Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Between the sheets

Not the paper ones we writers scribble on, the ones you put on your bed.

As the nights turn crisp, and twilight blues earlier than usual, I change my crisp cotton sheets to flannel. Upon arriving up here in Montreal during a dark, bitter, damp, rather bleak November a decade ago, I made a trip to Matelas Bonheur and treated myself to two sets of flannel sheets: one in cornflower blue, the second in mint green.

I've stretched and tucked my blue sheets onto the bed, downy and soft with a knap like fleece, deliciously warm and cozy. Like a fine wine, they only get better with age.

During these beautiful bracing fall mornings and nights, I find I want to spend more time in bed...reading, sleeping, lounging. Perhaps like some of my brothers and sisters in the trade, I will even take up writing in bed. Who knows? My sensuous comfort may help me crack open those stories. It's worth a try.


Leo said...

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear
Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair
Fuzzy Wuzzy stopped and stared
Fuzzy Wuzzy had spied his hair
spun into sheets so blue and fair
Fuzzy Wuzzy stretched out there
on his back, his legs in air
Fuzzy Wuzzy exhaled a prayer
and slept the sleep of a hibernating bear.

Chez Ami said...


And how literary...and well, fuzzy wuzzy.