Just call me Pollyanna

I'd like to begin as if we are old friends; catching up over our weekly coffee in the quirky café on James Street or reading each other's personally black-inked, blue lined, white paper letters. I'm a bit of an old-fashioned romantic, an idealist - I guess you can call me a regular Pollyanna.

There's something decidedly mellow about the end of summer. There's that cool fresh feeling in the air where you know the sun has stopped spoiling you as it always does over the heart of the summer months and the trees show-off their array of golden earthy coloured pelts during Mother Nature's equivalent of New York Fashion Week - Autumn.

Today is one of those days. The sun has hidden behind the sheet of dense white-grey clouds - clouds daring to shower us with wet kisses - all the while weaning us from its warmth and preparing us for the winter months to come.

But I find that it's on these mellow cool days that a hot, frothy pick-me-up or two does the trick. My husband - and a Latté! What ever your pick-me-up, I hope it finds you when you need it most on your mellow day...

 

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