I didn't get much cleaning done (of course!) but I feathered a little bit 'round the nest. I love this ruched ruffly cotton duvet. It fell into my cart at the Goodwill the other day - what luck! =) I use this room all winter as a staging area for website and ebay photos. It's surrounded by windows so the light is perfect! On the less glamorous side, it's also the kids tv room so any furniture that lives in this room has to be durable! ... or dispensable.
I think it was the texture and natural color of the duvet that got me thinking about nests (well, that and the gianormous nest that Sugar tore apart! It was home to my oversized robins eggs. He's such a turd. ...But his accidents are decreasing so I'm starting to like him again.)
Alice from Painted White has this painting of a nest on old sheet music and for some reason it reminded me of painting that a friend did for me several years ago.
She had stopped at our garage sale - lived right down the road... Not quite elderly but she walked slow... "Can you bring this little rocker home for me? I want my old dolly to have a pretty place to sit..." We became the kind of neighbors that are "can I borrow some sugar" friends. It was lung cancer that slowed her pace. I gave her rides to the grocery store and she teased me about my barefoot babies. One day she showed me all the crafts and paintings that she had been working on before she got sick. She told me to pick something out. I choose this little stool and I hollered into her dark kitchen, "Sally, is it ok if I take the one with the nest?" "Anything, dear!" she said as the dogs scampered around her, wanting to play. It hurt my heart to be in that sick-house, to see her art un-done and her dogs not understanding... to see Summer life so full outside the windows... to watch her husband come home from work, walking to the mailbox with his shoulders slumped. Anyone could tell that she was going to die. I didn't like seeing my children there - somewhere between their childhood and her death. Visits were hard! As I left that day, stooping to hug her, she said, "I thought you'd want the one with the roses." -nodding her head toward my nest stool. "It's symbolic, I guess... A nest is home and God has given me a home. Eggs are life and He gives new life. They're both so symbolic of us and God... what He does for us if we let Him." She chuckled and coughed and waved a hand me, scooting me out the door. I didn't try to say any more. It was obvious she didn't believe a word of it. So obvious - with that polite "Get on home to those babies, now." Weeks later, we moved unexpectedly. She called a few times but I was so busy with emptying boxes and making this old farmhouse home - feathering the nest... Besides, "I don't know how to say this thing about how to get to Heaven..."
Last Spring I saw her obituary in a crumpled newspaper that I was using to pack items being shipped out. I hope I'll never make the mistake again of paying more attention to the nest than the eggs...