The blushing red leaves on the blueberry bush in my yard are finally starting to fall, battered by cold wind. They're clinging, though. Rebels against the yearly cooling. That's really how I feel. I'm just beginning to accept that sweaters are a THING that I need in the present moment. As in, I put on my first fuzzy sweater this morning without cringing (or pairing it with shorts, which we all know is only half-accepting that's it's killer cold outside). And I baked a bunch of things in the past two weeks (this, this, and  this).

So the ever-more-naked trees have become a symbol of coziness, in a way. Despite how bleak and stark a winter landscape can be, you can venture out to the mountains wrapped up in a thick, woven blanket, toting a thermos of something hot, and breathe life into a moment that seems devoid of life. You can fill your home with the smells of sweet things baking, the laughter of friends, a fire snapping away in the wood stove. You can bring goodness to the cold times.

Of course I always forget that until an ice storm descends. There are a lot of grumbles amidst the clamber to layer on as many socks as possible. But if I'm lucky my little hat-covered head will catch a glimpse of flour in the cabinets while searching for something good to eat. And then scones happen.

Scones. When I'm feeling bored of breakfast I can count on scones, muffins, or pancakes to make everything wonderful. I think I like the process of scones best, though. There's a tactile element to making scones -- patting together the dough and mixing the dry ingredients with your hands. Sprinkling silvery sugar in scattering arcs over top.

This recipe is a classic favorite -- I've made it both with ghee and coconut oil, and it's great both ways. The crumb is spot on and it's just crisp enough on the outside, with tons of roasted fruit giving it that extra sumthin' sumthin'. Recipe just slightly adapted from London Bake's Kumquat Scones.

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