If you face a full weekend of work, you just don't have the same frame of mind early in the morning as you would if you were, say, facing a day of hiking. You move more slowly, deliberately. Indeed, you stay in bed longer if you can. Forget the rise at dawn type of wakeup. It's nearly 7:30 before I finally will myself out of bed and even then, I'm slow to focus on what has to be done. I glance outside, note that the frost was strong and enduring, I go out.
Cold, frosty cold, beautifully cold. Frost mutes every color, every rooftop.
The farmers out back left pumpkins in the field. Don't know why. They're frosted pumpkins this morning.
Frosted pumpkins, frosted farm tools tossed to the side.
Warm oatmeal, warm coffee in the sunroom.
After? Oh, don't make me say it. Work. Lots of it.
Fast forward to the evening. I made a supper that was too veggie healthy.
There's such a thing as a day that's too wholesome for words. Kind of like watching extra scenes of a movie that was already overly serious and staid. I can hope, I suppose, that tomorrow will be more punchy.