City Sidewalks

Today was a hard day for me to live in the city.

There's something magical about the first snow of the year here in Wisconsin. Something...sacred, special, and unique. The first snow in the city however, is just sad.

I went for my yearly walk to take pictures of trees and snow and cold and the progression of seasons, and found myself more worried about getting hit by people driving recklessly than noticing the season shift. I found some trees, but they looked lonely with only houses to keep them company. The snow seemed to hang sadly in their branches, upset that it was mostly buildings that caught it in its fall to the ground. A roof is a far more depressing resting place than the crook of a tree.

Two years ago I slipped on slick pavement and broke my wrist in several places. Ever since, even with proper footwear, I find myself grimacing whenever walking on slick sidewalks. I longed for the happy crunch of freshly frozen grass, the way I could feel the mud beneath refusing to freeze just yet. Moonlight and snow are amazing things when combined correctly. A winter's night in Wisconsin can be nearly as bright as a summer morning if the moon is out and the ground is coated with the right kind of snow. I'm talking of that kind with the crust of ice on top and thin fluffy flurries underneath. The type that dogs and cats try to balance on, and look devastated as they fall through.

Winter in the city just reflects the street lights, drivers' fear accidents, and everyone praying to make it through.

I'm going to join the prayer. The city is not for me.