Confession time: I'm not a big fan of snow. I'm from Florida (lest you forget), so being cold in general definitely doesn't win me over. And then, after a big snowstorm like Juno, the remnants of the storm hang out in the city for weeks on end - like the buddy who comes over to your house and then never leaves - slowly inching it's way towards unbearably disgusting by getting dirtier and dirtier in the pollution and general urban gross-ness. Finally there's the last stage of snow: the big, ugly bricks of brown icebergs, that loiter on corners and sidewalks here and there throughout the city until spring finally rolls around.
So, in a nutshell, I don't really like snow as a whole.
But there's one part of snow and ice that will always, always make my soul sing. Right in the middle of the snowstorm - before it gets too terrible to be outside, but after it starts to stick to the sidewalks - when the city goes sweetly silent. The snow muffles all the sounds of the hustle and bustle, and fluffy snowflakes stick to everyone's hats and scarves, making life feel like something out of a fairytale. And as everyone goes to bed in the middle of a snowstorm, you get the sense that the entirety of the city is curling up under a blanket with their loved ones, clutching a cup of warm tea, and snuggling in for the night. It's a very specific feeling, yes; but I felt it last night, and the happiness of it all washed over me. That's when I thought to myself, "Maybe snow isn't quite so bad."
The good news is that we had the day off to work from home (hi, leggings!). Naturally, I took the time to explore a bit, bringing Shep up onto the roof of my apartment building so the two of us could frolic together in the snow. I've been told they've done a bang-up job of clearing the snow already in Manhattan, but on my roof and in the streets of Brooklyn there are drifts over two feet high! All of it made me feel like a real-life snow bunny for the day.
Mug: Light Rust Studio / The Fresh Collective Co.