Nesting Area


According to Urban Dictionary, “nesting” is the act of settling into a cozy convenient corner and surrounding oneself with all the comforts of one’s vices.

I’m not sure napping, daydreaming and reading fall under the category of “vices,” but that’s me in the corner. And happily so!

There’s a meandering collection of happenstace around this recent nesting period, which lets me know I’m exactly where the Universe wants me to be…

As I was packing up my creature comforts for last week’s Cape Cod Bug Out, this sweet cartoon from Robot Hugs crossed my sightline.


A nest! I wanted one, too. So, I packed up a couple extra pillows and big, warm crochet blanket my gradmother made, and away I went. Nest in tow.

Of course, my makeshift hotel blanket fort/nest was nothing like this fabulous creation from OGE Creative Group! It’s so weird and funky and colorful—and would fit perfectly in one of the small rooms in my house. The “Nesting Room,” ahhhh, can you imagine?


I spent a lot of time roaming last week—down morning beaches, through ancient sand dunes, across great lengths of ocean shoreline. The water was still warm enough to wade in. The air was cool and restoring. It was quiet and calming. I saw shorebirds, seals, and a great white shark. I collected shells and heart-shaped rocks, feathers and smooth ocean stones.

That deep breath and expansiveness is not exactly nesting, I know. But the last find of my trip, as I walked down the sand of my favorite beach? This precious reminder that to everything there is a purpose…


fate sealed


what are those? asks a stranger
in the quiet on october dunes
watching seals bob and weave

his salt and pepper lips,
the glint of amber eyes
invade my solitude…..still

are they dangerous?

not as much as the sharks

i’m thinking of going for a swim, join me?
I watch as he peels off layers hiding

will you meet me for dinner?
he calls, diving into hungry waves

just desserts

Words ©2014, Jen Payne

The Importance of Empty Days

“I always forget how important the empty days are, how important it may be sometimes not to expect to produce anything, even a few lines in a journal. A day when one has not pushed oneself to the limit seems a damaged, damaging day, a sinful day. Not so! The most valuable thing one can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room.”

― May Sarton

and you, underfoot


Maybe it was the fullness of the forest – the branches heavy from recent rain, streams swollen at their banks…

Or was it the weight of the air, damp and humid, set down on my skin like a soft blanket?

Maybe it was the earth underfoot, firm enough, but wet and slippery…

Or was it the light sweat on my upper lip that reminded me of making love on summer afternoons?

I don’t know. But there on the back slope of the trail, with rain dripping hard and fast, all I could think of was you.

Words + Photo ©2014, Jen Payne

Ah, the ebb and flow…


The current is pulling me elsewhere darling.

Oh, but how happy was I to touch against your shore again.

More than you know perhaps.

So familiar, my kindred. Did you feel it?

That rush through veins like rapids.

That storm of pulse at heart-center.

They call it love, you know.

I do, at least.

And always will……..even as the tide calls.

Words: ©2014, Jen Payne
ImageL In the Waves, Paul Gaugin