Boxes and Nests

I love boxes. I'm not absolutely sure why but some how a good sturdy box brings me comfort and security. I'm not quite ready for an intervention by that show Hoarding: Buried Alive but I do love a nice collection of boxes.  In fact, just today, this very day, I received in the mail a catalogue for those of us who love boxes. It's called ULINE. I never heard of it but they are "Shipping Supply Specialists". How did they know?

There are many, many great uses for boxes. Here are a few ideas:

• A disposable spitoon for those guests who chew
• A temporary window replacement
• A splint for a broken bone
• Cardboard boxes make great furniture (ottoman, coffee table, headboard)
• Backpack
• Jewelry
• Compost container
• A cozy dark nest for new kittens or puppies
• A handy container to ditch dirty dishes when unexpected company is ringing the doorbell
• A wagon (just attach to a skateboard)
• Snow skis (just use plenty of duct tape) 
• Always have small cardboard squares on hand to level that pesky wobbly table at Starbuck's

My favorite is to use a box as a hiding place for the purchases you make that you are hiding from your significant other. Weeks later you wear it and when asked "Is that new?" you reply, "No, this old thing...I've had it in the closet for ages".

For the many years that I was married raising 4 children, moving was WHAT WE DID. One year we moved 5 times in that 12 month period. Boxes were the landscape of my life. All I ever wanted was my own nest, a place I could put my plants IN the earth and not have to transport them from state to state, city to city, house to house, in pots. I wanted to paint the walls the colors of MY choice and have the same pediatrician for my children's entire childhood. 

Friends, of which I had few considering the many moves, would say, "How do you do it, Linda? I could never move so frequently." And I'd respond with a cheer I never felt, quoting the pithy plaques that had been given to me: 'Home is where the heart is' and 'Bloom where you are planted'.

But sooner or later the buds wither and fall off before any blooming can take place and the heart becomes bruised.

Now, I have a little 1940's cottage that I adore and have put my heart and soul into it. Indeed, I have bloomed - a few weeds here and there but that's ok.

I was cutting back another bouganvillia a couple weeks ago (with much the same results as the previous prickly man-eater) and in the process I found a small bird nest. Nobody was home, no eggs or fledglings, rather late in the year, but I carefully replaced that nest. Maybe the former residents will return to their nest in the spring. And they will arrive with no boxes. How do they do that?