Savoring the cold.
Feb. 23rd, 2026 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hannahIt was beautifully quiet today. The snow helped, of course, and the snow was the cause - people staying home, cars not getting driven, taxis not cruising for passengers. Helicopters and planes staying on the ground. It took me a while to realize I wasn't hearing the usual sounds. When the snow let up and people started driving again, I honestly felt resentful that the travel ban wasn't going on longer. It'd been a nice glimpse into a quieter New York City. I feel like that's how it always is. Just a glimpse of a better world.
Or at least, a moment to resettle so I can realize just how noisy the West Side Highway really is. I went down to the park to walk a bit in the afternoon, after the snow stopped, and I don't mind noise from kids that are shouting about how happy they are or what a good time they're having when they're sledding down a big hill, or noise from people talking about an inflatable toy's weight limit before sledding down the big hill themselves. Human voices. There were a couple of shrieks right near me for some reason, and of course a very loud barking dog that its owner insisted was friendly, and overall, just nice sounds of people.
I had my headband on and my hood up, and both those things helped muffle the world. The coat itself was warm enough that when I lay back in the snow, twice, I stayed comfortable enough to settle in for a little bit. Not many minutes, but enough time to measure on a stopwatch, easily.
There were several taped-off CAUTION areas around fallen trees and threatening branches, and I found it wonderful that people had already made a single-file path underneath one of the trees in between the branches - sticking as close to the path that the tree had fallen over as best they all could. Ducking down to get under and through. A little ways away there was a bower made from bushes bent over with snow that also provided something of a roof, and some parents took pictures of their kids hanging out in there and posing at the entrance. It made for a nice echo of both adults and children doing more or less the same thing, if on different scales. The intent of play was close enough to call it the same.
There were snow men, snow women, snow people, and snow animals. There were snow structures made from hand packing it and snow structures made from using plastic bins to mold sturdy bricks. There was a moment I saw the sky start to come out and felt a pang of disappointment because it meant the day was moving on from the storm. I'd fallen back into the snow already then, and made a point to do it a second time. If I'd been more careful with my legs not getting wet, I'd have lain there a while longer. But I knew the day was going, so I might as well go, too, so I wouldn't have to see it end.
Or at least, a moment to resettle so I can realize just how noisy the West Side Highway really is. I went down to the park to walk a bit in the afternoon, after the snow stopped, and I don't mind noise from kids that are shouting about how happy they are or what a good time they're having when they're sledding down a big hill, or noise from people talking about an inflatable toy's weight limit before sledding down the big hill themselves. Human voices. There were a couple of shrieks right near me for some reason, and of course a very loud barking dog that its owner insisted was friendly, and overall, just nice sounds of people.
I had my headband on and my hood up, and both those things helped muffle the world. The coat itself was warm enough that when I lay back in the snow, twice, I stayed comfortable enough to settle in for a little bit. Not many minutes, but enough time to measure on a stopwatch, easily.
There were several taped-off CAUTION areas around fallen trees and threatening branches, and I found it wonderful that people had already made a single-file path underneath one of the trees in between the branches - sticking as close to the path that the tree had fallen over as best they all could. Ducking down to get under and through. A little ways away there was a bower made from bushes bent over with snow that also provided something of a roof, and some parents took pictures of their kids hanging out in there and posing at the entrance. It made for a nice echo of both adults and children doing more or less the same thing, if on different scales. The intent of play was close enough to call it the same.
There were snow men, snow women, snow people, and snow animals. There were snow structures made from hand packing it and snow structures made from using plastic bins to mold sturdy bricks. There was a moment I saw the sky start to come out and felt a pang of disappointment because it meant the day was moving on from the storm. I'd fallen back into the snow already then, and made a point to do it a second time. If I'd been more careful with my legs not getting wet, I'd have lain there a while longer. But I knew the day was going, so I might as well go, too, so I wouldn't have to see it end.
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