As the snow began to fall on Thursday evening, I couldn’t help but let out a squeal, the likes of which I hadn’t uttered for such weather
in years ever. I was home and warm with two essays to write, which would prevent me from wading through slush. After an evening walk through the whitened city with my dad, the snow wholly wooed me.
New York’s gritty beauty turns into a picture-postcard idyll in the snow. The grey-toned buildings get a fresh coat of white paint, the bare branches grow heavy and the pace slows down. If Christmas in New York is less than enchanting, a city snow fall makes up for it. Even the icicles dripping from fire hydrants manage a certain charm when the sun glints off of them.
Friday morning, once the snow had settled, I brave the quasi-Greenlandic temperatures to see how the city fared. While the accumulation wasn’t astonishing, enough had fallen to change the way you viewed the city for a few moments. Walking was difficult, you had to climb the mini-mountains on the street corners. People were digging their houses out of snow, lest they should need to sled down their stoop in order to leave.
Snow terrifies me not because of its cold wetness, but because of what that frigid damp substance represents. Often snow is an inconvenient commute and arriving at your destination caked in frost. When you take away the logistical negatives, there’s nothing to impede my distaste. Snow not only changes the city’s attitude, but shifts my outlook as well. Trudging through the mounds of snow and slush on the corners, I transform from a final-year university student into a little kid walking to school confident in the knowledge that I will come home and be warm.
Where will I be for the next snow? Who knows (though from the looks of, probably writing my essay). But I certainly hope that I can take a few minutes to enjoy it, before the world comes to a screeching, inconvenient halt.
Do you like snow? What’s your favorite snowy day activity?