cozy by the seasons

There truly is an inexplicable magic of coziness. The queerest symptom being the variation of what environment creates that sense of belonging and safety for different people. For me at least, I must have something to do. I must keep my busy hands working for my body to relax and feel the magic. I must also have earned it. I often find myself unable to fall into the clutches of coziness if I have not yet exerted myself, fed the animals, gone for a run, or any other physical activities worthy of rest. The final element that allows me to nest is fire. In the dead of summer, I cannot nest nor feel the coziness of my living room without the thought that as warm as it is inside, it is cold outside. The thought that  it is my simple  privilege to feel the warmth and comfort of a woodfire is the final element needed to throw myself into coziness