★★★ The six-year-old kicked up his heels as he sprinted the route to church, spattering black slush drops up the backs of the legs of his pale corduroys. The snow was undiminished but beaten back; nice shoes could survive, if they weren’t too nice or didn’t have to go too far. Wool dress pants could hold off the still-brutal cold for a block or two. Where the salt and sun were strong enough, there was even some liquid water. Sherman Square had gone unshoveled, and inside its triangular fence was nothing but snow with a few hard-pruned sticks of shrubs sticking out of it. The wind came into the apartment lobby hard enough to shake the elevator doors and make the sensor open them again.