These wool socks almost witnessed the end of my toes. One winter, my sister and I had been playing in the snow for hours. The kind of playing where you forget you’re cold because you’re having too much fun. At some point my boot fell off, and I stepped straight into the snow before shoving it back on and running off again. No big deal…or so I thought. Later, our parents took us on what felt like the longest snowmobile ride in history. By the time we got back, my wet wool sock had practically frozen solid. I remember the pain in my foot being absolutely unbearable, but now it’s the way that day has lived in family stories ever since. These socks are a badge of honor for surviving the Up North cold.