Snow!!
As I stepped out of the doors of Sir Branson's Phonograph Emporium into the chill air of Monday morning, I was greeted by a flurry of soft white snow. By Jove! This was my very first snow storm that I had the pleasure of walking through.
The early hour (12:30 am to be precise) of the morning meant that the slick and cold New York streets were relatively deserted, allowing me the opportunity to savour the experience. The flakes fell quite thickly, swirling and dancing around me like cotton from the thresher.
I caught the locomotive out to Jersey City and had the pleasure of seeing the mean and dirty streets of the Heights transformed into a pristine white landscape - sparkling under the yellow street lamps. As I trudged home I was thankful of the efforts of both my Grandmother and Mrs. W in locating and sending over my stout leather boots. At least an inch thick on the ground, the snow fluffed, flurried and crunched under my feet as I walked.
And while the going wasn't without peril (at least four times I was threatened with near slips on areas of icy footpath) I couldn't help but imagine what it was like for the early explorers seeing their own footprints break through fresh snow as they trekked the American landscape during their incessant march west.
I didn't meet a soul on the way home, and it felt very peaceful wandering the cold, crisp streets blanketed under fresh snow.
The early hour (12:30 am to be precise) of the morning meant that the slick and cold New York streets were relatively deserted, allowing me the opportunity to savour the experience. The flakes fell quite thickly, swirling and dancing around me like cotton from the thresher.
I caught the locomotive out to Jersey City and had the pleasure of seeing the mean and dirty streets of the Heights transformed into a pristine white landscape - sparkling under the yellow street lamps. As I trudged home I was thankful of the efforts of both my Grandmother and Mrs. W in locating and sending over my stout leather boots. At least an inch thick on the ground, the snow fluffed, flurried and crunched under my feet as I walked.
And while the going wasn't without peril (at least four times I was threatened with near slips on areas of icy footpath) I couldn't help but imagine what it was like for the early explorers seeing their own footprints break through fresh snow as they trekked the American landscape during their incessant march west.
I didn't meet a soul on the way home, and it felt very peaceful wandering the cold, crisp streets blanketed under fresh snow.
posted by Sgt M at 2:22 PM
4 Comments:
Golly, a late winter indeed! There's a chance the Orient will follow suit, with snow predicted this weekend. Huzzah! I plan to stockpile snowballs behind the bicycle shed. There's nothing more sporting that pelting an unsuspecting loved one on the head while he's collecting the post. What larks!
unsuspecting? I think not! I have hidden cartons of Natto behind the postbox, and shall respond with an artillery salvo you can`t escape from!
Sgt M, is it really -14C over there? Are icebergs floating down the river? Little brass balls tinkling on the pavement?
To be sure Sir S!
We have passed the dreaded -10 mark (but only in wind chill). Still, it is cold enough for ice and persistent snow.
Americans avoid icebergs by liberally applying salt everywhere - so no scary photos for you!
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