Unless you are from the northern Midwest or have watched Grumpy Old Men, you may understand the lure of writing in an ice house. I am alternating between taking my gloves on and off as I type, although it is almost balmy at 38 degrees. There is a front coming in. It’s quite possible that the fish will not be interested in the minnow-loaded jig reels floating in the augured holes on either side of my folding table. But, the view out the window is crispy white. Just a little while ago, two Girl Scouts stopped by in their four-wheeler, selling cookies. The only thing that would be better would be a steamy cup of black coffee. But, I will wait until we drive to the restaurant on shore for dinner.
So, here I am writing. After all, writing can be done everywhere, even on a frozen lake.
Where are you writing today?
Categories: Between the Lines: This Writer's Journal
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From A-Z
Author
Book Reader and Reviewer
Christian
Diligent
Editor
Faith-based
Giant-in-stature
Home Educator
Intuitive
Java-Enthusiast
Knitter
Labrador Retriever Owner
Mother of Three Boys
Note-Taker
Organizer
Poet
Quiet Moments (a rare commodity!)
RV Camping
Singer in Church Choir
T
U
Violist
Wife of My High School Sweetheart
X
Yarn-Lover (the wool kind and the story kind)
Z
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