The mounds of snow are slowly shrinking, their top layers melting away under the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun. The sidewalks are dark with water, the gutters swollen with it. Everything freezes again overnight, leaving thin, treacherous layers of black ice over sidewalks and curbs and parking lots in the morning.
Along the roads, the snow is gritty, brown from the traffic rolling by and throwing up dirt and exhaust onto the pure white drifts. The city makes the snow ugly, and the dirt keeps it from melting. In the parks, the drifts are still mostly white and clean, though crisscrossed with deep footprints. Fat squirrels scurry lightly over the top of the snow. In the Public Garden, the lake is thick white ice, with a few telltale brown patches where it grows thin. Someone has dug the ducklings out, still cheerily sporting their red Christmas ribbons.
Before moving to Boston, I had never engaged with snow as a thing, a weight, a physical presence. Snow in West Texas is an ephemeral novelty; in Oxford, it was a temporary delight. In New England, the delight is still temporary, but the reality has staying power. After a storm like Nemo, the aftermath lingers for days and weeks. Slush gathers on street corners, churned up by muddy boots; in sheltered corners, patches of dirt-speckled snow sometimes lie until spring.
Every morning, I check the weather forecast and the public transportation website. I pull on tights and knee socks, a puffy down jacket, thick-soled boots. I wrap a scarf around my neck, pull on gloves and a hat, and head out to do battle with the elements. Sometimes I walk for ten yards along a sidewalk before hitting solid snow. More often I move my feet slowly, carefully, over the patches of ice until I find dry ground again.
This is what winter in Boston requires: preparation, the right gear, sharp eyes and careful navigation. For me, it also requires extra light, color therapy, plenty of tea and soup, bouquets of fresh flowers on the dining room table. And a good dose of grit-your-teeth perseverance.
I’m trying. I really am. But I’m counting the days till spring.
cakes, tea and dreams 
Your writing reveals that you read as much as you do. Beautifully written post, and I agree: Spring is more than welcome.
I love the ducks being dug out and the sweet memory of our walk.
We didn’t have so much snow yet, but are counting the days till spring, too. We are worn out by the cold and darkness.
How is J doing with driving to work? Are the streets icy?
For me it’s the first winter I drive to work instead of taking the bus, and on every snow day I get really worried about slippery streets.
As a knitter, winter is a beloved season but as a lover of light and warm breezes, I am itching for spring.
You should see me walking around campus… One solid step, ten sliding steps, and all over again. I’m glad you and J are warm and safe, and that you’re finding a way to enjoy the rituals of winter here! Much love to you from (equally snowy) Davis Square!
Such beautiful writing! I love this line, especially: “Snow in West Texas is an ephemeral novelty; in Oxford, it was a temporary delight.”
Growing up in Michigan, back when winters were really real, we often didn’t see grass for three months. Snow was just a reality, something we knew how to navigate and live with. Now I live a couple of “growing regions” south (what do you call those regions mapped out on the back of seed packets?), where we only get a couple of good snows a winter, always with melting in between. I get nostalgic about huge snows, which made me love reading this post even more.
Our Swedish friends tell us there is no such thing as bad weather if you have the right clothes. You seem to have conquered that part with style.
When we lived in W. NY, I learned to appreciate the changing of seasons. I have since said that I like winter from just before Christmas till the end of January-that’s about as much as I can stand. But, certainly having things that help in preparing and living through longer spells is important. I actually still have my snow boots from when we lived in NY…just in case!