Muffled

From late Thursday night to Friday evening, Toronto, along with other big cities in this part of the planet like Boston and Jersey City experienced what we called in my youth a day or two of heavy snow.  

At about 6 a.m. on Friday morning I looked out the third floor window and saw four centimetres of snow on the balcony furniture. I expressed some disappointment to Bruce for nature's paltry showing so far.  An hour and forty minutes later, there were easily twenty centimetres. I was impressed then.

And all those gigatonnes of snow fell without a sound.

The storm inconvenienced or at least provided a pretext to be late for many thousands of commuters. 

The morning after the storm, the sky was perfectly clear and the sun brilliant on
the fallen snow, passing cars and busy snow plows.

I enjoyed my walk to work, trudging through two feet of unmarked snow in the Allan Gardens. I passed just a few other pedestrians. We all had stupid grins on our faces, like this was the most fun we'd had since we'd forgotten when. 

The fresh snow records how the Allan Gardens have no square inch left untrod.

When I got to work, there was exactly one other person on the floor with me. We usually have close to sixty. 

If you look closely at the painting behind the bench you can see the markes where winds from hurricane Sandy lifted the panels clear of the construction hording around the big sewer excavation and slammed them into the bench. 

As the morning progressed I received updates from staff, some stranded, or still waiting for cabs, or resigned to work at home. Most made it in one way or another. 

It's just an accident of fallen snow sculpted by blowing winds,
but it looks like three stalwarts sat out the storm on the bench.

The snow kept falling. At noon Bruce e-mailed me and told me his office was closing for the day. I, on the other hand, braved a trip on the subway to St. Clair Avenue West where I was scheduled to make a presentation after lunch.

Garbage pick up was undeterred by the storm.

I did make one concession to the weather. Because I am vain, I worry about hat hair. I have been known to wander out bare-headed in the worst weather imaginable. Not this time. 

More proof of human habitation.

The snow was supposed to have tapered off by one in the afternoon, but fell steadily to early evening, by which time I was back home, whiling away my precious life playing stupid games on my iPad, enjoying our gas fireplace and waiting for Friday night's chicken wings to finish cooking.

Life is good.

Have a great week!

Karen