The fishing shacks are pretty much stuck in place with all the snow we’ve had, there are roads plowed to them so it feels like an odd sort of community out there on the wind strafed lake. I have walked out there a couple of times and been glad to put my back to the wind and head off the ice. Some years the shacks sit just on ice, which you can hear straining against itself, a rather eerie sound. Light or heavy winter it is cold place to be. I am leaning into spring at this point, time for the clock change to herald the return of (hopefully) warmer weather. I am glad I don’t have to un-stick a shack and pull it off the lake. In a few weeks once maple sugaring starts the number of shacks will diminish, just as the snowbanks will. The frost heaves will settle down and more potholes open up. Spring is a time of movement as hibernation ceases and migrations begin. And I will start listening for the peepers.