Across the way, a father carves a smiley face into a snow-topped mailbox for his tottering, bundled up son.
Young women in hijabs chase each other along the slushy sidewalks, gathering snowflakes on their flowing dresses and sturdy shoes.
High on the rooftops, Imperial hooligans push drifts of snow onto the hats of passing students.
Smartly dressed businessmen congregate outside of a Starbucks, lattes in one hand and snowballs in the other.
Cars line the roads, topped with snow eight inches deep (but only on the side facing traffic). Eager hands of all ages have been quick to stretch from the sidewalks and scoop off what fluff they can reach.
Clumsily built snowmen occupy the medians of the perpetually busy streets, assembled with stony eyes, newspaper arms, and traditional carrot noses.
Carefully we walk, placing our feet just so and tensing our bodies for the inevitable slide, but unable to chase away the smiles that relax our faces.