Maybe, as the tired cliché goes, spring has sprung where you are. Here in New York, however, spring is on its knees, begging for mercy. Although yesterday the temperature reached a comparatively blazing 60 degrees, this morning winter returned like the predicted second wave of flu.
But how can winter return when it hasn't really left? This is our fifth snowfall in five weeks. The sound of shovels on my sidewalk might as well be renamed Upper East Side Symphony.
"Wait a minute," I hear you say. "Aren't these the same photos he took on the first day of spring?" I don't blame you for making that mistake. But a careful comparison will prove that this morning's snow, taken almost two weeks later in April, is heavier and colder.
Yesterday's 60-degree kiss was merely a tease. Warm, perhaps, but only compared to recent days in the 30s and low 40s. It was actually warmer in February -- like, by over 40 degrees -- when people were walking about in spring jackets and short skirts, although, in my case, not necessarily simultaneously.
The Yankees play their first home game of the season today. And why not? Last year on this date, it was a sunny 63-degree day, pleasant enough weather to watch millionaires run around a field.
How will Yankees fans feel today? Will they abandon their $2500 box-seats in favor of barstools inside the stadium? Will they even be able to see the field under several inches of snow? Or will they wonder if they should've put that 2500 bucks to better use, like a first-class ticket to Miami Beach instead?
On March 22, CNN reported that New York marked its fifth consecutive season with at least 30 inches of snow. The last time that happened was 130 years ago. Once again, my city continues to make history, whether we want to or not.
As you can see, I bow my head to the weather gods in awe, respect, and, yes, gratitude. For I have reached the age where I say, If it's gotta be cold, at least put it to good use by providing snow. And so it has!
By this afternoon, the sun is expected to appear, and rising temperatures should start the melting process. No doubt the Yankees will play, albeit a little late. People will put away their umbrellas. And by tomorrow, all of this will be just a memory.
But I can take heart in the prediction of more snow next Sunday afternoon. Seasons may change, but only figuratively.
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As you can tell from my video, the birds in the park didn't let a little snow storm dampen their singing. Or maybe they're just crying in surrender. Go full screen for better effect.
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