When the Snow Starts Flyin’

I woke up this morning to a world of white. It snowed a couple of inches last night, and the rather balmy fall we’ve had—it was 60 degrees on December 2—seems to be giving way to winter. In the past I would be putting on the heavy long underwear and some snow camo so I could head out and hunt geese or coyotes. But nowadays the magic of standing up to frigid temperatures has lost a lot of its luster. The plain fact is I don’t like to get cold anymore.

There are dozens of projects awaiting me in the shop. Many have little or nothing to do with hunting or shooting, but a lot of them are centered there. I just took a reluctant look at my handloading bench, and it doesn't look good. Throughout the more temperate months when I am outside the bench becomes a sort of catch-all space for spent cases, partial boxes of ammo, the odd tool or two and Lord knows what else. The rest of the shop isn’t much better, as stuff gets scattered and thrown about while my attention is focused on more pleasant activities than keeping the joint straightened up.

I have perhaps a half dozen serious handloading projects to undertake—and that may swell some after I attend the SHOT Show next month—along with several other smaller projects. There are four portable shooting benches that need to be made—one for me and three for my church’s Sportsman’s Retreat program.

But before I can tackle any of these tasks I need to clean things up and do some organizing. As you may gather, I look forward to doing that about as much as I would anticipate a root canal. So as much as I’d rather sit here sipping coffee and procrastinating, I’d better get off my sorry butt and get after it.

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