Lower Garden Snow - New Orleans Painted White
A lone New Orleanian pushes through the white-out on Prytania Street
New Orleans, Louisiana
Photographs and text by Just Gonz
Lower Garden Snow - New Orleans Painted White
I was living in the Lower Garden District of New Orleans, doing consulting work for a hotel group, when I heard there was a blizzard headed for the city. My first reaction was simple: WTF?! I’ve lived in New York for most of the last twenty years. I’m used to snow—honestly, I kind of love it (I’m a snowboarder). But snow in New Orleans? That sounded like a dare from the weather gods.
Talking with locals about the coming storm, I got a split-screen of reactions: disbelief from some, deep concern from others. The concern made sense. Folks here know the city’s infrastructure isn’t built for winter, and the memory of Katrina still rides in the bones of the place. You can tell who lived through it by how they treat a red light when the streets are empty—it becomes a stop sign. In the weeks after the hurricane, with power out across the city, people learned to manage intersections that way. It became muscle memory.
First peek outside: parked cars swallowed in snow while a neighbor explores the streets.
I don’t own a car, and my office was a ten‑minute walk from where I was staying. I heard out my friends’ warnings and still felt that kid‑on‑a‑snow‑day energy uncurling inside me. It was going to be a once‑in‑a‑lifetime kind of weird: a blizzard in New Orleans. The city had seen snow before—Christmas Eve 2004, and again on December 11, 2008—but nothing like what was being forecast. Depending on whose history you read, the last time New Orleans saw anything comparable was back in 1895. The exact totals from the 19th century are debated, but many accounts point to around ten inches citywide in that storm. WWL-TV+2The Heart of Louisiana+2
Then the day arrived—January 21, 2025—and the air got that familiar hush that only people who’ve known real snow will recognize. I smiled like a kid as I peeked through the blinds and watched white fluff gather on the sidewalks and the parked cars. Once the flurries thickened, I grabbed my camera and stepped out. Of course I had to document this.
Prytania and Felicity turned snow globe—live oaks, traffic lights, and street art fading into the flurries.
Prytania Street was nearly empty—two strangers, a few cars crawling past—and the falling snow kept nudging at my lens, demanding constant wipes between shots. Wind in my face, fingers stinging, I felt that mix of joy and focus I’ve only ever found in storms. The city’s colors dimmed to a quiet palette, the oaks bowed under new weight, and for an afternoon the Lower Garden District looked like a dream someone smuggled in from up north.
The numbers tell their own story. Across New Orleans, measurements landed between roughly 8 and 10 inches, depending on the neighborhood and the gauge. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration logged the city’s snowiest day on record for the official site (dating to 1948) at about 8.0 inches, while other outlets reported 9.5 inches in Mid‑City and rounded to 10 inches citywide—close enough that many locals started talking about a tie with 1895. Whatever line you prefer, it was historic. climate.gov+2FOX Weather+2
A live oak and a grand façade share the same winter coat, New Orleans architecture blurred by falling snow.
Statewide, the storm broke other firsts: the National Weather Service’s Lake Charles office issued Louisiana’s first‑ever blizzard warnings as whiteout conditions raged to the west. New Orleans, meanwhile, sat under a heavy, steady snowfall that shut the city down—schools, businesses, even the streetcars paused while officials asked everyone to stay off the roads. Highways closed, flights were delayed, and the usual thrum of the Crescent City fell to a muffled whisper. AP News+2Verite News+2
It took time—longer than anyone wanted—for crews to scrape and salt and for the sun to do its slow work. Walking those quiet miles, I kept thinking about how beauty and vulnerability can arrive in the same breath. New Orleans, a place that sings in heat and humidity, suddenly wore a winter coat that fit almost too well. It was eerie and gorgeous at once.
A couple and their dog inch down Prytania past half-built porches and a snow-caked dumpster, the street all but theirs.
Sidewalks erased: just a narrow path of footprints threading between buried cars and sagging, snow-heavy branches.
The Blackbird Hotel glows against the storm, gas lantern burning over the porch and steps covered in a fresh drift of snow.
The morning after, I retraced my steps along Prytania. The snow had rounded the edges of everything: curbs, porches, the intricate ironwork that makes this neighborhood feel like a storybook even on normal days. I don’t know how long I’ll remember the exact weight of the air, but I won’t forget the sound—a soft, generous silence that let the city rest.
Here are some shots from the day after.
The morning after, a single plowed lane cuts through rows of sleeping cars as a neighbor tests the thaw.
Henry Howard Hotel in a season mash-up—Mardi Gras colors hanging above a quiet blanket of snow.
Early light, early walk: a New Orleanian and their dog cross Prytania, fire hydrant wearing its own snowcap.
With sidewalks still icy, neighbors claim the center of the road, strolling beneath arching oaks and rows of buried cars.
Notes, context & history:
— When: The event peaked on January 21, 2025, with New Orleans recording its snowiest day on the official site since records began in 1948. Neighborhood measurements ranged higher, with Mid‑City around 9.5 inches and many reports citing ~10 inches across parts of the city. climate.gov+1
— State firsts: The first blizzard warnings in Louisiana were issued that day (for parts of southwest Louisiana), while New Orleans experienced disruptive but non‑blizzard conditions—historic here all the same. AP News
— Closures: Schools, government offices, businesses, major roads, and streetcars largely shut down until conditions improved. Verite News+1
— Prior snows: New Orleans saw rare snow on Christmas Eve 2004 and again on December 11, 2008 (generally 1–2 inches). The city’s 19th‑century benchmark storm is 1895, often cited around 8–10 inches, though precise totals from that era vary by source. WWL-TV+2The Heart of Louisiana+2
If you’re reading this from somewhere that knows winter by heart, trust me: it hits different here. And if you’re from New Orleans, you already know—this city can make even snow feel like jazz.