The time we slept in a nest

As for last weekend.

It wasn't exactly the huddle-around-the-woodstove cold that I had envisioned, but I'm not complaining. It was lovely in yurt No. 9.

Now instead of us being dressed in layers upon layers of long johns, wool socks and beanie skull caps, I spent most of the time in my bathing suit with the flannel top from my pj's thrown over for good measure. It was great. We played cribbage, ate twizzlers, played dominoes, read magazines, read about Africa, hummed silly songs that would get in our heads for no apparent reason like "I Am the Walrus," drank wine, hiked to a seal lookout, tossed a football around, and apparently drank at the fountain of a poison oak factory (help!).

But the best part was the nest we got to sleep in on our last night there, made by Big Sur artist Jason Fann. About 7-8 feet off the ground, you're suspended in this teeny wooden cocoon just big enough for a mattress. There's a large hole on either side to create this wonderful wind tunnel effect for the two deliriously happy people who are caught in the middle of it.
It was totally worth getting a bit of sap in my hair, which is still matted and sticky despite several washings already. Balls.