Our old apartment in NY was on the eighth floor at the rear of the building. It was not a "view" apartment, but (due to the fact that the Bigass Apartment Building Down the Block had bought up the airspace rights for the two lots immediately behind it in order to build up, and was therefore enjoined from building anything on the lots behind our building) we had a fifty block view. There was something really magical about looking down from our South-facing windows to see the roofs of the brownstones and the trees on 94th Street dusted and laced with snow, the cars buried in snow, the 50-block view hazed and softened with snow. It was always fun to slog along the two blocks between our house and Central Park, find a hill and slide down it (with or without the kids) and watch my urban neighbors get boggled by the fact that Nature
has happend to them (you know what turkeys do in the rain? New Yorkers are similar in snowstorms: mouths open, looking upward, astonished). If I didn't feel like dealing with the cold, stay in, drink hot chocolate, and look out that window.
There are 22.8 inches of snow in Central Park today. I miss my view.