It was one for the history books, although it really didn’t feel that much bigger than some of the storms we’ve had in the last few years. And nowhere near as dramatic as the blizzard of 1996. In fact, it was a nice quiet Sunday, perfect for heading down to the Strand for some book browsing.
Update: And reading the Times this morning, I see that while the snow was copious, it wasn’t violent enough to meet the criteria for a blizzard, at least not here in the city. The Times article ends with some lovely, poetic writing:
For many indoors, it was a day to relax by a window, perhaps with a glass of wine and soft jazz on the radio, and take in the unreal loveliness of winter — the panes frosted like glass from Murano, the sills drifted with flourishes of lacework, and, out in the storm, dreamscapes of snow blowing down a street, curtains of snow falling in great sweeps, snow settling like peace in the parks and skeletal woodlands.
That looks like fun, let me try:
Thou still unshovelled street of sloshiness,
Thou icey-slide of violence and snow crime…
The view from the front yard.
There’s a car in there somewhere…
Union Square classic snow globe scene (just missing the Statue of Liberty).
Back on the East side and the sidewalks have been plowed.