![]() The parks are filled with ice and puddles and not fit for squealing, running groups of children who’ve been sitting at school all day. There are no shared walks to here or there. The drudgery of pulling on boots and zipping up jackets, of slogging through slush and shivering against the wind, have become second nature. A week after the storm, what remains are iced-over mountains of detritus and soot hulking black humps punctuated by discarded rubber gloves, soda cans, flyers for discount suits and threading salons, and lost mittens of all shapes and sizes. How does the filth pile up so quickly? ![]() Then they begin to gray and then to blacken. First the piles at the sides of the streets and sidewalks fill with cigarette butts and dog shit. Here in New York, the fluffy white flakes settle down and cover everything in a sheen of pretty for about 10 hours before they begin to morph into something sinister. It is the part of winter where I realize I’ve been buried up to my eyeballs and didn’t even see it happening. The dreary days seem to stretch on as far back as I can remember and as far forward as I can see. It’s the part of the winter where the cold, gray, and ice have completely taken over everything and it feels like the sun will never show itself again. But I’m hopeful that it’s coming soon.Īs the snow tumbles down for what feels like the millionth time in the last three months, I find myself resigned to it’s inevitability. I’ve yet to see the first green tendrils pushing up through snow. This is probably not the end of hats and gloves quite yet. I’m sure there will still be some bumps and potholes on the way out. The hideous black mountains have ben reduced to hills surrounded by puddles filled with cigarette butts that are rapidly being rinsed away by the store owner’s hoses each morning. I took the kids on their scooters around the neighborhood after school. Yesterday I left the house with no hat, no gloves, and no boots! I wore sunglasses. The day has arrived when the end is in sight and you realize that we’ll get there eventually. THIS is the part of winter when hope returns. The sun has been shining on and off for the past three days. ![]() The changing of the clocks (annoying as it might be) ushered in with it a changing of the weather. I see it, both literally and figuratively. The light at the end of the seemingly never-ending tunnel of winter is visible and getting closer each day.
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