An ode to breakfast, a paean to brunch

Having just had an excessively satisfying brunch of a waffle, toast, eggs and hash browns, I now sit on this lovely autumn day under the shade of a large tree on the green lawns of UNC. And I feel a sense of contentment that's making me warm and fuzzy inside.
One may argue that it is in fact the weather and the tree and the obliging lawn that're making me so gooey today. I would disagree.
I have felt this same sentiment--what I call Post-Croissant Contentment--on rainy days, on hot days, on snowy days and on very non-descript days as well. I remember that wonderful morning when I trudged through several feet of snow to Cornucopia, the corner bakery on Seminary St. in Galesburg. As I sat there buttering and jamming my croissant at 7:00 in the morning, staring out the window at the green awnings and silently falling snow, the aroma of freshly ground coffee and baking cookies heavy in the air, I felt like I was in a Thomas Kinkade painting.
Those smells and tastes of breakfast...butter, jam, coffee, toast, croissants, danish pastries, warm milk, cinnamon and nutmeg, sizzling dosas...these awaken in me sensations of pure joy and contentment and I find my senses flooded with all things beautiful. As I nibble on my buttered toast, I can almost hear the quiet opening measures of Beethoven's pastoral, I am awakened by Grieg's Morning Mood as I sip my cinnamon-y coffee. In the hubub of Bangalore's Upahara Darshini, the masla dosa brings forth visions of sacred flames in ritual altars and strains of a wedding raaga, the smells of an alley that leads to a temple.
I am transported to golden-brown fields of wheat, to cool stone temple floors on hot days, to woods and springs, to warm cosy chairs by fireplaces and to stormy days with rain pattering on the windows.
Breakfast makes life truly beautiful.