It rained all night last night–hard rain. Cold rain. Pounding against my window. And judging by the tangle of bedsheets, I’d say it was as fitful inside as it was outside. The mountains were hidden by clouds this morning which means only one thing.

The snow is on its way.

But I love days like this–cozy and gray. These are the days I putter. A quiet little house mouse shuffling around in slippers and a robe.

It took forever to unearth myself from my bed today. I was too warm and happy wrapped up in blankets and daydreams.

But, I finally made it downstairs. And it seemed a perfect day for oatmeal laced with cinnamon–and a generous helping of Frit‘s blueberries (but don’t tell her, let’s keep that between you and me).

I love the way the purple juice seeps from the berries as it mixes with the heat from my oats. It’s such a comforting color amidst the shadows of a cloudy day. Finding color in unexpected places is one of the simple joys of life, I’m certain.

Another color I love? The orange glow of the stove-top light. In the morning, particularly on mornings like this, it’s the only light I’ll turn on. It’s almost like a kind friend, easing you into a new day, guiding you from dark to light.

Sometimes if I can’t sleep, I’ll come downstairs, turn on that lamp, make some tea, and lay on the couch. And I always fall right back to sleep. Perhaps there’s something safe about its glow.

The rain continued to fall all morning, as it does now–pattering on the rooftop in cadence with my fingers on the keyboard. And I just took a turn to inspect the garden. The basil took an awful beating last night. I’ll need to make pesto soon or an entire bush will have grown for naught.

Wouldn’t that be sad? To grow and flourish but never become what you were meant to become, because you never did what you were meant to do? That’s heartbreaking to me.

It might be time to retire the fire-pit to the shed too. Although a few nights of roasting mallows and dogs might be in order before the real snow falls.

It’s so cold though, even my little garden gnome looks a bit corpse-like today. Poor guy. He’s got to be freezing.

But not me. I’m wrapped up in Grandma’s afghan, listening to jazz on the iTunes (which, if you didn’t know, is the perfect soundtrack for days like this), perfectly content, tickering through the list of to-dos. And I’ve decided that if I can get five “must-do” things done this morning, then I can take the rest of the day to curl up by the rain-streaked window with a delicious book in hand.

I do so love Fall in Utah.