It’s been a warm winter in New York City. Too warm, some argue. We were blanketed with white only once and it melted hours later. March has, so far, refused to live up to its fate. It has come in like a lamb.
Yesterday, I left the office in the middle of the day to read. Maybe a little reckless of me. But. Well.
I sat at Madison Square Park and was struck by all you could see through the trees. It is the best thing about winter. The view it affords. With trees in bloom, I would not be able to see the Empire State Building, the clock tower, or building tops dipped in gold.