Sunday Mornings and Blueberry Pancakes

Sunday morning is our favourite day of the week. The alarm clock takes the day off and we sink into our covers and each other a little bit longer than the other days. It has a completely different feeling than the rest of the week, slightly lazy and relaxed and warm. If I had a day to call my own, it would be Sunday.

When I was a kid I despised Sundays. Friday was the day to stay up late because Saturday was the day to sleep in my house. I never did though. Yet Sunday seemed to be on a clock that moved in double time and I could see the second hand moving two by two. Dinner would hit the table before I had time to breathe and I was getting ready for bed and school before I could blink.

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Buttermilk Pancakes

The snow is falling again. One after the other, each in rapid succession as if trying to catch the one ahead. The sound is a soft, gentle tap of rhythm and harmony. It's a prelude to something bigger and more meaningful. It's my signal that Christmas is finally here.

I dig the holidays. Say what you will but I love this season for the possibilities, the family gatherings and the food we'll share one too many times over the next few weeks. In a season of plenty, I can't get enough. I like to eat and this is the time of year our friends and family pull us in. Keep pulling.

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