A friend loans me some snowshoes and I learn what our ancestors had discovered some 4,000 years ago. I float with ease across the snow, leaving a wake of large duck foot impressions behind me.
Snowflakes were so big that even a 3 year-old atop his dad’s shoulders could throw back his head and catch them in his mouth. It’s the closest I’ve come to feeling the tranquility of life inside a snow globe.
The “brutal” bridge had always been common ground – literally, but also figuratively. A space of mutual complaint. The epitome of winter’s chokehold.
I had never ice skated wearing a helmet, shin guards, shoulder and elbow pads before, and I had certainly never worn a pair of breezers with a pad that once covered the tail bone of ...
When I was young and it snowed, my older brother and I became the Greatest Snow Architects Under the Age of 10. You may have heard of our greatness.