Waffles Aren't Magic. But Almost.

I usually save fancy breakfast (anything that isn't yogurt/fruit or cereal is a fancy breakfast) for the weekend, but the last few weeks have been especially long, trying and tiring.

This morning was a time for homemade waffles, smothered in syrup & butter. This morning was a time for raspberries in a pretty porcelain berry basket and quiet contemplation over pumpkin spice coffee in my owl mug. 

This morning was a time for slowing everything down to the point where I could look at it carefully, turning it over in my mind, giving each thing the careful consideration it deserves. 

This morning was a time for waffles. And they were darn good.