Sometimes it calls to me. In the early and quiet of a Saturday morning I get a little rumble deep in my belly. It can't be ignored, you see? It's there even before my feet hit the ground and I can still hear it over the chatter of the almost two year old in the next room over.
It doesn't say anything profound.
It simply says...
go to the bakery.
And so we do.
Bundled up and with umbrella in hand... we slowly walk down the wet sidewalk to our local bakery where we pick up a few treats to satisfy that rumble in the depths of one's belly.
It's a wonderful way to start a gray Saturday.
Something tells me Rhett may have felt that familiar rumble too.
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