Winter is making what I am guessing will be its last stand today. When I looked out the window before I went to bed last night, a bit past 1:00, there was only a light dusting of snow on the street and our hedge. This morning, I woke up when Phil opened the bedroom curtains and commented, "Wow. Winter wonderland out there."
And so it is. Cloudy and snowy though it was this morning, our bedroom faces north-east, and our curtains and bedding are all blindingly white, so we didn't need the sun to fill the room with light. It was all so very cosy that it wasn't hard for me to go right back to sleep, feeling smug and happy. I only slept for another hour and a bit, though, before Flash managed to chivvy me out of bed to make breakfast.
I like Sunday mornings like the one we had today. Phil was playing with his new camera (although I took that picture with my own little snapshot camera) while I cooked, and our house felt very peaceful and warm. I baked a fresh loaf of honey-whole wheat bread last night, specifically because the toast it makes is so crunchily wonderful, and we had it with eggs, bacon and big portabella mushrooms, then we sat at the dining room table for a while and drank coffee and talked.
Now a lazy afternoon and evening stretch out in front of me, and other than a quick trip down to the shops, the only thing I have to do is decide whether I want to spend my time reading or knitting. Every Sunday should be like this.
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