The decision to have a blizzard in the middle of New York City in the middle of the Spring was not only wrong — that is clear enough — but capricious. There was no need for it. The timing was inopportune, given that most everyone has put away his cross country skies and snowshoes. And the nature of the soggy snow itself was nothing to write home about. Even the freshly fallen flakes took on a gray pallor. This kind of snow could just as easily have been dropped in late December or early March.

We say this though we have long been in favor of snow. Large amounts of snow never bothered the Sun. Of snow, we have always taken view that the more of it the merrier. The notion that New Yorkers don’t like snow, or are inconvenienced by it, has always struck us as peculiar. It seems to us that when a big snowstorm hits the city the usual reaction of New Yorkers is to go out and play king of the mountain on a plowed up pile, or try for a schuss down Murray Hill. Or commute via cross country ski. Children pour forth into the streets where normally there are cars, and no one thinks a thing of it.

This snow fall, however, has been met with grim quietude. If we’ve spotted any children about, they’ve been kicking the ground in search of pavement. They have a grim look that says, I should be out playing but it’s too soggy and I have homework. The forecast last night was for the snow to disappear quickly enough so that our youngsters might have to go to school in the morning. So what’s the point of this snowstorm save inconvenience? The next time one occurs, it should be in winter, where it’s supposed to be.