Winter in Wisconsin. For me there isn't anything quite like it. Snow, ice, bitter cold winds. Man I miss home. Oh did I mention this IS home? I miss Wisconsin so much that I look forward to Christmas, not so much for the season as it's one of two times each year that I head to the great north woods for some fun and relaxation. I make it a point to turn off my cell phone kick back and relax with some fishing and absolutely no work.
Fishing? In the middle of winter you ask? Yep. Fishing. Not from a boat, but through the feet thick ice on the reservoir that my parent's home is on. It used to be a small rustic cottage. Three tiny bedrooms, a sitting room and a kitchen with a single bathroom and cold running water. I still fondly remember when my grandfather put in the very first gas hot water heater and a little shower stall in the pump house. HOT WATER! Man that was living! So many good memories!
Of course it wouldn't be the same without family. In particular, it wouldn't have ever been the same without my cousin Julie. The two of us had always been close, able to talk about anything. For reasons I may never understand, that friendship turned physical, not just one time when we were young, but again only a few short months ago. When I left her the last time it was with the hope that she would come down and collect on a very special loan, her red lace panties. But like many desires, it wasn't to be. I kept expecting her to show up. I had all sorts of ideas about how we could spend a few days. But days turned to weeks turned to months and she didn't come, didn't call, only returned a few cryptic text messages, and then our time ran out. My wife returned from her overseas trip and any hope I had of extending our all too brief physical relationship was gone.
Yeah, I know. I was cheating on my wife with my first cousin. Not particularly a good thing to do. I suppose we just let our past feelings cloud our judgement. I hadn't expected it to happen. Didn't exactly plan on it happening. It just did. And it would remain one of my most closely and fondly held secrets. On the drive up north I wondered how we would react, Julie and I, when we saw each other again. Part of me really wanted to see her again, and part of me...well...didn't.
But it was Christmas and family time, hence the trip to the great white north! We pulled into my folk's place, now a beautiful two thousand square foot home built around that old rustic cabin. If you knew where to look you could still make out where the outline used to be. What was once the only bathroom is now the laundry room, and instead of a door, as kind of a memorial to the old cabin, one single bamboo sliding curtain separates the laundry from the hallway. As I walked past it carrying in our luggage, my mind suddenly wondered if it was the same curtain I watched Julie's shadow on as she undressed so many years ago.
With several loads of suitcases and duffels of winter clothing hauled in, we closed the doors to keep the cold out and enjoyed the warmth of family after the nine plus hour drive.
Morning broke and instead of the sun's tantalizing reflection dancing on the ceiling from the lake, a steady bright glow filled the room as the sun bounced off the snow covered ice. I pushed back the curtain and looked out. Little wisps of icy crystals whipped and swirled as the nearly zero degree wind rearranged the tiny snowflakes spread across the ice. Yeah, it was a long drive to come see some real winter. Missouri just didn't cut it when it came to winter. Oh, don't get me wrong, we do see snow from time to time, and even the rare white Christmas, but it's just not the same. No, this was real winter!
I dressed and headed down to the kitchen from where I could smell coffee and bacon, gave my mom a hug and sat down at the table to look out over the frozen landscape while she cooked breakfast. My wife soon joined us, already bundled up in heavy pants and a sweatshirt. For some reason she just never really could embrace the cold snowy weather, but she never wanted me to miss out, and came with me on every trip, except the very few when she was sent out of the country by our less than thoughtful government. No, while this was home for me, it was just someplace she put up with.
After breakfast I made a quick trip to the local gas station for some bait, an assortment of fresh lively minnows, all of which were destined for the cold icy depths of the lake, though they didn't know it yet. Winter had been good and cold, and it was reported that the lake had anywhere from a foot and a half to two feet of ice on it, depending where you were, and thankfully, the fish had been biting.
Now for the uninformed, it is possible to fish through the ice, and no, we do not saw long slots in the ice to cast lures like we would in the summer. We find the spots that we expect the fish to move across, drill holes and drop lines down the holes and wait patiently, very very patiently for the fish to swim by and notice our bait. No, it isn't nearly as productive as summer fishing where you can cover so much more territory, but the fish also act differently. The cold water slows their metabolism and they move lethargically slowly. The trick is to be good at figuring out where the bigger fish will be and put your bait there. In many ways it's a tougher way to fish than in the summer, but I love doing it both ways.
Bundled up I drove out onto the ice with my ATV, drilled my allotted three holes, set my lines and then retreated to my portable shanty and the little propane heater, settling into the relative comfort of the near freezing temperatures in the shanty compared to the almost zero degree temperatures outside, not to mention the twenty plus degree wind chill.
From where I sat in what was little more than a tent with a hard plastic bottom, I could see my three tip-ups, each with their line leading down through the ice into the cold depths, and also the second house on the old property, the one that now belonged to my cousin Julie. When my grandparents passed, the land at the lake was split, my parents getting the old cottage and half the property, my aunt getting the other half where she built their vacation getaway. Why my dad and my aunt never got along was a mystery to me. I always found my aunt to be kind and welcoming. As she aged and couldn't afford the taxes and expenses, Julie bought the place, but according to my mom, rarely had time to get up any longer. She said it was just luck that we connected this last summer. Of course she had no idea of just how much we connected, and never would.
"No one will." I muttered to myself as I looked at the front deck of her place and the little shower head plumbed on one side. I couldn't help but remember making love to her, standing under that little shower, stroking my hard cock into her over and over until we both came in the moonlight. "Just another memory." I whispered a little sadly. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife very much, and what Julie and I share is...well, different. Maybe it's the forbidden nature of what we feel, or the fact that we've enjoyed each other so few times in our lifetimes. I don't see what I feel for Julie as a threat to what I have with my wife, but it is none the less real. Julie has a VERY special place in my heart, but it doesn't crowd out what I feel for my wife. No, I have every intention of getting old with the woman I love, the one that puts up with the winter cold to humor me. Yeah, she's a great woman. Not that it's always been a rose garden. Well, maybe it has been. Just like any rose garden it has its share of thorns, but in general the beauty of the blooms more than make up for it.
I hadn't caught anything by lunch time, so I pulled in my lines and drove the ATV off the lake and up to the cottage, yeah I know, it isn't a cottage any more, even though I call it one, for some lunch.
"Any luck?" My wife askes with a smile as I walk in, still bundled in four layers of heavy clothing.
"Nope. All quiet right now." I answered as I started peeling off my heavy coat, vest, insulated coverall, heavy boots, scarf... well you get the idea. I headed to the bedroom and peeled off my heavy pants and thermal long underwear before pulling on a pair of jeans and heading down to have a sandwich.
The afternoon was a repeat of the morning, with the exception of a couple small fish. Hours of sitting and waiting for the little flags to pop up, indicating that there was a fish on the line, broken up by frequent trips walking from hole to hole to scoop out the ice that inevitably builds up as the water in the hole tries to freeze back.
The evenings in the winter are different. Family is the order of business on the holiday. Sitting around catching up with my parents or my nephews and their families as they come to visit. We'd often play cards or other games to pass the time, and have fun, while the cold winter winds whipped across the snowy landscape, unheard and unfelt inside the house. Tonight was one of those nights. Visiting with my nephew and his wife, playing some silly card game and generally having a fun time.
