This month was filled with an abnormal amount of snowstorms. Spending half of this January in New York and the other half in Boston, I have already lost count on how many snowstorms there have been. Living in the city my interaction with the natural world is somewhat limited; however with snow covering the sidewalks, garbage cans, and cars, it is almost like a white blanket covering society. It makes me feel like I am in the woods instead of a big city. Over winter break during some big snowstorms I would stare out my window overlooking the west side highway and the George Washington Bridge. I would find myself mesmerized by the soft, white flakes falling from the sky. Only glimpse of light from the bridge could be seen through the dusty, clouds of snow. The highway, usually filled with hundreds of cars zooming by, was desolate. Any tire mark that dared to disturbed the perfect, white dust was easily gone within thirty seconds. I love how in snowstorms a bustling city street transforms into an abandoned trail. The quietness is sometimes unnerving.
I love the calmness after a snowstorm. Everything looks so clean and bright. I just want to lie in the snow looking up at the sky.