Our first (Real) Snow in NYC

We got a taste of it in October. Sammy and I thought our Halloween snowfall was an early sign of what would inevitably come our way week after week. But then November came and so did the unusually temperate weather. December passed and still no signs of winter. January… same deal. And then this past Saturday it finally snowed.

We jumped out of bed, slipped into our winter garb and hopped into Central Park. Sure, it’s not the Wasatch range I once played in or the ancient mountains of Vermont, but like an 19th century Charles Parsons painting or an early photograph,  this place came to life with ice skaters, tobogganers and children all taking refuge in the expanse of a buidlingless landscape.

When your access to free space is all but gone, you take pride in what you have left. These kids and their laughter and the snowballs in their hands symbolize the same thing for the avid skier on a monumental pow day. Would these kids rather be in the Rockies? Maybe. But maybe this is their Rockies. They certainly played like it was.

Sledding is the same wind-in-your hair feeling for every generation. It’s that ‘school was called off’ feeling that riles through your system on an early snowy morning. It’s waking up earlier than usual to look out the window and see what you got. It’s something different for everyone, I suppose, but for me it’s enough to stay young again and envision mountains around me or even simpler, the sledding hill in our neighbor’s backyard on Tanglewood Drive in Southington, CT.

I know snow bothers a lot of people. It interrupts their schedules and makes their hair frizzy and tangled. It makes for treacherous roads and damp suit pants, but all of that is irrelevant in my mind. I like to think of the hot coffee I’m going to have when I come in from the cold or the sound of the snow under my boots. I think about walking into that little cafe just to get a break from the chill or watching as the snow falls on whatever it shall. I like what snow makes us do and not what it prevents us from doing. But, like all weather in the Northeast, it’s already gone and the 50-degree weather is back. Winter has yet to make her permanent mark here, but when it comes, it’ll leave the same impression on Sammy and I that it did this past weekend.

Damn scaffolding!



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