Archive | Weather Matters

The Shadow of Your Smile

I appreciate the creative incubation tank proffered by winter, I really do, but now that it’s officially March I find myself eying the floral dresses in my closet with a longing I usually reserve for chocolate-lemon tarts, Helena Rubenstein’s jewels, and certain exes who just aren’t good for me. Yesterday it snowed yet again, and to console myself I bought some tulips buds; their nascence matched my mood. Today they popped: yellow blooms with slender red stripes, such a pretty surprise. I love them ardently, and as I work at my desk, keep stealing glances of these proud little ambassadors of a spring that’s bound to arrive someday, regardless of the blizzard that threatens to arrive later this week. Who can believe such doomsday predictions anyway? Today at least it promises to reach 40 degrees and the sun is shining with all her might. I am cheering her on. “Only God, my dear/ Could love you for yourself alone/ And not your yellow hair.”

Are You a Cat or Are You a Ghost?

After three weeks of snow and ice and, for variety, ice and snow, this weather is really getting old. Permakitten Grace has such cabin fever that she now spends all her times hunting me, thereby confirming my theory that everyone needs a frenemy. Mostly she crouches in corners, ears pinned back while she studies her prey with narrowed eyes and half-hearted growls. (She’s not naturally a mean sort.) Sometimes she takes it up a notch, and manages to scare me. She’s very sneaky. This morning she poked her head out of the slightly ajar sock drawer, landed on me while I was peeing (who closes the door when they live alone?), and materialized in my boot when I bent to put it on. I’d be cross except a. her stealth technique is admirably high-caliber b. she’s cracking me up. In fact, said feline has earned herself a new name. All hail Little Miss Pop-Up Video.

Cold Weather Ducklings

Look, say what you will about the unpleasantries of winter but time and time again I’m struck by the matter-of-fact generosity of New Yorkers in inclimate weather–and in difficult moments in general. Tonight I dropped my glove in the gap between the subway and platform (no, I didn’t “mind the gap”), and two MTA workers walked over from the other side of the stop to rescue it for me because, as they put it, “why should the rats get another nest when your hand is gonna get cold.” On the ride home from dinner (admittedly, wine was drunk), I felt an immeasurable love for everyone in their cold-weather gear–still making an effort to look pretty in their carefully selected hats and scarves and coats but endearingly vulnerable nonetheless, as if we were all kindergartners clad in our finest outerwear. It doesn’t hurt that New Yorkers are astoundingly nice-looking in general. (Sorry, everyone else, but it’s true.)

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy