Covered in Cat

It has been liberating to replace the robust hum of the boiler with the sounds of Spring peepers and chirping birds. Needing neither heat nor A/C, we are in that glorious place between seasons when the air is so mild that we open windows and invite it to play. Most afternoons, the cats come and go as they please with an open-door policy to the screened-in porch. 

But this time of year, the nights are still cold, dropping sometimes to 38 degrees. Inside these stucco walls with no insulation, the first story of the farmhouse is cave-like, maintaining a 55 - 65 degree constant. Before the afternoon sun can heat up the house, the mornings here are chilly, leaving me wonder if perhaps we packed away the down comforter too soon.

But never fear... like me, the kitty-kids do not like to be chilly. So I've found myself a new kind of down comforter. With Sprout wrapped around my head, Potter nestled against my right side and Albus on my left (they always snuggle in this formation, by the way), I wake up covered in cat almost every morning. 

The post-winter world is waking up with greens that push through the soil, yawning with outstretched tendrils, shaking off sleep.

 And I wake up 
covered in a 
pile of cat.

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