★★★★ Bare hands no longer burned in the open air. Light in the treetops gleamed red off buds on the tips of the branches. Down in the garden courtyard, the toddler found one long, skinny patch of snow still on the pavement and left sneaker prints through it. In another snowy spot, finger-drawn letters had gone puffy, down to the underlying blocks: OOD ORNING. Late sun touched the tailgates and trunks of the cars on the elevated expressway, with the Hudson in shadow beyond them. A contrail slanted southwestward into choppy clouds, silver now. At dusk, they would deepen to aquamarine.