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My first visit to New York City dates back to the eighties. It was a sweltering August with record humidity levels, yet I caught the bug: I fell in love with NYC and have been back a dozen times since. I came back in the summer and experienced thunderstorms of gigantic proportions. I came back in the winter and was stranded by a blizzard. Another time it was 2 feet of snow. And the following year -15F under cover. God only knows what the wind chill brought the temperature down to. Still I was under the spell.

And then I struck gold. I planned a trip at the beginning of March, fully bracing myself for a harsh Eastern Seaboard end of winter or mushy snow at the very least. I talked to my friend before flying out: he'd been snowed in all weekend by one of the worst blizzard of the season... As my plane landed at JFK, the skies were beginning to clear and the sun came out. As the week progressed temperatures started to creep up. We reached low seventies by Thursday, and suddenly you could feel the optimism in the city. Trees were starting to show signs of greenery and sunshades vendors lined up the streets of the East Village.
Luck was on our side and by the weekend the temperature hit the late seventies: we followed the crowds to Central Park for a day out to remember. The first day of Spring! Hard to predict as the calendar and weather are not always on the same page, but worth a punt: you will get to see the Big Apple at its shiniest and full of hope, the way it was meant to be. I love New York every day of the year but when Spring does its magic New York reacts as only New York can: with an impromptu parade in its glorious green heart.

Learn more about this author, Sophie Coolbaugh.
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