Frosty the Photographer
January 27, 2011
I haven’t slept, my legs are throbbing, stomach churning and I’m soaked. But my card is full, and there’s a smile on my face.
It happens only once or twice a year, if you’re lucky. The planets align, the powers assemble, and inches upon inches of delicate powder descend from the heavens, blanketing the city that never sleeps (just late enough for everyone to be asleep).
From the wee hours of about 1 – 6am, New York transforms into a wonderland. There are no roads, no cars, almost no noise at all (almost). By morning, it will all be dirty; ice will be plowed into a street-brown mixture, car and shop owners will be shoveling the snow off their property and onto someone else’s, and the din of trucks and taxis will once again fill the atmosphere.
But for just a moment, New York is the most beautiful place on earth. Like a city of porcelain, everything smooth, white, and shimmering in all directions. The only people awake are those who want to be a part of this, and their dogs. Smiles coat their faces, and snowflakes their paws.
There is no night in the city, only the deep orange glow from a million sreetlamps and apartments, permeating even the darkest corners of the park, where the undead trees of winter stretch their boney branches towards the sky, mistaking the light for a real sun which might wake them from their slumber.
It is time for breakfast and rest. Photos coming soon…