Frost crystallizes it's way up towards the center of the windows.  Cold, stagnant air hovers over the North Shore.  Ice now slowly forms on the lakes of the Quetico/Superior Border Country.

Light barely pierces the trees along the eastern horizon.  The dog slumbers in front of the wood stove; warmed only by the spent coals from last night's inferno.  The baby has been up for hours.  At this time she is content lying between us flailing her petite arms and cooing; eager for the upcoming day.  I slowly stir, roll to my back and allow my eyes to calibrate.  The air is chilled.  I find comfort under the down blanket that envelopes our family.  There is, however, incentive to getting up and embracing the limited light.  Winter is near but has not fully gripped the north woods.  This leaves me the opportunity to further my firewood ambitions.

Stretching my chilled limbs I shuffle my way to the wood stove, stir the coals, place some birch bark and kindling on the smoldering embers, open the draft and wait for the warmth to waft it's way throughout the cabin.

Now finding my stride I stroll to the tea pot, fill it and put it over a high propane heat.  Coffee ground and in it's filter I warm a wash clothe and stir the smiling baby.  Penelope usually has a lot to say at this point in the day.  Perhaps she needs to tell me about all of her colorful dreams?  Today is no exception.  She babbles as I wash, change and dress her.

Baby content, coffee brewed, stove churning; I step outside.  The thick air stings my nostrils.  The dog sniffs around.  The sky is crystal clear.  A warm rising sun illuminates the understory.  Black capped chickadees pluck around on balsam limbs.  Sap suckers chuck away at a dead birch left on the upper edge of our clearing.  A crow noisily fans his way just above the tree line.  In the distance a deer hunter sends a salvo.

Time to get to work...