I’m a creature of habit.  On our annual cross-country ski weekends, I clamber out of bed at an absurd hour to get in a brisk morning ski before indulging in our sumptuous B&B breakfast.  My friend, Susan, prefers to nourish her artistic side, usually with her watercolor paints.

One year recently I was stymied by poor snow conditions and icy trails.  After a harry outing the first morning on slippery trails best left to the wildlife, I agreed to forgo my usual workout and accompany Susan to watch the sunrise instead.  Our B&B was perfectly situated near the shore of Lake Superior just north of Grand Marais.  And we were richly rewarded for our chilly morning camp out.

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