For the sometimes snowless five boroughs it’s the anticipation of the first event. It seems even a chance of snow flurries can be hyped to biblical proportions. Our city’s reaction is also an over or under proposition. At times the depth of the salt will surpass the depth of the event. Other times everyone is screaming for the spreader. What is Usually left, in our UHI paradise, is a slush shovel Festival before the inevitable overnight freeze. I enjoy hearing the squealing laughter of the young ones playing in whatever falls. If I’m fortunate and the frozen precipitation continues Into the daylight hours I wander into my postage stamp, standing alone and pondering all my loses. I look up to the shrouded grey sky and wait for a flake to touch my face and melt. When that happens everything, for me, becomes good again. As always ....