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Feb. 14th, 2007 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhIt didn't snow very much; we didn't get much more than an inch, at most. It's been doing a bit of an off-and-on thing for the last few hours, so I suppose we might end up with a little more, though I don't expect much. Not that I'm surprised. Weather never seems to turn out as dramatically as the forecasts predict.
I haven't been in snow- actual snow, which has accumulated on the ground- for a long time, since Thanksgiving of '05, I think. It's funny how you forget little things, but which seem so familiar as soon as you experience them again. Like how walking in snow feels like walking in sand, that slight give and sink when you step into it, and the small extra effort it takes to step up and out, as compared to solid ground. Or the appropriate hop-skip-goose step motion for getting over the snow piled and plowed along curbs and at street corners.
Today I have discovered that my boots have a hole in the sole, which I'd known, actually, but had not realized how far it had penetrated; I'd thought they were still waterproof. This is the third pair of boots New York has destroyed in six months! Also, tiny children who don't even come up to your waist are nonetheless capable of having a powerful impact, in they happen to slam into you while escaping from snowballs.
The snow's very pretty. It's already turned to brown slush in the streets, but on roofs and balconies and in fenced gardens, it's still pure white. The sky has that low, solid quality where there's no way to distinguish one cloud from another or even tell where the sun is, every inch of it the same polished, shallow color. Grace Church, which is a lovely, small gothic-looking building built of stone, complete with flying buttresses and a tall, pointed spire, had the thinnest layer of snow along its ledges and the upper protrusions of the bigger squares of stone, like an outline to emphasize its distinctiveness from the gray sky and more modern buildings. Union Square was like some holiday postcard, all the plain, severe colors and look of winter: the black, straight line of trees and bare branches and the deep, wet green of the dome and rails of the subway station, above the flat, undisturbed blanket of snow, set off from the streets and traffic on all sides.
I'd walk up to Central Park, just to see it today, if I didn't have (another) paper to write for tomorrow. So, it's probably better if I stay in this warm coffeeshop, crowded with discarded scarves and coats and snow-melt bootprints on the wooden floor. Besides, it's Valentine's Day! I should stay here and tell you all how much I love you, and that you should have silly cards and chocolates and whatever else you like.
ETA: 'pdjskhdfhj what the hell, LJ; it took me five hours to be able to post this. Five hours which I have definitely not spent writing that paper. I fully expect free time or icons or something from this.
I haven't been in snow- actual snow, which has accumulated on the ground- for a long time, since Thanksgiving of '05, I think. It's funny how you forget little things, but which seem so familiar as soon as you experience them again. Like how walking in snow feels like walking in sand, that slight give and sink when you step into it, and the small extra effort it takes to step up and out, as compared to solid ground. Or the appropriate hop-skip-goose step motion for getting over the snow piled and plowed along curbs and at street corners.
Today I have discovered that my boots have a hole in the sole, which I'd known, actually, but had not realized how far it had penetrated; I'd thought they were still waterproof. This is the third pair of boots New York has destroyed in six months! Also, tiny children who don't even come up to your waist are nonetheless capable of having a powerful impact, in they happen to slam into you while escaping from snowballs.
The snow's very pretty. It's already turned to brown slush in the streets, but on roofs and balconies and in fenced gardens, it's still pure white. The sky has that low, solid quality where there's no way to distinguish one cloud from another or even tell where the sun is, every inch of it the same polished, shallow color. Grace Church, which is a lovely, small gothic-looking building built of stone, complete with flying buttresses and a tall, pointed spire, had the thinnest layer of snow along its ledges and the upper protrusions of the bigger squares of stone, like an outline to emphasize its distinctiveness from the gray sky and more modern buildings. Union Square was like some holiday postcard, all the plain, severe colors and look of winter: the black, straight line of trees and bare branches and the deep, wet green of the dome and rails of the subway station, above the flat, undisturbed blanket of snow, set off from the streets and traffic on all sides.
I'd walk up to Central Park, just to see it today, if I didn't have (another) paper to write for tomorrow. So, it's probably better if I stay in this warm coffeeshop, crowded with discarded scarves and coats and snow-melt bootprints on the wooden floor. Besides, it's Valentine's Day! I should stay here and tell you all how much I love you, and that you should have silly cards and chocolates and whatever else you like.
ETA: 'pdjskhdfhj what the hell, LJ; it took me five hours to be able to post this. Five hours which I have definitely not spent writing that paper. I fully expect free time or icons or something from this.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 12:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-15 11:28 pm (UTC)