According to the National Weather Service, we’ve
just had the coldest February since 1934.
I haven’t spent much time on my bike during the month; in fact, only
once did I take a ride that wasn’t a commute or an errand.
Mounds of varying combinations of snow, slush and
ice, all tinged with soot, line curbs and rim building entrances. Some cars and bikes still haven’t been dug
out. Everything and everyone, it seems,
has been frozen into place, like this plant in front of an apartment building
on the corner of my block:
