the comfort of grey…

So often I hate the grey of winter…The cold, colorless light that coats the world in a monochrome blanket. . .it’s energy sapping, life sucking. . .melancholy.
Not this morning. The grey (always with an “ey” for me, it’s an appearance thing) is comforting, somewhat inviting. me the option to linger in the back room with a cafe au lait (I’m so glad I’ve started pulling the espresso machine back out on weekends, even if it is just to froth milk). . .the warmth of Ryan Adams’ voice. . .the comfort of my own words, spilling out into the ether (for once recorded/captured rather than left to wander away).
Saturdays are bliss when I take the time to start my day alone:) Doing what I want to do instead of what I always feel I have to do (grocery, gym, laundry, cleaning). . .starting my day with comfort. . .warm, grey comfort:)



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