Snow, A Giant Snowflake, and a Red Umbrella

I won't go so far as to call it a winter idyll, since the way it felt out there was far from it. It's been snowing more than I had hoped and expected, having checked the forecast last week, in the Northeast, and I really need it to clear up for the weekend so that I can go hear my mother perform Tchaikovsky. It had snowed a lot today, on and off, but I had assumed it was over. Then, I emerged from the Y about a quarter to 9 to find several more inches of snow had accumulated in the couple hours I'd spent at the gym. I walked the half-hour home in a mix of delight and anguish, enjoying the thrill of shuffling through the fluffy snow beneath my feet and cursing the weather for making my feet so cold and wet and ripping at my face with cold gushes of snowflakes. But in terms of what I'll remember, whether or not I had this journal, for years to come, I'll remember this month for all the snow days. And the silliness of New Yorkers in the snow.