More urban poetry

I really like this one—early evening, and the sunset reflected in snowmelt on Park Avenue.

Urban poetry

The view from my living room a few weeks ago.

On Tuesday it was 80 degrees. Yesterday it snowed. I miss having actual seasons.

Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out

The Tenth Avenue bus yesterday. That snow bank was not as daunting as it appears in this photo; there was a path behind it for getting on and off the bus.

Snow

What I woke up to yesterday morning after a long night of blizzarding. It snowed until mid-afternoon, but fortunately we don't have the freezing temperatures we had after the last storm and it's already melting a little.

Snowmelt

I'm still here, though dealing with a leaking ceiling in my bedroom from a malfunctioning radiator in the apartment upstairs for most of the past two weeks has stretched my patience to the breaking point. I'm calling the constant plop-plop-clank into the bowls and trashcans lined up next to my bed the Hell's Kitchen water torture.

It's also drip drip drip outside as the snow is finally melting, uncovering all the treasures that were embedded in the snowcrete.

Snowcrete

That's the half-joking name for the masses of snow that have lingered for the two and half weeks since the big storm. It's been so cold—zero degrees Fahrenheit Saturday night—that the little bit of snow that that has managed to melt has quickly been refrozen into something you'd need a jackhammer to remove. If, say, you wanted to drive one of these cars on East 89th Street anytime before April.

I took the picture of the car on the right last night, and realized that I'd already taken a picture of it, a week ago. You'd have to look very closely at the two pictures to notice any difference in the amount of snow.

Urban poetry

This is something you see a lot in New York's older neighborhoods—below street level commercial spaces. This one on West 44th Street is vacant at the moment, except for the snow.

Snow in the city

Pictures from a few years ago, just to help get me in the mood. Actually I would rather have snow than the strong winds and bitter cold we've had way too much of this winter.

The monochrome months are here

Autumn arrives later and leaves earlier every year now, leaving us in what feels like endless grays and sepias.

Winter has its own beauties, but now that we seldom get snow anymore, it can definitely be monotonous. Brown, brown, brown, brown. Oh, look—gray!

Here are two pictures from Inwood Hill Park last winter, one a little filtered, one not.

Saturday reflections

I took this picture on one of my discouraging treks to the Apple store last February, on what turned out to be the only snowy day of the winter.

In the hassle of moving everything to a new laptop, this picture got overlooked.

Oops

Missed a few regular postings here—just the usual business of life, like trying to get in all the overdue doctor's appointments and new job paperwork, plus going in circles on upcoming lessons that just aren't coming together.

Spring may be a month away, but the pigeon trees are already in bloom.

But spring is coming

It's early for crocuses, but I was so happy to see them pushing their purply way through the dead brown leaves. And the bees already hard at work!

Did I mention that leaves are brown? Brown, brown, brown

Où sont les neiges hortensias d’antan?

More of the crazy chaotic winter foliage in Fort Tryon Park Tuesday.

Look around, leaves are brown...

There hasn't been a single patch of snow on the ground and the weather the past few days has been sunny and almost springlike, but it is still undeniably winter, as these remnants of last year's gardens in Fort Tryon Park yesterday can attest.

I am half-sick of shadows, said the Lady of Shalott

It is unrelentingly gray and gloomy here; winter has barely arrived and I'm already tired of it. Tuesday I had jury duty, and though I had magazines and puzzles and my Kindle, I was bored and fidgety. It was raining but I went for a walk at lunch just to get some fresh air; I stepped on what looked like a wet patch of sidewalk and found myself ankle-deep in ice water. So I spent the afternoon bored and fidgety with cold wet feet.

Here's a pleasant memory from last summer: a Saturday market in San José. I skipped an all-day beach excursion to meet up with a friend. We ate arepas and bought fruit and listened to live music and then walked around the park. It was a lovely day.

Sunday bird blogging

We all get spruced up for spring. Here are two white-throated sparrows—the one on the left was taken during the snowstorm in February; the one on the right, in full breeding colors, was taken last week.

Bonus bird blogging

I think cardinals must have some idea how beautiful they look in the snow, because there were dozens of them in the trees along the loch last Sunday.

Saturday reflections

The last of the snow pictures that don't have birds in them.

Où sont les neiges du week-end passé?

I love that these pictures might as well be in black and white but aren't.

Snow day

It snowed all Saturday night and most of yesterday morning, and I played hooky from studying long enough to make a quick trip to the park. It was magical.