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It is a sometimes-realized dream to go to Colonial Williamsburg during the winter. I think that I came to this understanding after experiencing the place during the summer (it's hot and humid in this part of the country, and if anyone's going to Williamsburg, they're probably doing it at this time), plus the fact that I like cold weather. I'd like to say that I make it each year but I don't.

Part of the dream is to hit it on a day when it snows. One of the few folks sharing my inn this time noted that she has been going to Williamsburg 2-3 times a year (from West Virginia) since 1974 and had never encountered snow. Until this time.

I was ill prepared for this trip. I've been living with flu (and, perhaps, pneumonia) for a few weeks now, and the week before I left (on a Friday) I felt I had to work a full day because I had the opportunity for a week's worth of very rare training. The result of this was not only did I not get the rest I needed but didn't have the energy to plan anything. But I lucked into a couple good choices, anyway.

Snow was predicted for that weekend even before I left. I pondered for days whether to rent a car (my usual mode of Williamsburg transportation) or take the train. As the certainty of snow increased, I leaned toward the train. My only hesitation had been that I've traveled there via train twice before, and it is boring. It would be one thing if it took the scheduled three hours, but the five hours of this trip is more typical. On the plus side, if airplanes could be as comfortable as Business Class on an Amtrak train, then the airlines would go out of business. You can almost make a seat into a bed, and still not disturb the person sitting in back of you!

The train eventually did arrive, and I wearily (due to my physical condition) hoisted my backpack and computer onto my shoulders and set off for wherever I was to check in. Aiming for the Visitor Center, I almost didn't recognize it when I reached it, because there wasn't anyone there! Oh, my goodness. I'm used to busloads and crowds of folks. I was directed to the fancy hotel that handles Colonial Housing (I don't know why I thought this might have changed), and trekked another half-mile to that.

My room (four-poster bed and a fireplace) was the reason I scheduled my trip for that weekend. It was not available earlier in the week when I'd planned to make the trip. I settled in, and reached the prone stillness I had been seeking, as I finished the incredibly exciting thriller I'd begun reading on the trian—Darkness Under Heaven (by J.F. Chase), a China-based thriller that absolutely nails the Chinese nature. There are a lot of bodies on the ground by the time this one ends and—who knows, I'm not saying—maybe a world war or two. In addition to the truly remarkable understanding of the Chinese people, Chase's man-woman dialog and resulting relationship is top-notch.

No snow yet, and I made a reservation for dinner at Shield's Tavern, the only inn open during winter months. That was terrific (but reading a Kindle by a single candle light is challenging), and I retired with one of the DVDs I'd purchased at the Visitor Center (they have a small collection of 1940s stuff). It was late, so I didn't summon the requisite Housekeeper to light my fire. Hmmm. That sounds more interesting than it was.

That night, the snow began and it fell all day Saturday. Absolutely gorgeous, of course. I had worn the only boot-like shoes I own, and they took me around the neighborhood where I eventually learned that most Colonial Williamsburg folks had not come to work, and that the inn would not be serving lunch or dinner that day, no one having come to work to prepare them. OK. Fortunately, Colonial Williamsburg is across the street from the College of William and Mary, so there is enough "young pressure" to have coffee-shop-type places open, and I had a good meal at Aroma's. And back for the next 1940s movie. Still snowing. I had checked, and no other businesses (including the movie theater) had opened that day and evening). Didn't bother with Housekeeping, again that evening, knowing that no one would be there.

Next day, full sun and a deeply snow-covered wonderland from the 18th century. I walked around taking more pictures, and had a fine lunch at the now-open tavern. These are hefty meals, so I decided not to book a dinner (which I ended up having at the coffee shop), and found a nice collection of BBC drama DVDs at the college bookstore. Settled into my room early enough to justify a call to Housekeeping but, alas, no one answered. Oh, well. Next year (or whenever). So, Rosemary, Thyme, and I spent a few hours together before I fell asleep.

Walking (first, to check out, then to the train station) was tough, as the snow had by this time been replaced by sheets of ice (it warming enough during daylight hours to melt the top snow), but I gave myself plenty of time. I needn't have bothered, because the train ended up being an hour late arriving (from Newport News). But choosing the Monday over a more normal Sunday return had been a lucky choice. Joining me waiting for the train were the would-be passengers from Saturday and Sunday, when the train had not run at all!

So, all in all a fine trip. An adventure, truly. The rare, rare snowfall on Williamsburg balanced the inconveniences of disrupted or non-existent business services, and I won't soon forget that three-night stay.

By the way, I'm writing this as the next Mid-Atlantic storm dumps several inches on Virginia.

Williamsburg snow photographs