Pretty, but not worth it.

The ice has descended. And if you had the absolute displeasure of walking through the Gates of Hell over the weekend, you experienced the equivalent of a perfectly Zamboni’d ice rink instead of the familiar Middle Path gravel. I was slowly shuffling north through the Gates of Hell one evening, and heard a sickening crack behind me. The familiar sound of someone crashing to the icy ground resonates all too well, and I knew how he would be feeling that in the morning. Continue reading →