At the corner of every block, the puddles are growing to ankle-height depths. The once white snow is now an aged grey, dirtied by tracks and yellowed with urine. Kids are smiling, parents are masking their faces with scarves and high necks. The grumble between neighbors has come to an impaired level as a rush to the door has taken over the need to be cordial.
New York somehow shines, even when the most arctic of skins refuses to leave the house. With fogged storefront windows and snow lined doorways, the feelings of a story waiting to be told give the streets a magic that only a city like this one can communicate.
In the Midwest, the winters are dominant with ice despite the wishes for snow. A clear trap on black pavement, causing fear for those on the roads. A warm day followed by freezing temps were to be expected. The weather nearly as manic as the people enduring it.
But here, there is a sense of tranquility when the city goes white and the streets are blanketed. The anticipation is half of the fun and the reporter’s portrayal of the inches ahead leave hopeful residents dizzy with excitement, waiting for the first flake to fall.
work in progress