New York City, March 3, 2015

★ The early morning sunlight and the memory of the past day’s thaw raised brief and false hopes. The day-old slush was still in the side street, but the the dampness only made the cold colder. The chill hurt the nose inside and out. A woman passed wearing a furry coat so ratty one had to hope no real animals had died for it. In midafternoon little flakes came down, followed soon by bigger and more numerous ones, pulses of snow crossing against the pinholes of the sunshades. By twilight little ice pellets were falling, bouncing with dry clicks off the parka or dropping straight down into the pockets. Someone in the warm-lit interior of a store looked out and made eye contact, with a smile of pity or sympathy. People tottered along on the ice crust. One winced; one laughed. Uptown ice was becoming something wetter, and a mist was forming on the air. Little lumps of slush broke free from high up on the bright glass of the Apple Store and plopped to the sidewalk.