Snowpocalypse Lite, or: My Kingdom for a Camera
Here in Philadelphia, the snow wasn't as crippling as in DC. The city got a foot or so, the suburbs a bit more. That's not enough to paralyze the city, but it's more than enough to be very pretty, and very, very fun.
Instead of doing anything remotely productive or useful today, I went out into the snow, despite not having proper winter boots - you don't really need them in Philly, usually - and down to Clark Park, which is just down the block from me.
Normally, I hate crowds (I know, I know, a city person who hates crowds; I'm perverse), but it turns out that sledding and General Winter Fun is one of those things that gets better, not worse, when you live in a dense-ish urban neighborhood and there's only one decent sledding hill, a big basin in Clark Park. Everyone was there: people I see randomly on the street, little kids and their parents, crust punks, Ubiquitous West Philly Hipsters who were enjoying the whole thing ironically, even a few brave Penn undergrads. Real snow comes here so rarely, it was like a carnival. I helped someone shovel out his car; a little kid very magnanimously let me use his little orange sled.
I stayed out as long as I could, until my totally-not-suited-for-snow shoes got soaked through and I couldn't feel my toes anymore. I complain endlessly about winter, but snow is one of the few bright spots, especially around here, when it happens infrequently enough that it's an exciting treat (as opposed to, say, Wisconsin, where it's about as remarkable as a sunny day in Los Angeles). If it's going to be freezing, at least let there be some snow. It adds some fun and beauty to Philly's otherwise bleak and draining winters.
I only wish I could find my camera. Well, trust me: it was delightful.
Instead of doing anything remotely productive or useful today, I went out into the snow, despite not having proper winter boots - you don't really need them in Philly, usually - and down to Clark Park, which is just down the block from me.
Normally, I hate crowds (I know, I know, a city person who hates crowds; I'm perverse), but it turns out that sledding and General Winter Fun is one of those things that gets better, not worse, when you live in a dense-ish urban neighborhood and there's only one decent sledding hill, a big basin in Clark Park. Everyone was there: people I see randomly on the street, little kids and their parents, crust punks, Ubiquitous West Philly Hipsters who were enjoying the whole thing ironically, even a few brave Penn undergrads. Real snow comes here so rarely, it was like a carnival. I helped someone shovel out his car; a little kid very magnanimously let me use his little orange sled.
I stayed out as long as I could, until my totally-not-suited-for-snow shoes got soaked through and I couldn't feel my toes anymore. I complain endlessly about winter, but snow is one of the few bright spots, especially around here, when it happens infrequently enough that it's an exciting treat (as opposed to, say, Wisconsin, where it's about as remarkable as a sunny day in Los Angeles). If it's going to be freezing, at least let there be some snow. It adds some fun and beauty to Philly's otherwise bleak and draining winters.
I only wish I could find my camera. Well, trust me: it was delightful.