Friday morning I awoke in a world of castles and cobblestone streets. This is not Spain, but its little American child: St. Augustine, my home away from home, away from home. Open windows and a cool 70 degree breeze tickling my face lured me out into the world bright and early. It was one of those mornings so glorious, your only desire and purpose on this earth is to live each moment you encounter to its most enjoyable potential.
On days like this, breakfast becomes something you no longer have, but something you do. Your feast in the light of the morning sun might consist of pumpkin pancakes, steels cuts oats drizzled with agave and mixed with pecans, strawberries and goji berries, and coffee you purchased at the cafe around the corner.
Nothing else could possibly put a bigger smile on your face, except for the thought of the day to follow.