I awoke only a few Sundays ago to the most glorious sound there can be on a wintry morning when you have no place in particular to be - rain. Rain falling steadily on a dark and chilly morning, the ever-earlier morning light held at bay just a little longer by the heavy grey clouds above. Mornings like these can be few and far between in our climate and tend to feel so very special when they happen to fall on a day of rest.
Silently rolling out of bed, I tip toe into the kitchen with bare feet on cold tile, gently shaking off the fog of sleep and feel it tumble almost imperceptibly from head to shoulders and into the aether. All is soft and quiet as the coffee brews and the tea steeps and I smile a silent, sleepy, eyes-closed smile all to myself before stifling a yawn with warm hands quickly turning cold.
A splash of milk and a stir of the spoon, with two taps on the lip of each cup both out of habit and for good measure.
Hands are cupped around warm flame as I light a candle or two. For this particular breed of early bird, there is nothing quite so heartening as candlelight in the early morning shadows. In the flickering light my thoughts venture only as far as what to do next - get back into bed - and what will be for supper - Beth's stuffed pumpkin which, by the way, was so nice I made it twice.
A slow Sunday, I think, is just the ticket. And more of that heavenly rain, please and thank you.
Rain gif via Tasha Marie