I have the most totally ambivalent feelings about snow. Lately Chicago has been haunted by a few clouds that just keep deluging us with mounds and mounds of snow. Restraint and moderation are not in the picture anywhere. I think it has snowed for 36 hours straight, and whenever you walk, or rather wade, the ground is covered by about a foot and a half of snow. Going anywhere by car involves a strange combination of sledding and off-road driving. Furthermore, almost everything is covered with a fine layer of dirty slush and road salt.

At the same time, snow forces the world into a state of reflection. I feel as though if it kept snowing and snowing and snowing until everything was covered—the roads, the buildings, the street signs, the cars, the trees—the entire world would catch up on a long-neglected deficit of contemplation.