The dark belied the late hour, but the flashes of lightening let me know that there was no need to get up and pull on my running clothes. Sweet Husband looked at me over the top of the small blonde head between us, "You first? Or me?"
"You please, I want to snuddle more."
He obligingly headed for the shower, as I spooned myself around the Kid, resting my cheek on his fuzzy, buzz cut hair. He spread out snow-angel style, sleeping so hard that I wondered how long it would last if I didn't eventually tickle his feet.
After several minutes, his dada came back.
"Hey buddy, do you want some applesauce and oatmeal for breakfast?"
He sat bolt upright, climbed out of bed, and exclaimed, "Yes, I do!"
With the Kid dropped at school, we parked half a block from the coffee shop. The rain was pouring off the store awnings, and I yelped when a particularly cold drop slid down the back of my sweater.
Once safely inside, we ordered hot drinks and two pastries. With 10 minutes to kill, we grabbed a table and the newspaper. The front door was propped open to let in the breeze. I skimmed an article about pre-schools, while Sweet Husband thumbed through the sports.
Mentally noting that I needed to tuck a big scarf in the car to use as head covering, I picked my way through the mud puddles to let out the chickens. I gently pulled the injured one off her perch in the shed before letting the others out of their coop in a mob.
They rushed for the shelter of the lean-to shed roof. I spread their food on the only dry spot of ground, and headed back into the wet to do a quick survey of the garden.
Happy for the water, the basil glistened up at me. Three drops of rain dangled in perfect symmetrical suspension from a three-beaned pod of purple hyacinth beans. The rain barrel gurgled full.
With blue-striped, wool socks on my feet, I took the remainder of my coffee upstairs, along with the work of the day--a ball of yarn and a pile of transcripts. Surrounded by tasks I love, I turned on a bedside lamp and settled in for a cozy day.