Nookin’ It

In spare moments throughout the past two weeks, I’ve been creating a little writing nook for myself in a corner of our living room.  I love to make a nook. Whether it’s indoors or a stone path leading to a rustic wooden bench hidden in a grove of trees, there is nothing as cozy and welcoming as a well-appointed nook.  Perhaps it’s my affinity with cats that explains my penchant for nooks.  Cats are great lovers of small cozy places, whether in a corner of a carpeted closet or in a cardboard box.

“Ground control to Bubbles.”

My writing nook is small; there’s room for little else than my laptop, but if it were much bigger, it would no longer qualify as a nook.  I would then have to call it an office or a workspace, or something equally dull.

It’s not perfect yet; the chair is dark and bulky next to the delicate white table, and the space looks colder through my camera lens than it really is (must invest in some photography classes).   But the chair will do for now, and it already looks better since my Aunt Sara upholstered it from fluorescent pink to grey.  Thank you Aunt Sara!

In the wall in front of my table is a niche (a word I love almost as much as nook).

The niche holds tiny readables like “Webster’s Compact Writers Guide”, which helps me fulfill the mandates of that perverse tyrant called grammar.  There’s also an old German catechism from my childhood Sunday school days.  Someone, I can’t remember who, read the questions aloud and then we children stood up one by one and read the answering verse from the catechism.  Some of the verses were dreadfully long, but there was one that contained only three short words: “Ja, die Engel.” (Yes, the angels.)  We children coveted this verse, and whomever it fell upon was considered lucky indeed.  I only remember it coming to me once.

On the wall to my right hangs an antique wall vent cover.  I painted it and turned it upside down and now it serves as a folder for paper and things that might otherwise clutter my table.


English ivy umbrellas the whole nook (yes, I just used “umbrella” as a verb; “Webster’s Compact Writers Guide” be hanged).  The ivy shades me like a leafy bower and I imagine lovely swells of carbon dioxide and oxygen swirling about me as I write.

There is a criterion that helps me to discern whether I have created a successful nook: am I able to sit down in it, do absolutely nothing and feel perfectly content?  If the answer is yes, then it will serve as a wonderful space in which to work and dream.  I’m happy to say my writing nook has passed the test.  But honestly, with a brand new mouse pad adorned with kittens, is there any way it could have failed?


2 responses to this post.

  1. That sounds lovely! I do most of my writing in my room or my little well of sanity in my madhouse, but a nook sounds so much nicer. Enjoy!


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