It was snowing up here in Maine, where I'm awaiting the arrival of Kate (Oregon) and Sarah (Colorado) for Christmas. Only because I wasn't going to be shown up by a 23-year-old Mainer, Caleb Hill, I agreed to go ice fishing with him yesterday at the height of the "blizzard" (well, 8" and low wind is hardly a blizzard, but ....) and we did pretty well, catching and releasing a number of decent bass and brown trout. Best moment: Caleb, pulling an as-yet-unidentified fish up to the hole said, "it's shaking its head; that's characteristic of a brown trout". Literally 2 seconds later, he's tugged the fish out on the ice, and it's a brown trout. It's rare to see a prediction proved so profoundly true so quickly.
I'd rather be outside doing something than cooped up inside, which is why Maine is so much fun in the winter - Greenwich never gets enough snow to do much with, though there is frostbiting at the several yacht clubs in town, open to members and non-members alike, and that provides its own thrill - getting dunked in cold water, or even the fear that one will, adds just a frisson of excitement on otherwise-dull Sunday afternoons..
Go for it.