There are days when it feels like we'll never squint into the sun again and we'll be relegated to fur-lined boots until the end of time.
We begin dreaming of ice cream dripping down the sides of sugar cones. Of open-toed shoes and picnic blankets spread across park lawns.
And most of all, we dream of taking off our heavy coats and packing them far, far away.
And then one day, as if out of nowhere, we can.
The trees begin showing signs of life.
And people begin filing out of their houses to spend a quiet Sunday in the warmth of the sun.
Restaurants begin setting tables for patio service.
And the city shifts from black and white to technicolor. It finally feels like spring in New York, and I feel like Dorothy waking up in Oz.