It is a chilly and rainy Sunday morning. I’ve always loved slow rainy days, the low white clouds draped over the mountains, the muted colors that’s makes everything feeling like it’s a painting, the light screen of rain that you can’t quite see, can’t quite hear but can see the evidence of it in the glossy wetness of the ground.

I initially planned to write this while sitting on the porch but the air is a little to crisp for me this morning. Instead, I am sitting in my favorite indoor spot, on my couch by the window. I sit my coffee on the windowsill next to my Pothos plant and sometimes stare off to the trees of the neighboring house which makes me feel like I’m staring off into the woods.

I wanted to climb out of bed early, while the morning was still new. I dreamed of sitting on the porch, laptop on my lap, steaming coffee beside me, rocking in my rocking chair and I writing about the scene. My daughter, However, woke up wanting to nurse. when she went back to sleep, I tried to ease out of bed only for my husband to wrapped his arm around me and asked where I was going. I laid back down with a chuckle bidding my time until I could make my escape.

By the time I got out of the bed the early morning magic had dissipated but it was still a cozy morning that begged to be filled with creativity and tasks that nourishes your spirit. So here I am with some warmed up left over coffee, my electric fireplace humming, blinds up to let in the soft watery light, sipping coffee and thinking about thankful I am to be able to have this quiet simple moment.