Nesting

Are you a nester? Certainly this idea of nesting for the winter isn't new, but it seems like people sure are talking a lot about nesting this winter. And let me clarify that by people I mean the bloggers I follow.

Sure, I can't deny that there is something romantic about curling up by the fire with a nice chai latte and nibbling on gingersnaps, reading a captivating novel or listening to Ray LaMontagne getting so wrapped up in knitting your mustard yellow scarf that you don't realize you've been sitting there for three hours and can't feel your fingers anymore. I've had my share of these days. I even covet them.

But for some very bizarre reason, I want nothing more than to be outside this winter. Anybody who has met me knows I hate being cold. I more than hate it. My poor, crippled fingers quickly become icicles, and the thawing process is quite the opposite. The same goes for my toes. And let's not forget the runny nose.

This winter, though, the sunshine seems to be my personal lighthouse. It's beckoning me to come out and come near, to get warm, to move around and be filled with joy, to cherish the sun-filled days in what may otherwise be a cloudy, cold winter.

Yesterday I enjoyed a hike through Jones Gap with good friends, today (well for the moment) I'm opting for the more modern, updated version of the romance I previously described. Sitting on my bed in my warmly colored room, listening to Ray LaMontagne, readings blogs, and enjoying the squirrels doing their squirrelly things.

The sun is bright and strong today. The beckoning is becoming more exaggerated, more like an inviting dance circle and it's my turn to get in the middle. But it's just me today. Seems like others are doing the nesting thing so typical of Sunday afternoons. Being playful outside, and almost everything else, seems to be more enjoyable with good company.

On another note, my weekend visitor said seven little words to me today that just conjured a beautiful image in my head. He reached in my sweater pocket, pulled out a seemingly meaningless object he stealthily planted there and said, "I got you something for your nest." It immediately made me want to make a nest like a bird would, speckled with random objects that tickled their fancy. Maybe it's because nests embody things I love like earthy goodness and whimsy. It's not a new concept, and humans have nests too. Just larger ones with less twigs and more and more and more of the shiny things that catch our eyes. But maybe I will start a nest of the bird kind and maybe you should bring me something for it.