It was the dark days of February.  It had been an unusually warm winter in New York, and I had planned a couple of days off to do stuff around the house.  When the forecast turned to snow, I thought, "That's nice," but I figured I'd go out for a little while, watch the kids sledding on the hill in Ruppert Towers, then go back and do my stuff.

Then the little snowstorm turned into a record 26".  By Monday morning, my building's courtyard was full of snowmen, the little pine trees in their tubs were laden down with pillows of snow, and the building's staff were out clearing a path with their shovels.   

I grabbed my camera and headed for Central Park.  So did quite a few other people. There were kids with sleds (some new and shiny, some improvised - sheets of cardboard served the purpose).  There were people taking pictures of people taking pictures of people.  There were some original snowmen - slouched on benches with an empty beer bottle in their "hands."  There were people walking their dogs - big furry dogs born for snow and having a wonderful time, and tiny dogs in their elegant winter coats tiptoeing carefully on this strange cold slippery stuff.  (Check out the little living snowball in the pictures!)

Central Park was breathtaking.  Banks and hills of snow, every twig and every leaf with its own little puff of snow.  I wandered up to the reservoir, admired the ducks in the icy water, and watched the cross-country skiers in the distance.

The next stop was the south end of the park, where I wanted to take the winter photos for my set of Central Park photos.  (See Central Park.)  Here, it was even more beautiful - and more crowded.

I was surrounded by people speaking every language on earth, many of them with a Scandinavian lilt.  (How did all these visitors to the city get hold of sleds?)  Surprisingly, the skating rink was closed - I guess they hadn't had time to clear the snow off it.

At the corner by the Plaza Hotel, the carriage drivers saw me, a woman with a camera on a workday and pounced.  They didn't persuade me to take a ride, but a lot of others took the opportunity.  The carriages were everywhere.  The horses seemed to be enjoying themselves, too - they were warmer if they kept moving.

At the pretty little bridge, a photo shoot was going on.  Several guys in warm coats were photographing a model in a strapless gold dress, doing her very best to look as if she was having a wonderful time in the snow.

Finally, I had to give up and go home, mostly because my snow boots, which I only wear once a year or so, were now much too small, and bruising my toes.  I hobbled out of the park, over to Madison Avenue, and, very reluctantly, left a magical place and returned to the world.