|Old Central Park Photo–Wait! I took this on Saturday!|
I love New York in the snow. Well, I always love New York, but the city is the most magical place that I have ever been when the white flakes start dropping from the sky. Never having to shovel is a just the icing on the big white cake.
After much anticipation, the first snow arrived this weekend. I am definitely not the early bird who gets the worm, unlike the other creatures in my apartment. On Saturday, I needed to make an exception.
I was up at 7:45 to beat the crowds and get Bogey to Central Park for off-leash time. Watching at least a dozen four-legged fur babies dance around, chase their balls, and prance in white confetti was worth my exhaustion. Cold was not the right word. Felt like minus 10 degrees with the wind, and the snow was mixed with sleet or something frozen and sharp; hitting my skin like wet little razor blades.
|Near my apartment|
One thing I have learned in my four plus years in Manhattan: if the weather is crappy, it is a magnificent time to take in the city. Both residents and visitors stay inside, and with a little suffering, some of the most unforgettable memories are made.
|I See the Ball!|
|Bogey Posing Pretty|
|West 88th Street|