We got walloped the morning of Jan. 22. The forecasts had all predicted the white stuff would gear up after noon, but it started in earnest around 7 a.m. and blanketed the city with upwards of 8 inches some places. My commute to work was treacherous, and took me more than an hour. Part of that hour was spent idle on Rosa Parks, stuck behind a procession of cars and trucks that couldn’t get up an icy hill. People were out of their cars, pushing. I waited under an overpass (strategically, so I wouldn’t get buried in the snow that was still falling around us) until finally there was enough room between stalled cars for me to give it a go. I made it. My other option was to abandon my car, which I considered briefly. Not a great feeling.
Anyway, for as scary as it was, it really was quite beautiful. I was so excited to get Holden from his dad’s so that he and I could play in it, but he was not all that into it. “Let’s play in the snow!” I said. “And build a snowman!” He scrunched up his face. “Maybe later. I want to go inside where it’s warm.” And just like that, my 4-year-old turned 40.
Here’s a gallery of photos, taken over a couple of days.
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