The foot of Lookout Hill was locked in winter...
...but across the drive, bathed in sun, the woods were coming alive in the Quaker Cemetery. Can you spot the black squirrel? I didn't, at least not while I was taking the picture.
Citrus-scented witch hazel beckoned behind a scrim of barbed wire.
The snow on the Nethermead was melting into ripples.To her delight, the Child found a cracked pink sled-disc and coasted on it. "The best thing about a busted sled," she observed, "is that you can't be sure where it's going."
The warmed earth smelled wonderful. Squashed in the mud, I found a deluded dandelion! 
But this is still Brooklyn, and I know you crave something slightly surreal and twisted. I am happy to comply by introducing the Marlboro Snow Pig. His eyes and nostrils are of cigarette-pack foil, and he wears his brand proudly on a lariat during his brief life span on a 50-degree afternoon. 
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