Cozy: giving a feeling of comfort, warmth and relaxation.
It is one of my favorite feelings.
It is 52 at 9 o'clock this morning, and 71 in the house.
Last night, my last thought before I drifted off to sleep was how cozy I felt, and how good that was.
I had washed all the bedding, added a new fleece blanket on top, just enough to be able to snuggle.
And it was good. The pillows were soft and plumped, the sheets smooth, the covers surrounding me with a soft layer of comfort.
A nice cool bed with the lightest of cover is welcome in the summer, but it is not cozy. Nope.
I love the springs and falls here, when days are in the 70's or no more than low 80's. The nights can get into the 40s, and there you go. Cozy.
As I grow older, comfort has become an important component of what I do. I never was much of a shopper and never a fashionista. I don't seek for a fashionable house and am frustrated when items I want, like curtains and bath mats, come only in the fashionable colors, not the ones I want. Can color be part of making a cozy home? I think so.
Cataracts are constraining my movement abroad these days. I have always been one to hop in the car and go, a habit from growing up in New Mexico. Now I sedately stay within about a 30-mile radius. I hope that will change post-surgery, whenever that will be. Hopefully this spring, which is the soonest I can see the doctor again.
For now, however, there are gardens I have sped by before to explore, my own home to concentrate on, little art galleries to discover, and such a plethora of new restaurants I never will get around to all of them. I have chafed at the restrictions. I have indeed let it dull my pleasure at what is within my reach.
But last night I was cozy, and I went to sleep happy and woke up the same way.
I intend to continue that way.
I can deliberately create a cozy environment.
And happiness is a choice.
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2 comments:
When I was a strange little child, fascinated by insects, I came across something that a famous entomologist (Fabre?) had written about how he could spend his entire life looking closely at the life in his own backyard. I always remembered that (sort of) and it led me to the idea that the small things are what truly mattered. And now there you are, miles away, talking about the same ideas. My friend.
Yes, and I am in an area with a lot of interesting things I have overlooked. But I will always miss the mountains, deep down. And yes, we are friends. I keep trying to imagine mountain apples with chiles. Pie Town sounds great.
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