Rainy Day Cookies
It’s a soft grey day with misty rain outside; the fragrance of baking cookies inside.
The ceiling lights create pools of summer yellow in the kitchen. Grains of sugar sparkle and stray flour speckles the leaf green kitchen counters. The cookies are mixed except for the last ingredients: deep red dried cranberries, dark chocolate chips, toasted and chopped pecans, shaved white chocolate, soft golden raisins and caramel butterscotch chips.
The cookie pans are ready, dressed in crinkly beige baking paper. The oven beeps that it has reached the correct temperature for these decadent oatmeal cookies.
The kitchen floor is crunchy and gritty with ingredients I spilled. In the time I wait for cookies to bake, I wipe the floury floor and wash the sticky yellow bowls and bright red measuring cups.
The welcome, delicate scent of baking cookies fills the house.
He is outside in the chilly drizzle, raking the matted rust-coloured leaves from the bed of bright daffodils. He knows I love these flowers. Some of them are trapped under the blanket of leaves that we placed over them last fall, to protect the tender bulbs from winter’s icy touch. He is rescuing the sun-gold daffodils and getting himself, damp and chilled.
When he comes in, we’ll have steaming coffee and fresh, hot cookies by the fireplace.
We’ll sit, warmed and relaxed, comfortably reading on this soft grey day.