The snow is falling steadily now as the sun gets ready to set on an early March evening. The temperature is still too warm for anything to stick, but they say we should have around 8 inches before the weather winds down tomorrow morning. There is a specific point on the globe, 40 degrees north latitude and 70 degrees west known in meteorology as “the Benchmark.” When a developing winter low-pressure system travels up the east coast, its proximity to the benchmark will determine the type of precipitation that New York and other east coast cities receive. A path east of the benchmark means more cold air but less snow, west of the benchmark and we’ll probably receive a mix of rain and snow or even all rain from the winter storm. If, however, the storm’s center tracks more or less across the benchmark, and the other ingredients are assembled (cold air, moisture, etc.), then we might see a decent amount of snow. Tonight’s storm is predicted to be fast moving, and some mixed precipitation (sleet, rain, freezing rain) might mix in suppressing snow totals as it meanders over or near that otherwise insignificant point out in the Western Atlantic ocean.

But for now, the snow lightly begins to fall. Each flake quickly melting as it touches the various surfaces outside the window: the rusted metal fire escape, the protruding row of yellow brick soldiers standing proud of their neighboring courses, uncollected trash bags, the hood of a car, and the street and sidewalk beneath it all. If the forecast verifies, these objects will hold several inches of snow, and we will see them differently. We will notice the details of the building’s brick pattern through the way the snow has collected in geometric shapes. The snow will reveal a bike that has been chained to the streetlight for over a year, its rusting frame barely noticeable against the equally as rusty streetlamp base. But, covered in a layer of white, these things take on a new identity and don’t escape our awareness on our morning dog walk. In fact, even the way in which we walk on a snowy sidewalk becomes mindful: a missed step results in a shoe full of slush or worse, a slip.

Over time, we become familiar with our surroundings, the details fall away, lulled by a sense of redundancy — not noticing the myriad of textures, details, and even people that make up our everyday world. The character of a block or neighborhood only revealed through novelty: fall leaves, a snowstorm, demolition, and construction. What would it be like to notice more? To seek out novelty without a benchmark crossing weather system? Distracted by thoughts and screens, the spaces and places of our every day are replaced by our time traveling minds (what am I making for dinner? I wish I would have spoken up in that meeting. etc.) or the endless streams of novelty swiped across our screens. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up and, for a few hours, until the sun warms the air above the freezing mark, we’ll see our neighborhood in a new way — perhaps serving as a reminder to notice what has been there all along.