Saturday reflections

(Posted late because last night I felt like lying flat on my bed and watching television was too exhausting.)

The Church of the Holy Trinity on East 88th Street—not to be confused with Holy Trinity Church a few blocks south—as a winter afternoon slides into twilight.

What this photo lacks is the soundtrack of drip drip drip from snow melting off the eaves, which was an unpleasant reminder of what was going on at that moment in my apartment a few miles away (now apparently resolved, though I still have some painting/repair in my future.) Another blizzard is on the way, with up to two feet of snow expected. Can I just say—Yuck!

Urban poetry

(I thought I must have posted this one, but if I did I can't find it.)

A row of brownstones on the Upper East Side last August. It's very February today, gray and rainy, so this picture looks especially attractive to me. And it's no longer raining inside my apartment, so I can actually focus on other things.

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.

Welcome to the working week

Today was the first time since the big snowstorm that I woke up to temperatures in double digits (higher than -12 degrees for the Celciosi). It was a toasty 11 degrees, and it's supposed to get up just to the freezing mark later this afternoon.

It's been so cold that none of the snow from last week has melted; although the sidewalks are mostly clear and there are passages cut through the snow at intersections, there are piles of dirty snow lining every street. It's been so many years since this has been normal that I think we're all a little shellshocked.

Astronomy Tuesday

This recent image of Jupiter taken by the Juno spacecraft has had the color and texture enhanced to show off the cloud patterns, making the familiar planet look like a polished globe of some rare and priceless mineral.

Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS; Processing and License: Thomas Thomopoulos

Sunday bird blogging

We're in the middle of the latest Snowmageddon (though our part of it seems to be more sleet than snow now—I'm not going to go out to investigate) so a penguin seems appropriate. This gentoo was dancing around the whale bones at Mikkelsen Harbor.

Saturday reflections

Windows on the Upper East Side, down the street from those snowy lions.

Abstract

We haven't had much snow yet this winter, but this bus window still needs a good cleaning. With the sun shining on the glass, First Avenue was just a gritty abstract.

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 other kind of ICE

There's a big winter storm headed our way this weekend and, assuming it doesn't change course, we are supposed to get at least a foot of snow on Sunday. I'm old enough to remember when that happened multiple times every winter, and also old enough to be grateful that I don't have to be anywhere until Tuesday. (The ice in the picture was in Cierva Cove, last January.)