For someone who spent many formative years in Southern California, saying that it’s counter-intuitive to walk out on a frozen lake is an understatement.
Tentatively at first…
Then a little more confidently.
Saturday night the skiers were hungry, so we made a feast.
Fun with wine glass and focus.
The house we were staying in had a few beautiful quilts on the walls.
Blue and yellow.
When it came time to make cinnamon rolls on Sunday morning, we realized we were short on butter, so I made a run to the cute little General Store, where they keep all their eggs in one basket.
The Swede made (what else) Swedish pancakes, which were suspiciously similar to crepes in appearance and deliciousness.
Grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
And French toast for breakfast on Monday. Happy Presidents’ Day, everyone!
Tomorrow is my birthday, and on Friday, weather permitting, I leave for Ireland for a week. I shall return with many pictures of wet green countryside…and, hopefully, the Cliffs of Insanity (pictures of the Cliffs, that is, not the Cliffs themselves. They wouldn’t fit in the overhead bin.)