Yet another snowstorm

Last weekend, my Cos from Chicago was going to come visit with her two little nubbins. I cannot even begin to tell you enough how cute her daughters are. She also has a little son whom I haven't met yet, but judging by the other two, I'm reasonably sure he's perfection as well.

If all kids were like hers, I think I might just want kids of our own. But I know the sad truth. Any spawn of mine would be quite the obstreperous terror, and if there's anything I've learnt from life, it's that I'm not going to put myself in the position of having to deal with the consequences of my own genetic inaptitudes.

So back to my point. My Cos was due to visit us last weekend, her little cherubs in tow. Unfortunately however, as has been typical of this winter past, snowstorms descended upon us like hell hath no fury (or, well, at least as bad as the previous snowstorms anyway), and all flights into the city were cancelled.

Typical. Just typical. We had a whole plan around painting pottery and trying sushi and having brunch, and -

Now this. Nothingness instead. I was crushed.

Delta and I were both feeling rather bereft by this untoward turn of events, and decided to seek consolation in the Park.

Of course, nothing will make up for not being able to spend time with my Cos and her fam.

But there is something rather fantastical about Central Park in the snow. Something that, to put it colourfully, rather just blows the mind. Something that makes you pause, just when you're overwrought with winter anguish, and rejoice, for just a moment, in the beauty of it all.