Can’t go south? Go north instead

n my youth, a winter visit to the cottage was an infrequent adventure. Our place was at the end of a mile-long road that in those days saw no plow. The snow—there was more of it then, right?—came early and stayed late. Visiting meant walking through at least knee-deep drifts. And, since the place wasn’t winterized, we never stayed long. Just a look