"A Winter in Peekskill"

A bench beneath the snowfall, holding memory like frost.

Snowfall and Trekking in Peekskill
How much snow fell in Peekskill varied depending on where you lived. On average, the area received about 6 inches (15 centimeters), but in some parts—like Fort Hill—the snowfall exceeded that, reaching over 9 inches (22 centimeters) across its many peaks. Trekking was made easier by following in the footsteps of those who had walked there before; the cold air had frozen much of the snow, preventing you from sinking too deeply while climbing uphill or descending. The steps, particularly the deep ones on Paulding, were less challenging thanks to the hardened snow, which made them easier to navigate.

Winter’s Sights and Sounds
I heard birds and hoped to spot them among the bare trees, but few were visible in the park. The streams and wetlands resembled shallow skating rinks, their surfaces frozen over. The trees stood like sculptures, adding to the stark beauty of the scene. Occasionally, patches of rust-colored leaves and the green of pines and evergreens brought touches of color to the otherwise snow-blanketed woods, while the interplay of light and shadow made everything appear as if rendered in black and white.

Personal Reflections
​This snowfall was the most significant I’ve encountered as an adult, and even after experiencing its magnitude, I find myself longing for more. While Robert Frost famously chose the road less traveled when faced with diverging paths, I made a different decision during this heavy snow. Rather than forging my own way through the deep drifts, I followed where others had already stepped—their footprints offering an easier route through the thick snow. Occasionally, though, curiosity pulled me away from the main path, leading me to explore a frozen stream or a captivating scene that caught my eye and beckoned me closer.

A Small Moment
As I stood there, I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, hoping for a brief moment of quiet to enjoy one. The wind, however, refused to cooperate, making it impossible to get a flame going. After several failed attempts, my frustration grew, and I realized there were only two cigarettes left in the pack—a remnant from the Christmas party. Accepting that the weather had made the decision for me, I slipped the pack back into my pocket, thinking perhaps it was just as well that I didn’t smoke after all.

❄️ Gallery Below: A Winter in Peekskill
From Fort Hill’s snow-draped peaks to the solemn hush of St. Mary’s Cemetery, the storm left its signature across every stone and branch. Abbey Inn stood watch like a cloistered sentinel, while the pond froze over in quiet reverence. Boys built a snowman in a park on Decatur Avenue—laughter echoing through the cold.

Inside the park, West and East Redoubt offered stunning views: city rooftops softened by snow, trees sculpted by silence.
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This gallery captures the storm’s grace—its weight, its wonder, and the paths we followed through it.

Between the snowfall and the silence, we walked. Between the frost and the memory, we stayed.