New York City, January 16, 2017

★★★★★ The white-streaked sky was bright and expansive. The light projecting up the avenue, over the nuggets of salt still strewn there, had a warm yellow cast to it. Here and there undriven cars held onto their thin snow crusts. The playground handball court still had ice down in the joints of the concrete. Little flat chunks of it broke and scattered as the five-year-old ran around with his tennis racket. The bright fresh tennis ball gathered wet spots and smudges, and damp shoe prints peppered the zone where he set up to return the ball off the wall. The footing was fine, though, and there was no danger of frostbite, no matter how long things might last.