Six hours later I arrive at the cabin. I bring in a bag of clothes (extra boots, sweaters, thick socks, thermal underwear) and a bag of food (cereal, milk, lunchmeat, rye bread, canned soup, canned beans). I spend a half hour making the most ass-warming fire in the universe. I roast marshmallows and eat them with graham crackers and those miniature Hershey’s bars. The wind kicks up and snow begins to fly past the windows. I don’t care how bad the weather gets. Instead, I curl up on the sofa bed with a half-dozen blankets, a paperback by Wayne Mansfield, and I enjoy a few of the night’s hours reading.
The next day is everything I think it will be. A landscape of snow decorates the property and the lake is completely frozen over. I find a pair of snowshoes, bundle up in some flesh-warming c
