For some strange reason, I am fascinated with snowshoes. Not the fancy modern aluminum ones. I like the old heavy hardwood ones, laced with rawhide and heavily varnished.
I am sure I’d reverse that opinion if I actually ever used snowshoes. In the winter I see many people walking with snowshoes on the pond behind our cottage.
When I do, I ask Charles to fix me a tall cup of hot chocolate, with whipped cream, so I can stand in this picture window, in my warm gathering room. I look at these snow-shoe folk and wonder what is going on in their minds to want to do that.