I am walking out of 15th street station by Centre Square in Philadelphia, and a woman coming up beside me remarks on her phone, “Oh, my God– it is a gorgeous day. It’s almost like everyone went to sleep, and when we all woke up the city is just prettier.”
The wind is not blustery as yesterday. Billy Penn, standing atop his high clocktower, can be seen much more clearly, the sun shining on his bronze statue under a streak-less sky. People seem to be ambling around Dilworth Park, rather than racing to find shelter from a rainy overcast. I wouldn’t think twice about the on occasion, beautiful November afternoon. And talking about the weather is usually so banal. Yet there was something about this Wednesday, the 7th, that made even the weather worth noting. The city had a sparkle.