Cold and frosty morning coffee muses.

The sun is just kissing the tops of the trees, my breath hangs in the frosty morning air, dissipating slowly as it cools. The temperature out in the backyard is 33°… frost sits on the grass like powdered sugar. I think fall has arrived.

The Sunday traffic is heavier than most Sundays, or else the sound is carrying better thru the cold, cold air. The neighborhood crows are far off this morning, just barely heard as they great the sun.

I sit, hooded as a monk, awaiting the warming rays of the rising sun. My stockinged feet numbed by the cold concrete porch. So seldom are these warm clothes needed this time of year. But, no complaint will pass my lips, this is the type of morning I live for. Brisk, bright… fall. The only thing missing is the color. But, a few more mornings like this and the colors will follow.

Bacon, eggs, and biscuits are calling my name. In order to enjoy them though I’ll have to go in and cook them…  Later.