Prospect Park was filled with gleeful screams of kids, pink cheeks, red noses, dog muzzles dusted white, wagging tails, sleds, slides of all colors out of gamma, plastic bags improvised to glides, bright wool caps, mittens, knee-high boots, and lots of smiles and of course whole bunch of white white snow.
The trees hung heavy like pregnant @ 8 months, burdened with beautiful weight. This snowfall was different from the other 2 blizzards. Last two were too ferocious and the snow was sandy and powdery. Where as this one is soft, flaky, and moist. It lay heavy, and it packed. Everywhere you look, the snow afoot is deeper than an average knee. Yet, not a single shiver–as the mirth has spread the warmth around everyone better than a cashmere blanket.
On my way back on Eastern Parkway, I notice cars speed past still carrying a foot and a half of snow atop. All you need is a few sprinklers and a cherry or two, you got yourself a speeding sundae. Around Rogers Avenue I spot a big black woman dressed like a lady liberty, in a green wool coat, top to bottom all painted viridian green, with a can in her hand, standing in the cold, appealing to your patriotic sense and kindness. Five blocks down, by the Carmen Deli & Grocery a young Dominican man in a puff down jacket, his face and neck face bundled in thick scarf, fighting the arctic wind, hustling with with fliers of T-mobile smart phones, 'unlimited talk-text-and data plan, all for $49.99'. Business as usual. Snowstorm? Huh, New York never stops...
Monday, January 3, 2011
2nd Jan - Snowfall-III
Prospect Park was filled with gleeful screams of kids, pink cheeks, red noses, dog muzzles dusted white, wagging tails, sleds, slides of all colors out of gamma, plastic bags improvised to glides, bright wool caps, mittens, knee-high boots, and lots of smiles and of course whole bunch of white white snow.
The trees hung heavy like pregnant @ 8 months, burdened with beautiful weight. This snowfall was different from the other 2 blizzards. Last two were too ferocious and the snow was sandy and powdery. Where as this one is soft, flaky, and moist. It lay heavy, and it packed. Everywhere you look, the snow afoot is deeper than an average knee. Yet, not a single shiver–as the mirth has spread the warmth around everyone better than a cashmere blanket.
On my way back on Eastern Parkway, I notice cars speed past still carrying a foot and a half of snow atop. All you need is a few sprinklers and a cherry or two, you got yourself a speeding sundae. Around Rogers Avenue I spot a big black woman dressed like a lady liberty, in a green wool coat, top to bottom all painted viridian green, with a can in her hand, standing in the cold, appealing to your patriotic sense and kindness. Five blocks down, by the Carmen Deli & Grocery a young Dominican man in a puff down jacket, his face and neck face bundled in thick scarf, fighting the arctic wind, hustling with with fliers of T-mobile smart phones, 'unlimited talk-text-and data plan, all for $49.99'. Business as usual. Snowstorm? Huh, New York never stops...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
2.1.2011 | Two tales of a Snowstorm:
Tale:2
The snowstorm came the morning after Christmas. It raged all weekend long. It spiraled, it billowed, it howled, it flew horizontal, and it slapped you across the face. It raised like smoke from distant wild fires. It was a battalion of miniature blades with wings. It was air bullets with needle heads. It froze the tears before they fell on your cheeks. It made your feet forget who they belong to. It made them forget that they were even alive. It made your fingers blue and your lips numb. But strangely it made you more alive than alive. When the wind slowed it got gentle. It blanched the air to crisp cotton. It sashayed the bushes with white tulle. It powdered the grand oaks and cloaked the evergreens. It layered and layered, softly but single mindedly like a good love. It buried the side walks, it buried the mail boxes, it buried the bicycles tied to the lamp posts, and then the Hondas on this side of the street and the Mercedeses on the other side of the street. If you stood still long enough it buried you too. It muffled the sirens and it hushed the world. It put big smiles on the little faces that pressed against windows with tiny flashing green and red ornament lights.
By the next morning it piled up like white bears sleeping sideways one on top of the another. It covered anything and everything that was left under the sky uncovered. The world got wider with the un-dividing whiteness and unpopulated streets. It brought out the only people crazy about living the moment, the two of them, the only ones who ventured past the south side of the lake in the park that morning.
Spent on euphoria, she slept holding the red wool cap the young man she never met before that morning put on her head, covering her frost nipped ears. The single witness, a pair of black galoshes stood in a puddle of happiness next to her bed.
The snowstorm came the morning after Christmas. It raged all weekend long. It spiraled, it billowed, it howled, it flew horizontal, and it slapped you across the face. It raised like smoke from distant wild fires. It was a battalion of miniature blades with wings. It was air bullets with needle heads. It froze the tears before they fell on your cheeks. It made your feet forget who they belong to. It made them forget that they were even alive. It made your fingers blue and your lips numb. But strangely it made you more alive than alive. When the wind slowed it got gentle. It blanched the air to crisp cotton. It sashayed the bushes with white tulle. It powdered the grand oaks and cloaked the evergreens. It layered and layered, softly but single mindedly like a good love. It buried the side walks, it buried the mail boxes, it buried the bicycles tied to the lamp posts, and then the Hondas on this side of the street and the Mercedeses on the other side of the street. If you stood still long enough it buried you too. It muffled the sirens and it hushed the world. It put big smiles on the little faces that pressed against windows with tiny flashing green and red ornament lights.
By the next morning it piled up like white bears sleeping sideways one on top of the another. It covered anything and everything that was left under the sky uncovered. The world got wider with the un-dividing whiteness and unpopulated streets. It brought out the only people crazy about living the moment, the two of them, the only ones who ventured past the south side of the lake in the park that morning.
Spent on euphoria, she slept holding the red wool cap the young man she never met before that morning put on her head, covering her frost nipped ears. The single witness, a pair of black galoshes stood in a puddle of happiness next to her bed.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
1.1.2011 | Two tales of a Snowstorm
Tale:1
The snowstorm came the morning after Christmas. After howling, screeching and spiraling all night long, it piled up like a hundred white bears sleeping sideways one on top of the other. Stretching across the length and the full breadth of all open spaces, blocking and barricading doors, fences, sidewalks, streets and avenues alike.
The voice from this morning, heard after a long long time, all the way from across the oceans, hung inside her. It was reticent, yet soft and without malice. Just like the snowstorm, the day after. And that was enough.
The boulders of snow mounds stayed all week unmoved, until rain came last night. Sparrows came out after a week of hiding, chirped and took quick showers in the big icy puddles of bear shadows. The air smelled of the rain still as she took off her snow boots. Salted and stiff, they stood guard next to the unlit fireplace.
The snowstorm came the morning after Christmas. After howling, screeching and spiraling all night long, it piled up like a hundred white bears sleeping sideways one on top of the other. Stretching across the length and the full breadth of all open spaces, blocking and barricading doors, fences, sidewalks, streets and avenues alike.
The voice from this morning, heard after a long long time, all the way from across the oceans, hung inside her. It was reticent, yet soft and without malice. Just like the snowstorm, the day after. And that was enough.
The boulders of snow mounds stayed all week unmoved, until rain came last night. Sparrows came out after a week of hiding, chirped and took quick showers in the big icy puddles of bear shadows. The air smelled of the rain still as she took off her snow boots. Salted and stiff, they stood guard next to the unlit fireplace.
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