I used to live in this small town that celebrated winter, care about no other I have seen or heard, since I Left that town. They had a street fair, that was complete with an ice bar. When I say ice bar, I mean that it was made completely of ice. They didn’t need to put the drinks on ice, because they were already nearly frozen. There were ice sculptors showing their skills, on every street corner. They would check the lake to make sure the ice was thick. What they would do is set up a race course that went all the way across the lake. Kids would get into big bumper sleds and race down the hill, across the lake and into a field. At the end of the race course, they had hot chocolate and cookies. The race lanes were clearly marked so no one went off course. One year, the chilly snap hadn’t lasted long enough to be able to set up the ice bar and for the lake to freeze. They had immense freezers set up so they could get enough ice to make the bar and the ice sculptors, but the race was postponed for a week. I’ve got to be honest, that the most fun was inside the bar. The heating was turned up and you felt instantly warmed the moment you heard the furnace running. There was an air vent above the door when you walked in. A blast of heat hit you as you walked, chasing away the chills. I still raced beach house to feel the heating of our own home.