Closed for the Season

It's what we do here in  winterland -- we hibernate; bundle up; snuggle in and shut down -- or at least we try to. Hubby bribed dragged me out of our cave with promises of treats from the German deli. After sampling more samples than I ought to - but chocking it up to maintaining that layer of insulating fat we so desperately need to survive in the wild, we took a stroll on the boardwalk. Dr Doolittle chatted with the geese who had decided to forgo their trip south dummies and apologised to them for not having bread to share. And we wonder why they don't migrate...

The temps dropped to -12 C, confusing the creeks -- freeze or not to freeze -- and plunging us head on into our frigid winter, bypassing any fashion of acclimatization. It's not unlike having a bucket of cold water dumped on you without warning. I barely exchanged my umbrella for the ice scraper and snow brush but being the contingency planner that I am -- I was indeed prepared. Hubby was my willing partner in crime as I insisted braving the breeze off the lake to snap some "cold" shots - that is until the battery in my camera succumbed to the cold and my fingers lost all sensation. I took this as a sign to retreat to the cave, but only after replenishing all lost calories with a trip to the fish and chip shop.

After a four-hour duck into my Pop's place to roll his last three years and 600+ blog posts tidily into hardcover books and a glass or two of his finest fermented grapes, I am once again back in the cave, content and sufficed, bundled up and snuggled in and ready to shut down. Cause that is what we do here in winterland.