Until Saturday, we'd never met our mail carrier. That morning, we'd brought our cereal bowls and coffee mugs out onto the deck where we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while soaking in the warmth. We were sitting at the table, reading magazines, when an unfamiliar car pulled into our driveway. I was wearing pajama pants, one foot up on my seat, leaning against my knee as I read. I looked up when I heard the gravel crunch, and just as I was forming the question, Rob said, "The mailman."

Or, rather, mail woman. Rob shuffled over to her, in his bedroom slippers, as she gathered the stack of items belonging to us. As he approached, she said warmly, "I've never found you guys home before! Here, there's something you need to sign for." I'd never stopped to consider who our mailperson might be, what he or she might be like, but as I watched this interaction I realized that she was younger than I expected, and quite bubbly. I liked her immediately. "Such a nice morning for coffee on the deck!" she said. Rob murmured agreement, and I smiled at her. And then she was wishing us a good day and maneuvering the car back down the driveway.

Rob returned and plopped the package on the table next to me. "I bet it's interesting for her to finally meet us," he said. "I wonder if we're what she expected." Although I'd never really considered who she might be, I have contemplated who our mail carrier imagines us to be. I've often thought the fun part of delivering mail would be puzzling together people's lives, based only on their correspondence. (Not that a mail carrier scrutinizes the pieces of mail, although I probably would. It's my inner spy.) Magazine subscriptions alone would tell so much about the residents of a home. The return addresses of envelopes might reveal a person's workplace, political affiliation, favorite charities, the location of friends. Not to mention the outgoing mail, which would provide even more clues.

Once on a rescue squad call to an elderly couple's home, I happened to notice their mail sitting on the kitchen counter. It caught my eye because it was exactly what we had received that day: AAA Traveler, Newsweek, and a weekly supplement to the local paper. Earlier I had stacked ours on the kitchen counter, biggest to smallest, just like theirs. I smiled and thought, "This is us in 50 years."

But now it makes me wonder if our mail lady had correctly guessed our age. Did she expect us to be older? We used to get Reader's Digest, so that likely threw her off. I'm sure there are other things that may confuse her as well. Like the Mennonite newsletter that comes every month, I DON'T KNOW WHY. Did she think we'd be entirely different? Perhaps, but I bet she almost always gets it right. I bet she'd figured out that Rob and I are a young couple, part geek/part organized-freak, with no kids (but several cats that sit in the windows) who love traveling, wine, nature, and outdoor concerts. And hate weeding the flower beds (which, sad to say, is obvious to anyone who stops by).

And I bet she fantasizes about playing matchmaker with families in the neighborhood. In her daydream, she drops a little note in our mailbox that says, "You should invite the Taylors over for dinner." And when we do, we discover that they are geeky liberal tree-hugging lushes with well-organized closets. Our kind of people! She smiles to herself as she envisions us exclaiming, "How did she know?!"

I really have no intention of making this a craft blog, despite the recent bout of project posts. It's just that knitting is what I've been doing lately.

Last week I knitted another bowl, adjusting the pattern so it would be much smaller. Much, much smaller. Because less is more and this is more than just a bowl. It's a nest!

Nest is one of my favorite words. I love its many meanings, how it represents a safe snug place, and a fitting together of things, and the preparing of a home. I love the way birds create a nest, with patience and simple materials - much like knitting, come to think of it. And this time of year, I love finding nests and the promise of what that means.

I haven't posted a "Hiking with Kelly" photo in a year - I'm way behind. In this case she appears to be legitimately enjoying the hike. This was taken on a recent outing to this fire tower.