For one of the rare times in my life, I greeted the Weather Channel's shrill advisory that the nor'easter they'd named Benji was going to be the real thing with something approaching dread and go-somewhere-else annoyance bordering on horror. To be sure, I love winter storms, or, at least, I did in the many years before heart surgery left me, however temporarily, a kind of cardiac cripple. Yes, I can walk. I can carry wood. I can write and, if the lens is light, take pictures. In other words, I can do a lot of useful things. But one of my great joys of being in New England is that when it snows hard, I can grab a shovel and deal with just about any accumulation of the white stuff. Not these days... I guess I've become one of those folks who risk coronaries if they attempt to do what they'd be better advised to hire younger people for. Sigh... well, at least I can trek, and, before the snow got too deep, I was able to navigate into the heart of the nearby Bell Cedar Swamp refuge.