Posted by:  7:20 PM CST

It froze hard overnight. Morning sky was bright with stars; east horizon turning pale, a springtime sky. But the air was cold, a late wintertime chill. The day prior had been mild; evening brought drizzle. Bare ground took the rain and turned to mud. On the lakes the top surface was (more)

Posted by:  12:05 PM CST

I find myself drawn, inexplicably, to late season ice. I do not know why. I am not comfortable on ice. Anxiety rules; stress tightens my gut. Yet I seek late winter ice. Used to be I ended my ski season on lake ice. I’d ski a big lake studded with ice (more)

Friday 10 March 2017
Posted by:  5:54 PM CST

In the old days there were Friday Night Fights. Grainy TV and two boxers in the ring; a square of canvas reality bound by rope as if the intent was to confine within the boundaries the energy and mayhem of those inside. Two boxers; a fixed arena; slugging it out. At (more)

Friday 17 February 2017
Posted by:  7:23 PM CST

I look at the weather forecast with a sense of foreboding. It looms as something not quite real, ethereal and dark like a thin edge of storm cloud etched dark on the horizon. It is unsettling as a sound in the dark of night. That’s all a forecast is, really: (more)

Posted by:  12:03 PM CST

I’ve been fighting a cold. It’s not a big deal. I don’t want to sound whiney. My nose is stuffy; I feel clumsy; I nod off in the chair at night, wake with a neck-snapping jerk, think to myself, “It must be 10, 10:30 at least.” Look at the clock; (more)

Posted by:  11:31 AM CST

There is no cold like the first cold of January. January cold is pure and real and piercing, searing and deep. January cold is the real cold of winter and when it comes all pretense falls away; winter is here and it is here to stay. The cold of what, two, (more)

Thursday 22 December 2016
Posted by:  11:41 AM CST

December morning; clear and cold. Eastern sky holds a liar’s sun: It promises warmth but will not deliver, not on this day. I open the door and let the dogs out. Then I pull it shut, tight against the cold. Fenway, he of 20 pounds and not an ounce of fat (more)

Friday 9 December 2016
Posted by:  11:45 AM CST

I light the propane camp stove and set the fry pan on the burner; three strips of bacon, and when they start to cook down I toss in some thin slices of steak, leftovers from last night. In a small, battered cast iron pan (one that I painstakingly cleaned and (more)

Posted by:  11:47 AM CST

The only sound was the sound of the wind. We heard it in the middle of the night in our restless sleep; a roar in the blackness, full of power and promise. It blew without pause in the predawn darkness, straight from the north, strong and with an attitude. We made (more)

Posted by:  11:49 AM CST

I hunted over the two dogs on a chill November day under a lowering sky that held portent of hard times to come. We pushed the thick stuff along the Wisconsin River, thickets twisted with tag alders and tangled with brush and fern. The dogs worked hard. We rested and then (more)