Our snow

Once the sidewalks seemed more or less scraped, I went walkabout.

The neighbours' stairs (same house where the raccoon lives...wonder where he is?).

Congress Street.

The first of three snowploughs in convoy...

Cobble Hill Park.

There was no one else. He was just throwing snowballs for himself.

Trees like dancers in the snow.

Brownstone icing.

Bike going nowhere. But deliverymen were biking with bags of lunch for shut-ins.

The US Mail was being delivered.

And small sleds found the salted patches rough going.

Boerum Hill less scraped and consequently prettier.

New York was cold. Windchill of 12'F/-11'C. My hands hurt and my candy-striped umbrella blew inside-out.

The slate-coloured Gowanus with sleeping boats and paddling ducks. And a catalpa tree hibernating with dreams of lilac spring.

The Gowanus garden's bottle terraces smoothed into cream.

No news.

Little girl blue with cold.

Cadman Plaza, and the Korean War Veterans' park.

Brooklyn Promenade and a steel blue Manhattan.

Tugs still working on the pewter waters. Lady Liberty holding a hot water bottle.

Long walk, the latter part with stinging snow blown into awkward places between the scarf and the nose.

Now, scent of allspice, spinach and lamb melting together in a bredie; cat asleep, fridge humming; daffodils yellow on the table.