On the western side of New Hampshire is a small village cluster that surrounds Lake Sunapee. We arrived at our modest lake side cottage in the tiny village of Georges Mills to discover that everything was frozen, including some water pipes and the lake. Winter, in all of its glory, had been found. It didn’t take us too long before we were out standing on the lake. This surreal (and slightly scary) feeling wasn’t new to me. I had done this many times before in Sweden (once, my host dad insisted on driving the car onto the lake). However, standing on a large, frozen body of water was still as exciting for me as the first time. I swear I kept hearing it crack. It was 4-6 inches deep, we were told. Thick enough to head out and ice fish. Instead we just walked, and skidded, and tried our very best to chase Taj the dog around without falling over.

Things I will remember about Lake Sunappe: the joy of cooking a simple meal in the kitchen for the first time in over a week, exploring the streets of New London, Wilmot, Andover and Potter Place, neatly piled fire wood against the red timber houses, drinking red wine on the lake as we rolled snow balls and the snow fell, the fire place at one of the local restaurants, watching movies in the cabin while it was storming outside, the weight of the snow on the leaves the morning after the storm, shoveling snow from the drive way, the endless amount of white.