In my four decades of New England winters I have learned one thing- the only cure for cabin fever is to get outside. I’m not talking a mad dash from car to steamy-windowed local cafe with its comforting sounds of milk frothing. I mean an honest-to-goodness, bundled up, embracing the elements walk, a nature walk in single degree temperatures with wind, a walk that will numb your face but warm up the rest of you. Call it exercise (your body does get an extra workout just trying to keep warm) call it communing with nature. I call it the last resort. After a string of cloudy, morose days of half-hearted walks, this morning dawned brilliantly sunny and, as if that wasn’t enough, sparkly! The trees looked as though they’d been set upon with glitter. Each branch was furred with good-sized ice crystals and the sun wasn’t melting anything soon. I took my camera out and tried to capture some of the dazzle. I’m a point and shoot kind of photographer, any cool angles are the result of my own contortions in the quest for the perfect photo. I bent, squatted, leaned, fell (not so gracefully) and skidded around on back and stomach. After an hour of truly communing with snow and ice my face and fingers were numb, my hat missing, my lungs maybe damaged from crystallization, but I’d made some crazy looking snow angels and my cabin fever was gone.