New York City, January 9, 2014

★★★ Short, bright contrails dagger-footnoted the clear sky in the morning, and would again at sundown. Ice still moved down the Hudson, about half as fast as the slow-rolling traffic on the elevated highway. The middle of the river was glossy, with smooth long ripples running parallel to the channel. Past midday, the water smoothed out entirely and the floating ice stood still. The air outside was agreeable, if not entirely pleasant. It was hot under the parka now, but cold on the extremities. Dazzling sun came up the street where unbearable wind had blown before. A Christmas tree lay by the curb, still strung with lights. Elsewhere in the temporary sidewalk hedges were a minuscule tree still in its tree-stand, a tree dripping tinsel icicles, and a tree that had passed all the way through the cycle of acquisition, decoration, celebration, and disposal without losing its blue tape tag from the tree vendor.