Biggest. Snow. Fall. Ever.

This has been an amazing and beautiful couple of days. . . .

Yesterday morning, woke a little before six, just as the sky was getting a little pink behind the clouds. I'm told the lightening and thunder began at two, but I don't think I heard it before. Sitting here, at the desk on Avenue C, looking out towards the inner park, I both saw the lightening, and heard the thunder. It was very close, less than a second behind the flash. And huge. A great rolling clash of cymbals and drums. An hour later when I went to bed again, it still continued as I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke again, around ten, the thunder was gone, but the snow and wind continued till late afternoon. Joined by armies of children and a few parents. The Village plows that had operated all night made no showing during the day. The gambol was undisturbed by men with snow shovels. The parents mostly stayed on the newly tramped pathways, but it was clearly the children's joy to fall and throw themselves into the fresh fluffy stuff. Imagine being able to fall without hurting oneself!

Dusk was beautiful. The sky still a little light, and the lamps sparkling in all the white. Still lots of people rambling about, but the children had gone in (to thaw out?). By lamplight could be seen the spoils of the day: the great fields of snow trampled and pocked by footprints and seat marks and arising, where none had been before, three rather modest sized snow persons, casting shadows.

As a pure bonus, street parking rules had been suspended so I needn't go out this morning to move my car. By next Monday, the snow should have melted, and the task a breeze.

Did I say I'm loving being here? Need I say it?

N.B. ~~ trains didn't run, planes didn't fly, but Broadway did not shut down. After all, The Show Must Go On. And they did.