Yesterday, pouring rain, mist, fog and clouds and too-warm weather. Got up early and walked all over lower Manhattan, as is my personal New Year's Day tradition. Had the park by the river almost entirely to myself, and a lot of the streets, too. Between the downpour and people's hangovers, not even the joggers were out, and the very few dogwalkers seemed groggy. The gray light didn't change all day. Buildings, streetlights and ships kept appearing and disappearing in the mist. I left flowers at the WTC site for a firefighter I knew who died there, and got home entirely, completely, thoroughly soaked.

Today, cold wind, not a cloud, and glorious sunshine glittering off the water. Seagulls swooping, trying to make up for yesterday, as are the joggers -- probably they're trying to make up for a little new year's indulgence, too. And just as I was about to leave, the Norwegian Spirit came nosing around the pier. Sister to the Norwegian Dawn, this one's painted not with a smile but with dolphins and someone who most likely represents the norse god of the sea, though he's suspiciously young, clean-shaven, and buff. I stood and watched that slow, out-of-scale slide up the river. Then came back and wrote my first 500 words of the new year.