Panic Artists: The Snow Family of 106th Street

It’s been a slow year for snowmen.

In years past, snowmen popped up all over Riverside Park after every big snow, like mushrooms after a rain. Here are a few examples.

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A few years ago, a snow person pushed a positively ecstatic snow baby in a swing in one of the Tot Lot playgrounds of Riverside Drive.

Despite the snowy winter of 2015, the population of snow people seems to have declined dramatically. Luckily for the snowman aficionado, the quality remains high.  Take a look at this wide-eyed family.

Every year, some version of the central figure presides over West 106th Street between Amsterdam and Broadway.

This was the 2010 incarnation:

The current family triad began, as ever, with the behemoth at the center.

Photo by Maya Rajamani in the West Side Rag, my neighborhood paper. (Click photo for the Rag’s excellent analysis tracing the influences on this snowman. Hint: Think Gerard Depardieu.)

One day, in an interesting twist, the figure suddenly spawned a companion. Notice also the smile that appears on the behemoth’s face after the appearance of the little tyke.

And then, some days or weeks later, the behemoth spawned again. But now, sad to say, the behemoth’s expression has changed to dismay, and, oh dear, is that a look of panic in its now-yellow eyes?

(Thanks to Out Walking the Dog reader, Ken Hittel, for alerting me to the appearance of a third figure.)

All three beings are looking pretty wild-eyed. In fact, the more I look at them, the more worried I feel. I mean, these guys are clearly not sleeping, Take a look at those eyes. I’m pretty sure they’re all three lying awake at night, each in a separate, incommunicable state of high anxiety as they stare into the strange glow of New York City after dark.

Alas, poor snow creatures. Their days are numbered, and every hour brings them closer to the Great Thaw.

Let’s take a moment to look a little closer at each member of our goggle-eyed family of insomniacs, starting with the profoundly anxious little panic artist in the green hat.

The end is coming.

I so wish I could blink.

Sure, I love you. BUT WE’RE ALL GONNA FUCKING DIE.

On a gentler note, the dog posed beneath a sweet snowdog on the retaining wall of Riverside Park.

And back over at West Side Rag, nycmaggie captured a rare snow cat scaling a tree.

I hear there’s more snow predicted this week. Let’s hope more snow creatures follow.

And it’s snowing! Again.

Down in the playground beneath my window, birds gather in the snow to peck and fuss.

So we begin March as we finished February – cold and snowy.

New York has just finished the coldest February in 80 years, and the third coldest on record.

I’ve become fascinated with ice on the Hudson River.

I especially love to watch the tide come in, and see the river flow north toward the great interior. Here is ice flowing north.

It’s easy to forget we live in an estuary, and our mighty river is tidal.

The waterways are filled with ice, ice, and more ice. A beautiful bird’s eye view from an NBC helicopter takes you down the Hudson River to New York Harbor and around the tip of the island to the East River. (It’s well worth waiting for the ad to finish.)

Later today, or tomorrow, I’ll check on my friendly neighborhood behemoth and its sidekick.