I know it’s ridiculous but one thing I really miss, living in San Francisco, is snow. Sure I don’t miss having to shovel the driveway or having to scrape out the car or falling down on the sidewalk because you don’t even notice the ice glaze on it. But to wake up after a snow fall, where the blanket of white muffles everything resulting in an eerie quiet stillness, it feels magical. You never get that in San Francisco. But I was lucky to be in New York a few weeks ago for the Roger Smith Cookbook Conference speaking on publishers and food bloggers working together, right when snow storm Nemo hit. Though everyone was worried that Nemo was going to be another Sandy (it wasn’t, at least not in New York) I was thrilled to get some snow in the city. Between sessions at the conference, I ran out to Central Park to take a few pictures and revel in the joy of a city blanketed with fresh snow. Kids making snowmen, people sledding (some down stairs!) and the general feeling of a wonderous winterland made me wish I could stay a few days longer in New York. Of course, had I stayed, that snow would have turned to gray slush quickly. But I didn’t think of it that way. I just thought of it as a wonderland.
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