An Open Letter

Dear Winter,

It’s true, 20 below keeps the riffraff away. So let me begin with a heartfelt thank you. You’ve been generous. At the risk of sounding ungrateful though… it is quite cold. The dog comes back whining after a pee cold. The kid gets a Slurpee headache walking to the truck cold. Maybe, you’ve done enough.

I’m not complaining mind you. I realize that folks used to overwinter worse than this in sod dug-outs; that women used to labor and deliver in eight by ten foot holes in a hill, while wind growled at the oiled leather door, and hapless men-folk paced grooves in the frozen dirt floor, menfolk who were busy measuring beans against the calendar and dividing by mouths. I am not complaining.

It might be time for a nice long break though, no? Knock off for a few months, head for the southern hemisphere? I’m just suggesting that you think it over. Take your time. Meanwhile, we’ll keep fishing the tailwaters, cleaning ice from the guides and swinging the maul. Everett needs practice stacking wood anyway.


A Frost-Bitten Angler

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