Sunday's snowfall was one of the most beautiful I have ever experiences in 20 years of New York life. The precipitation began before breakfast and didn't cease until well after dinner. There was little wind and the flakes were appealingly fluffy, which made for pleasurable, peaceful strolling. The snow clung to the branches of trees and the arches of lampposts for any unusually long time, making for some very pretty pictures. Once on the ground, my son and I found the snow easily packable into snowballs.
Days like Sunday are why winter is a great season. We need them to calm the City's fevered brow. And for excuses to bake cookies and drink scotch.