There are instant sports that pop up in the winter.
When you just add ice.
One I enjoy (in the absence of curling): driveway chipping; sometimes with a pickax, or an edger (my favorite tool, winter and summer), or sometimes my own (over)weight stamping around to expose the weak spots.
Once a season at least the weather is perfect. Last night was: started as rain, occasional squalls. Overnight it froze. The wind raged, too.
At 3 a.m. -- when I customarily waken for a few minutes these days (and if Simone is away, read; not this time) -- the wind sawed limbs loudly back and forth. Our house flinched. "Perfect: high winds, icy branches. Goodbye, power," I said under my breath.
We escaped. If any goddess or god deserves blessings for this particular power in-age, understand: you have mine; full, spread, with due diligence 'n' due respect, far and wide as a royal imprimatur. It gets better: the "Original Jim" knows the Dropkick Murphys. "Want an autograph?" The band sang "I'm shipping up to Boston," on The Departed soundtrack; when all the cars race toward the final gun battle and Bad Nicholson dies. He's just the beginning.
That's "Highlander Jim" to you!
Posted by: Jim Rattray | January 29, 2009 at 09:15 PM