The cure for boredom . . .

. . . is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

                              ~ Dorothy Parker ~

OK, the thing is, I'm never, ever bored. I'm always far too busy. 

Boredom is a word I rarely, if ever, give a thought to.

I consider myself to be a curious person. 

Ever since childhood I've been extremely interested in nature. For gifts I often requested pocket-sized nature guides to plants, weeds, wild flowers, birds, insects, even the small animals found in the meadows such as field mice and hedgehogs. I was fortunate in that I don't recall there being dangerous, poisonous, biting, stinging creatures in England's beautiful countryside that I needed to avoid . . . well perhaps a raging bull at a gate once, and a few horseflies now and then!

The older I became the further afield I would roam with those guidebooks, and a small notebook and pencil in my pocket. In winter I would don my Wellington boots and mackintosh - it was usually raining, or threatening to - sloshing through piles of wet leaves to get into the fields. In spring and summer I would traipse through a large nearby field at daybreak - before the cows arrived - gathering a basket of mushrooms for breakfast. Later, in sunshine, I'd watch the flowers opening, buttercups, celandines and daisies, as I lay on my back with clouds scudding overhead, swallows swooping low. Autumn was always, and still is, my favorite season. The colors of the mighty horse chestnuts and oaks were amazing, their leaves laying thick carpets of gold and bronze on the woodland floor, the chestnuts' copper-hued conkers shining as they peeked through their bright green prickly cases. 

We lived at the edge of the countryside. By that I mean in a neighborhood built after WWII to house families where the dads, and sometimes even the mums (both my parents served in the Royal Air Force within England during the war), returned to civilian life, desperate for housing.

We lived in my grandmother's tiny flat in town for a while, then we moved into a pre-fabricated home on a housing estate. Neat little cookie-cutter houses with small back and front gardens built quickly in meandering rows, bordering a village and plenty of woodland and farmland. I have vivid memories of that house as we lived there until I was seven. My mother taught me how to grow flowers and vegetables from seed - flowers I recall best were the heady perfumed sweet peas in summer, and powerfully fragranced sweet William that bloomed with autumn's arrival. The veggies were runner beans, broad beans, potatoes, cabbages, cauliflowers and Brussels sprouts.

I found this little rustic cabinet when treasure hunting in Asheville, NC last year. I knew immediately it was to become my own cabinet of curiosities.  My plan was to refinish it, make it spiffy with perfect paint, but the longer I've put it off the more I realize it's just the way I want it to be. It already holds some natural curiosities and brings me a lot of pleasure. Searching for new, meaningful additions to the cabinet is something I've discovered to be most interesting.

The opposite of boredom is to remain engaged or 

interested in a subject.

I believe that curiosity just might be the answer here.  

Do you consider yourself to be a curious person?