)
It was cold last week, though my heart is already preparing for spring. So one final nod to the magic of winter before we go. When I was 10 or 11 (so, 1985/86), the ponds across the city froze solid enough that we could play hockey on them safely for a period of about 10 days or so (two weekends, if I remember rightly). It set an expectation in me that has since been frustrated almost every single winter. Moments like this scene here keep me believing those days will come again. Of course they won’t, but the magic of it still haunts deeply.
