Eat my winter words

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By now it’s more than obvious to most of the American East Coast, but in spite of last week’s balmy temperatures, winter is far from over here! After about 12 hours of travel and rerouting and delays, we got back from Canada yesterday to find NYC buried in snow.

There wasn’t much snow up north, but boy, was it cold. That meant plenty of skating if you could stand to be outside, and also plenty of pond hockey that I enjoyed watching from the safety of a nearby bonfire. It was a very impressive operation… there was even a makeshift Zamboni on a tractor to smooth the ice between games.


Other impressive cold weather feats: the SUV parked on ice — I wasn’t there to see it get on or off, alas — and the massive ferry (we were in Wolfe Island, off the coast of Kingston, Ontario) that lumbered through the frozen St. Lawrence river every hour. All in all, a lovely winter weekend!


One thought on “Eat my winter words

  1. Hi Leah,

    Speaking about eating winter words and pond hockey, Bruce Valley, author of the new book “Seahawk: Confessions of an Old Hockey Goalie,” was playing in the tournament on Wolfe Island last weekend.

    For those who are crazy about pond hockey, black ice, and old timey ice hockey teams, I suggest that they pick up a copy.

    Dave Bidini, author of “Tropic of Hockey” and “The Best Game You Can Name,” compares Valley’s efforts to that of two legends of the hockey book world: “A fine literary descendant of Jack Falla’s Home Ice and Peter Gzowski’s The Game of our Lives. Like any good hockey book, it teaches us more about the world than hockey itself.”

    Btw, we also love those bonfires. ) )

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