Went for my usual walk this morning. It was, so the radio said, one degree in New York. Even my rubber-soled shoes sounded crunchy. The sun had been up for an hour. The Hudson, which reverses its flow with the tide, was running south, and a strong wind clipped along in the same direction. Where the sun hit the water a thick mist boiled up, curled into the air and raced south, too. The mist was a pure white, like blowing snow, and the intense blue sky was absolutely clear. Pilings and bits of piers emerged from the mist and vanished, appeared again. Buildings on the far shore gleamed and sparkled. A ferry charged across the river as though it had a warm place to go to. And I had this thought: maybe we SHOULD settle Mars.

Or maybe I just think too much about weather.