Looking from the apartment window at night, the neighboring cemetery is much brighter than usual. The wind is whirling around the corners of the building creating little white dust tornadoes. As far as we can see, Cambridge has remade itself into some Dr. Seuss land with clever rhymes and soft edges. All the sharp, adult angles of yesterday are now filled with the first snow of the season, and earlier in the day the kids rejoiced by flailing around in synthetic outfits that swished when they threw snowballs. It's our first New England snow and the indifferent Yanks must think we are crazy, two adults and a kid trying to ride a miniature snowboard down a small hill, drenched form head to toe, and wearing an clumsy array of newly acquired winter apparel. The only other people interested enough to be out in the snow are the band of dedicated citizens who, as a downside to their status as property owner, must brave the cold to shovel the snow from the sidewalks outside of their homes. Obviously, these people are less thrilled that Dr. Seuss has descended on the neighborhood than we are. Maybe we should offer to let them ride our snowboard.