Rustic Vegetable Soup

When I was a kid I used to live at the hockey arena. I'm Canadian, it's our birthright. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and slide my skates through my stick, throw it over my shoulder and start walking towards the local outdoor rink. When the rickety caged fence would open up I'd be the first one through it. I would nod at the the gate keeper like I was on my way to to work. Once inside I would skate and play until my toes threatened to fall off.

I used to spend hours upon hours honing my skills and working on my game. Most kids dream of being a firefighter or policeman but in this country everybody dreams of being in the NHL. One day my dream would be crushed but that didn't stop me from spending the better part of my youth on a sheet of ice playing with strangers who quickly became friends.

It didn't matter how cold it was or how harsh the winds were, I would be there. You could set my $2 watch by it. My toque (yes, that's what we call a hat) would cling to my ears as if my bigger brother protecting me from the weather. I didn't care about the wind chill or frost warnings. I didn't care about anything back then. I had an ace in the hole.

A big pot of soup.
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