Ice fish

Last weekend was full of major winter sports. I went for a long river skate with my pal, which ended in us being served hot matte from the cult down the block, who set up a lovely little shack and a dryer fire to warm up cold strangers. The next day, me, my bro and my bestest co-workers had a fire of our own, and spent the next two hours downing beers while we slowly pressed a hole through the ice with the dullest hand auger known to man. Thank goodness my brother had a pickax. One foot down, and we could smell the salty brown river current waving up through the growing gap in the ice. We put a few lines down, and waited, laughing and soon visited by other river dwellers for the evening, before roasting a pizza on the fire and yelling.
Now they have opened the dam upstream, and the ice unstable. The fireplace has sunk half into the river. But the weather is changing, the sun feels warmer. There are signs of spring, and the thawing of crusty winter hearts and minds.