Snowfalls, like the one we had recently, provide the rare experience of a quiet world. The first day that snow covered my neighborhood, I received the gift of a few hours of absolute stillness unmarred by traffic or other city sounds.  No cars traveled down our street. The only noise I heard was the shriek of a child walking by. Otherwise, complete silence.

Outdoor noise isn’t the only element that interferes with quiet. “The Joy of Quiet,” an article by Pico Iyer in the New York Times cites a growing trend of setting aside time to escape from telephones, email, newspapers, Facebook and other distractions.

Iyer says he retreats to a monastery several times a year to free himself from the news of the world and find peace and quiet. (Years ago, I had a brief, but thrilling conversation with him over one of his books and his then-girlfriend.)

I’m not the only one who benefits from silence. One organization, http://onesquareinch.org/about/ One Square Inch, A Sanctuary for Silence at Olympic National Park, has found “the quietest place in the United States” in the Hoh Rain Forest. The group expects that ”if a loud noise, such as the passing of an aircraft, can impact many square miles, then a natural place, if maintained in a 100 percent noise-free condition, will also impact many square miles around it.”

My husband and I find quiet — broken only by the occasional airplane — in rural areas, Winthrop, Washington being one of our favorites.  My husband still recalls the sound of snowflakes settling on the shoulder of his parka while cross-country skiing.

Silence isn’t for everyone.  While eating dinner in the Duck Brand restaurant in Winthrop, we overheard a child complaining to his mother, “It’s too dark and quiet here. I can’t sleep.”

Ann Oxrieder has lived in Bellevue for 35 years. She retired after 25 years as an administrator in the Bellevue School District and now blogs about retirement at http://stillalife.wordpress.com/.