The windows have been open, the days are warming. Nights are still cold, but enjoyably so. Blankets, quilts and afghans pile on the bed. As my Dad used to say, it "makes for good sleepin'." My Mom used to tell about sleeping between two feather beds at her aunt's farm. As a child my bedroom window was rarely closed, even in the deepest of winter. The night air smells of chill, earth and the river. It calms me. The layers of heavy blankets are a comfort. A friend of mine who works with special youth says that weighted blankets are a technique used to calm and settle the agitated. I can see that. I can feel that. Yes.
