Wait for it! Twilight to Sunrise Time Lapse. 6:00 to 8:00 am. 120 minutes in 26 seconds. 45° F. New Year’s Day. January 1, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
Don’t miss the sunrise shots from this morning here.
I can't sleep…
Wait for it! Twilight to Sunrise Time Lapse. 6:00 to 8:00 am. 120 minutes in 26 seconds. 45° F. New Year’s Day. January 1, 2025. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
Don’t miss the sunrise shots from this morning here.
Here Comes the Sun. 32° F feels like 22° F, wind gusts up to 25 mph. 7:18 to 7:25 am. January 14, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.

Here Comes the Sun. 32° F feels like 22° F, wind gusts up to 25 mph. 7:18 to 7:28 am. January 14, 2024. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. Don’t miss the 10 minutes of sunrise magic here.

I’m an incorrigible heat seeker, and the phrase “wintry mix” fills me with despair. But even so, the lack of cold and ice in 2023 felt unsettling…I was thinking about this while standing outside a science museum a couple of days ago with a friend. We were talking about the weather but not the kind of small talk when you have nothing else to say. “I’m not sure our grandkids will even know what snow is,” she said, with a wry “I’m kidding, but I’m not” laugh…
This past June, Brooklyn was covered in a blanket of smoke from Canadian wildfires. The sky was a muted burnt sienna and the air smelled like a barbecue gone severely wrong. I reassured my son, who had many questions, that the neighborhood was not on fire.
It is my job to make my child feel safe, so I answer questions about scary, calamitous things when he asks, but carefully…he still experiences extreme weather as a novelty and not a threat. I hope he’s much older before he notices a drastic temperature change or more smoke in the air or the fact that it’s New Year’s Eve and there’s no snow on the ground at home. I believe humans can reverse some of the harm we’ve caused to the environment — we’ve done it before — so I’m not a total pessimist. But I am worried.
It finally snowed a bit in Omaha, on Christmas Day, no less — a bit of temporary relief. I’m not worried that my grandchildren, if they ever materialize, will grow up not knowing what snow is, as my friend suggested. But I wonder if, somewhere down the line, one of my descendants will build the last snowman in Omaha.
—  Elizabeth Spiers, from “The End of Snow” (NY Times, January 2, 2024)
Notes:


…and there she sleeps this morning. No mate. Frozen ice surrounds her, and she rests undisturbed. At Peace.
I’m looking out at her. Mr. Canadian Tough-Guy. Wearing T-shirt – – Sweater over T-Shirt – – Hoodie over Sweater – – Northface Down Parka jacket over Hoodie – – Hood up – – Snowpants – – Long johns – – Sweatpants – – Smart Wool Socks – – Sorel Boots – – Smart Wool Gloves.
And I’m still shivering, yearning to get back in the car. A car that’s running, heater blowing.
How all this works?
Beyond my comprehension.
Miracle. All of it.
6:55 a.m. 15° F (- 9° C), feels like 1° F (- 17° C), wind gusts up to 28 mph. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
Post title Inspired by Albert Einstein’s quote: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle.


DK @ Daybreak. 6:32 to 6:46 am, January 8, 2022. 19° F (-7 C), feels like 7° F (-14 C). Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.