Blizzard of the Century

The huge downfall of snow was not a surprise. Weather folk had been forecasting it for a week. But — when it hit, the city was enthralled.

Manhattan in the snow is timeless. It is so quiet. At first, it is difficult to drive, so the streets are virtually free of cars and taxis. Even buses are a rarity.

That dearth of modern conveyances doesn’t last for a long time, but enough to fool you into thinking you’re in 18th Century New York city. With its hazy mist of snowflakes, it almost looks — and feels — Sepia.

Is Sepia a feeling?

I like to think of it as being in Color Code White.

The atmosphere in the city was joyous, almost comical. I suspect because this is the kind of event that equalizes us.

Snow does not bring bad news and suffering. Yes, of course, there were some mishaps, but very few.

In a world where the talk of war is permeating — and inevitable — how very lovely it was to take the time to just experience the snow. 

It forces us to be in the Moment.