
We’re a few weeks into March, the month that brings back the spring season. But once the sun sets, it’s still bitterly cold here in New York City. When I get up tomorrow, it’s going to be 36°F. That does not say “spring” to any sane soul. Even in our spectacularly intrepid city, few are out in shorts and tank tops in the evenings sipping prosecco. We’re just not there yet!