We’ve finally seen the limits of what the city government can do. After a month of weekly snowfalls, the battlements fell one by one, until New Haven stands before us whittled down to a flimsy network of paths that scrape along underneath craggy towers of snow, steering huddling residents to the corner shop.
After the first couple of snowfalls, nothing promised trouble – all the important parts of town were cleared, plowed and shoveled. Later, as Mother Nature ramped things up a notch or two, sidewalks and parking lots in peripheral Havens begun to be abandoned to the pale scourge. Last week there was yet another snowfall; in the scramble to find solid ground for wheeled transport, the city largely left humans to fend for themselves.
After yesterday’s assault, the last redoubt fell. The city is sprawled in disarray as even New Haven’s sanctum sanctorum, its golden fish tank, its final attempt at tidiness – the Yale campus – is run through with streets covered in slush and unscrapeable ice pancakes.
Could it have been different? Who knows. As the gray reflections of the day filter through our half-buried windows, we can only contemplate the snowfall that’s been promised for Saturday and most of next week.
Entertainment can’t be reached. Connecticut auto transport isn’t running. We’re sipping tea and wishing March would come already.