A Bed for the Night

Night was settling over the terrace planks, and the breeze began humming against the cedar leg. My pebble hoist was locked tight, but standing out in the draft wasn't ideal for resting. Behind an empty seed tray, I spotted a clean, dry burlap garden tag tied to a bit of string. I paused, testing the coarse fabric with both hands to ensure it was completely dry. With a measured pull, I dragged it into the corner recess right beside my glass votive shelter. Folding it in half made a cushioned, insulated floor out of the cold. Tucked in behind the timber post, it feels quiet and sheltered, don't you think?