Ah, Saturday

I love French toast, myself.

The Story of Writing

Ah, a beautiful Saturday morning. Watching light grow in the sky while my French toast bakes, waiting for the aroma to call me back to the kitchen. *sigh*

Fall is truly coming. This morning, light did not gain any significance over the darkness until close to 7:00. That could have something to do with the storm – it is still overcast – but I don’t think it can take all the credit. To think it wasn’t that long ago when the sun was trying to blind me at 6:00 every morning.

Yesterday I was walking to my car when I met a surprise: fallen leaves a baked brown and crunchifying (process of becoming crunchy). Autumn is anxious. It refused to leave August untouched. August truly had some beautiful days reminiscent of September rather than the concentrated heat of a typical August day. It’s been lovely.

And this is lovely: sitting in…

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