There is something precious about perfect blue-skied days that scares me. No matter how careful I am to hold on to the day, embracing the colours of the leaves and the fresh smell of the air, it never seems quite enough. In some ways I prefer grey drizzle, which I can enjoy liberally in boots and a cagoule, or wildly on a long rainy run, or quietly from the comfort of my living room.
These blue skies caught me unawares; I was anticipating a quiet and restful weekend at home after an exhausting first week back at university. I can't help but worry that this will be it; no more blue skies or fresh chilly breezes until March. But I am well-rested and ready for another exciting week. And we have walnut bread. And if the drizzle comes tomorrow morning I will run in it gleefully and enjoy the weather for whatever it might be.