This is my fourth winter in New York City, and it has been the worst by far.
Paul and I missed the mother of all snowstorms on December 26, but the remnants remained on the ground when we returned from Ohio in January. They haven't left; they've only been added to.
The latest blizzard (and yes, it seems like we've gotten only blizzards and never just regular old snow) arrived Wednesday morning and continued off and on until early Thursday. When I walked home from the subway Wednesday evening, I even got pummeled with kosher salt-sized hail. By the time I woke up Thursday morning, the accumulation equaled 19 inches.
|Someone got up early to clear off this sidewalk by 9 a.m.!|
Paul didn't drive to work, of course -- not only were the roads in terrible condition, but a lot of the automobiles in the neighborhood were so completely covered that it looked as if the streets were lined with snowcars instead of snowmen. Only about half of the sidewalks were clear, and I frequently had to step into piles of snow just as high as my tall rubber boots.
The "fun" isn't over. More snow is predicted for today and Saturday. In addition, several inches of snow are piled atop the tree branches, and Paul has already been smacked in the head once by a cold, wet fluff of snow.
Spring is much too far away.
|Paul draws a happy face on the front of a car.|