Snowzilla, Part One, plus a manifesto

These are some of the photos I took this morning in NYC. Yes, I was out. I go to the river every morning before I start work, by which I mean, every morning. The exceptions are morning when I have some early appointment, but the exceptions are not weather. Weather is part of the point.

Because I learned this in a sudden epiphany years ago: gorgeousness and pleasantness are not the same. What happened was, I went with a friend to Storm King Art Center. It was summer, July or August, a very hot day. Storm King’s a vast outdoor sculpture park, conceived and operated to present, well, vast outdoor sculptures. We’d been roaming over the rolling hills for about half an hour, sweating as we ambled from diSuvero to Noguchi, when it started to rain. My friend was all for running into the small house they use to show small works. But this was just a warm rain, no thunder, no lightning, and we’d been so hot and sweaty. And a Henry Moore was glistening white and wet in the distance. My friend went in; I stayed outside, meandering around on the soggy grass, seeing the glistening Moore, watching drops plink into puddles in Noguchi’s carved stones. And I realized: physical discomfort is unavoidable, and everywhere. My back hurts after a couple of hours at my desk. I have to grab for air playing basketball. Nothing, as long as I live in this physical body, is without cost. So why not get wet in a fabulous rain near plinking Noguchis?

This philosophy has served me well. I got to see double rainbows in Mongolia after a cold wet night.


I tramped through — and fell down in — slippery mud in the terraced rice fields of Yunnan, and I saw this.


And I went out today in Snowzilla, and found many things.

Outside from inside, just before I left.


Snowplow tracks

The river near my bench

Light and its reflection


Sledding kids (what a good daddy they have)

Trees and wall



I wasn’t at the river alone

Hard-working building super


  1. Nancy Shamban says:

    I love your philosophy. You are so right. Pain will always be there but one could miss the joy! Thanks

  2. carrie says:

    I feel like I just went on a journey. Thank you!

  3. Warren Liebold says:

    I especially liked the last two.

  4. Dick Rodstein says:

    Terrific river park shots. You must have nine layers of clothing.

  5. Susan Law says:

    Love the photos – especially the ones all gray and snowy with one bright color – blue light, green sleds, blue umbrella…..

  6. Nancy says:

    You are brave to venture out but your photos are proof that it is well worth the trip. This is why I depend on your weather reports for ny weather. Photos are stunning .

  7. tim in seattle says:

    I like it!
    I tell my son (and have lived it myself) to stop seeking contentment and comfort and strive instead for satisfaction. Many very gratifying results come after some pretty unpleasant slogging.
    On the other hand, I’m pretty content to look at your photos from the warmth ad comfort of my office chair, they are beautiful!

  8. Love these photos, SJ.

  9. SJ Rozan says:

    Nancy — Indeed!
    Carrie — Me too, slogging through all that snow. In real life went about six blocks.
    Warren — Thanks! The camera liked that they WERE the last two.
    Cousin Dick — I admit to a certain amount of Uniqlo about my person.
    Susan — I’m a sucker for that kind of set-up.
    Nancy — Glad I can help.
    Tim — Partly, it’s because you’re not going to get contentment and comfort anyway. Waste of time and effort looking for them. (By the time my friend got to the Storm King house she was wet anyway.)
    Naomi — Thanks!

  10. K Powers says:

    Just got back from snowshoeing at the dog park. Dogs happy, I’m happy.

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