This place of my home and heart, Williamsburg, often remembered by visitors in images of white clapboarded colonial houses surrounded by lush green boxwood under brilliant blue skies, holds a different magic in the gray quiet of winter. When the touring crowds thin, I meet my hometown again and find in her still somnolence moments that warm my soul. While all sleeps, waiting to wake in the riot of spring, I wander the empty streets and hidden gardens, conjuring times long-past, recalling happy moments of youth, hoping for the days to come.
