I'm sure this is a product of having read Wuthering Heights so many times as a kid
(seriously, is that any kind of example a 12-year old should be getting for adult relationships? apparently yes, since I've always been better off than Catherine. read it lately? whoa)
but I do love a murky grey morning in fall. There are so many possibilities for the day, all of them layered - from rain clothes and boots to the many ingredients in the cookies you'll probably bake or the pages of the book you'll read since it's too crummy to go out gallivanting through the heather.
No sun to make you squinty or too warm.
Leaves standing out but softly against the sky if they are still on their trees; the ones on the ground bright against the darkened pavements.
Air wet and chilly enough for a good strong sweater
A hot drink that much more comforting
A nap that much more enticing
and anything you actually accomplish so much more rewarding.
Also, I get to go out and hear music while knitting later, and then have supper in a restaurant with friends. And I tracked down my favourite weird skirt to wear. So even if it was gorgeous and sunny and warm it'd still be a pretty fab day. Yay!