A Bed for the Nut

Heading back inside from Kelso Abbey into the warm, quiet house, I carried the wild hazelnut in both hands. Near the hearth, an old sheepskin boot sat resting on its side upon the rug. I walked over softly and felt the deep, pillowy fleece spilling from its rolled collar. It was cloud-soft and toasted by the chimney warmth. Using my thumbs, I made a tiny round hollow right in the white woolly pile. I gently nestled the cool, smooth hazelnut into the dimple until only its dark polished crown peeked out. Anchored... calm and safe for the night. A slow sigh slipped out, and I gave a quiet, sleepy nod.