•Minnowed martini • • •three ounces of gin or vodka •one martini glass •one rubber minnow- plastic/rubber (kitchen washed) bait •highball or cocktail glass How to make it ________________________________________ •in your cocktail glass pour three ounces of gin or vodka •add the rubber minnow •if after several martinis the minnow is gone- you gulped...add new minnow and slow down •if after several minnowed martinis your minnow starts to swim in the glass...its time for you to stop the cocktail hour and let the minnow rest

Three ladies

Three ladies at the grocery store were mulling over having to scrape frost off their windshields and lamenting that probably not to far distant they would be scraping snow. One chimed in that in four years, four years until she retired, she moves to Florida, all she would be doing is scraping sunshine off her windshield. She said it would be her last day -EVER- of snow. Thinking to myself, I couldn't imagine never living where there isn't snow. I finished bagging my potatoes and headed for my truck. Little sticky flakes were just starting to fall. Driving the back way home Two doe's darted across the road. I turned into my driveway, the yard looked sugar covered. I lit a fire in the fireplace. Not sure when I woke up, but the fire was out, so I went to bed. During the night it snowed, a lot. I woke up to beautiful. Trees were bent, branches were leaning. Yesterday won't be back until next spring. In one night, autumn was over. All my buildings had white thick pillows. My yard is so softly quiet. The dog prances about looking at me like what is this stuff. Chickadees scratched the snow out of the feed trays and started to hammer away at the sunflower seeds. The dog had had enough and wanted in. I wanted more so I booted up. I donned a northern Minnesota Woolrich tuxedo of red and black plaid. Topped it off with a stocking cap and ventured forth. I shoulda starting shoveling or plowing something but I decided to just go for a walk. Rabbits had hopped here and there and deer tracks tracked from my rose hips to the plum trees. I thought I'd follow a deer. It moseyed out of my yard, meandered through a balsam stand, and then due north to the power line. When it turned up the ridge, I left the track and headed for home. While I was plowing the driveway a neighbor pulled in to borrow a draw knife. We talked about how it looked like most of the other neighbor's wood piles looked pretty heavy this year and what a great deer season we had. He wondered how long until we'd have safe ice for fishing. We both thought this snow fall was perfect. Not too early, not too late, not too much and to have the storm come in on weekend made it fun and not work. I got done plowing, tucked in the final summer yard remnants, a garden hose and five solar lights. I filled the wood boiler and put away two duck boats. By days end in the dark, everything around me started to feel like winter. One more yard chore and my first winter day of snow would be over. While I was shoveling the deck, I suddenly remembered the three ladies. The trout whisperer