slowly life began to change.
Meandering toward Federal Blvd, the city seemed a little more awake. Even so, the bus stop, which normally hums with activity, silently loaded and unloaded it’s contents. The liquor slumbered behind its shuttered windows and locked door.
Down the block a lone man swished away the morning snow with a push broom. The gentle sweeping of the snow fit in perfectly. And soon others joined him, helping clear the sidewalk for morning worship. A silent lot, clearing the walkway, dressed for service.
Further along Federal, past the hushed doorways of the dispensaries and hair salons, the empty school yard rested from its weekly toil. Every piece of equipment sat silent. Every slide was empty. The playground slept under the still winter blanket.
Turning west onto the less busy side streets, a man and woman exhanged goods. I paused, simply watching. I was drawn to the scene. Eventually they turned around and noticed my camera and me staring at them. Introducing myself, my curiosity was piqued. For the next couple of minutes we talked. Quietly we shared bits about our lives as the snow continued to fall. They explained to me how they distributed food to the elderly. Rolland pulled away the tarp, opening of his trailer and showed me the food he had collected from grocery stores earlier in the week. He would spend his day dropping off donated goods to people who were struggling. It seemed fitting to meet him here. He was off the beaten path. Rolland silently worked as the snow drifted to earth around him.
Wandering the streets of Denver this morning I met half a dozen people. Some of them wanted their pictures taken. Some of them simply didn’t care and allowed me to snap off a quick shot. It was all give and take. We talked. A young man, on his way to a friends house, told me the two teams in the big game. Others chatted about the neighborhood and how it had changed. We all shared. We all listened.
Rolland however, made me think. His humble self-confidence was pure. He made me think and my mind settled into the walk back home. Again the lens found leaves clinging to trees and lonely pinecones resting on barren sidewalks.My morning of wandering drew to a close much the way it started. I turned the corner as the snow piled up and crunched beneath my shoes, and my street sat completely empty.