So, these sweet brown boys have been hanging out. Nipsey Russell, meet Mr. Samson. They both think that they’re human, so they’re constantly confused as to what the other guy thinks he’s doing hanging out. Still slightly skeptical of each other (and the existential crisis of whole cat/dog thing), one thing they both agree on: laying by the woodstove, as close as possible to our people is just about as good as it gets.
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
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