A message for Holden Caulfield

Last Monday, when we got back from Miami, a freezing and foggy New York welcomed us. On Tuesday, it snowed for most of the day, but the snow, fortunately, didn't really stick on the streets. The Park, well, was another story. 

Central Park last Wednesday, a mere day
after the first real snow of the season

And it's been snowing all freaking day this past Saturday. All. Fucking. Day. This time around, the white frozen water, to my sheer annoyance, stuck. Not to mention that by evening, snow turned into frozen rain, so the freshly deposited white fluffiness, that by the way looked kind of cute from the safety of my blanket-wrapped-hot-cocoa-cup-in-hand vantage point, suddenly turned into a soggy icy slippery mess. Nice.

I have a love-hate relationship with winter. Having grown up on the Mediterranean coast in a sub-mediterranean climate, snow days were few and far in between. Instead, our winters were either foggy and soggy or batshit crazy cold thanks to the burja, but that's another story.

Although I have remarkable thermoregulation,  I hate being cold. And I hate cold wet stuff falling from the sky. Sure, snow is awesome on the ski slopes up in the mountains, and yes, forests freshly dusted with snowflakes look pretty, but come on, snow is cold, slippery, impractical, and entertains the habit of turning into ice on the sidewalks and makes you fall on your butt. Not cool.

SOTD: Florence and The Machine - Landscape. 

This is my first winter in New York (here's to many MANY more!) and I am mentally prepared to plenty of sore butt instances and frost-bitten fingers. I actually like the sunny days, although they come at a price (= frostbitten fingers). During those freezing days, I like to take a longer lunch and go for a stroll in the park while the sun is still up in the sky. And guess what, every single time I do that, my mind drifts to one particular character from one particular book. Yup, Holden from The Catcher in the Rye. 

The Angel of the Waters and a frozen Lake in the background.
What's not to love?
Oh, yeah, I know, having your toes amputated 'cause they froze!

And in particular, his endless yammering about the ducks in the pond in Central Park, is looping in my brain during those walks. He talks about the ducks that usually hang out at the Pond down at the southern edge of the park, but kind of get chased away once the water freezes over. And poor angsty Holden wonders where they might go. 

The Lake and Bow bridge this morning.

Well, Holden, buddy, I found them. They move just a tad north to the Lake. Mystery solved, Holden. 

Ducky hangout in a non-frozen pocket of the Lake.

Dear Holden. Here are your ducks. Next time,
just walk from one body of water to the next, dude.

All of a sudden, I have this craving for re-opening The Catcher in The Rye. It's been about 8 years since I last read it...

Happy Salinger-ing,

Jules

p.s. These pics were taken on this particular Monday morning on my way to the American Museum of Natural History. After a 60+ work week that ended yesterday around 11 pm, I decided to play hooky for the morning and go check out the whales exhibit. It was amazing. Beautiful. Fun. And heartbreaking. Did you know that the blue whale's aorta is actually big enough for a toddler to crawl in it relatively comfortably. And did you know that sperm whales got their name because early whalers thought the white slimy stuff in their (ginormous) noses was sperm. Turns out, it's semiliquid that helps them do that sonar thing they do to detect prey. Mind? Blown! More than just twice!