soft, winter hands

Every fall I marvel at how hard my hands have become after a season of handling dock lines, halyards, sails, sheets, and countless bottle caps.

Today as I cleared pounds of ice-hard snow from the cockpit and side decks, I couldn't believe how soft my hands had become. I mean, real, real English teacher soft. Like calf's leather. I believe I once even used the word "ouch." I mean, seriously, what kind of word is that for a cold-blooded, salty, old seadog like myself? To even think it!?

Might be a tough spring.