Keep the Coffee Comimg

The sky is lighter. It rained all day yesterday, last night and into this morning, but the rain has slowed, become softer and quieter. It is still warm, 62°. Showers are predicted for tonight. Oh joy!

I remember mornings in fall when there was a frost. I’d wake up to find the windows in my bedroom had frost on the lower halves. I used to write my name in the frost with my fingernail. The grass had a layer of frost, but it was more wet than icy. Walking on it left footprints. The frost would disappear as the day warmed. It wasn’t yet heavy duty cold so no layering. I’d wear a jacket with a sweater underneath and mittens on my hands. I loved those mornings. The summer haze had disappeared. The air was crisp and clear. Everything looked highlighted, bright in the light of the sun and the first stirrings of fall.

When the mornings were chilly, my mother often made us a hot breakfast. I remember the oatmeal. It was the old-fashioned kind which always seemed to have a few lumps. I’d cover the cereal with sugar and then add milk. The sugar even made the lumps tasty. Cocoa was my morning drink. My mother made it with half milk and half hot water. Bubbles were always on the top of the cocoa. My mother made tea in a ceramic pot and put it in the middle of the table. My brother drank the tea. They’d be toast cut in half and slathered with butter. We were fortified for the walk to school on a chilly morning.

After daylight savings time we mostly stayed in the house after school. The darkness came early. We’d watch TV and wait for supper. My mother would have started cooking supper already. On the stove, the peeled cut potatoes boiled. The meat was cooking sometimes in the oven and other times in a pan on top of the stove. The last piece was the canned veggies opened and put in a pan to heat. My favorite meats were ground beef in gravy and meatloaf frosted in mashed potatoes. I loved just about every vegetable my mother served except maybe the carrots. She’d mix them with the mashed potatoes. I didn’t ever realize they were carrots. She lied.

This entry was posted on November 7, 2026 at 1:17 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.