My indoor cats know where it’s at—basking in the sunspots throughout the house. Those warm and welcoming havens where the sun streams in through the windows and pools on the floor and furniture below are especially inviting on these cold, wintry days. They’re no fools. They know it makes perfect sense to curl up in a place where heat is literally raining down from the sky, warming their bodies through to the bone.
I can tell just by looking at their furry faces how euphoric this makes them. The way they turn their heads toward the source and slow blink as if to say, “Don’t bother me; I’m in a zone.” What I find hilarious is watching said cats squabble over what is apparently prime real estate—a two-foot square expanse of hardwood flooring in a corner of our living room that is bathed in sunlight nearly every morning. If I could fit there (and if I got up earlier), I’d be hijacking it myself.
I’m like a house plant, only less photosynthesis is involved.
It’s not as if we set the thermostat below a reasonable temperature and we’re all freezing to death. It usually hovers right around 70 degrees. It’s just that the sun streaming in feels so ridiculously good—especially on bare feet. And if it’s a blue sky type of day, the sunspots appear on the northwestern side of the house in the afternoon too, providing even more opportunities for lounging in the warmth.
So I guess it’s not the least bit surprising that I, much like our cats, follow the sun in winter. Housebound, I find myself seeking out the shafts of light pouring in and soaking it all up before the clouds close in or night falls. If I didn’t look like a complete idiot, I’d be tempted to sprawl out on the floor just like the cats and devour every sliver of sunlight to be had—charging my batteries so to speak. It’s no wonder almost every vehicle I ever owned came equipped with a sunroof, lest I be deprived of a solitary photon.
For what it’s worth, there’s an amusing YouTube and Instagram video about northerners enjoying February sunshine on a family vlog and blog called Story of This Life. It’s created by Thad and Esther Anderson and I highly recommend you check it out (with the volume on) for a good laugh. The woman in question practically transforms into a cat as she slinks over furniture, stairs, walls and flooring to absorb every available ray of sunshine in her home. These past few months she has become my spirit animal.
What’s more, I sort of identify with the solar panels we had installed on our roof last summer. They love the sunshine, but have been more than a little frustrated by the snow and ice still covering a good portion of their surface. Let the melting begin.
I suppose I should take my husband’s advice and use my Miroco Light Therapy Lamp more often, particularly on gray days when it’s not very sunny. It’s a nifty device for people who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (that I, of course, diagnosed myself) that simulates natural sunlight without UV rays. It has multiple brightness settings, a timer and it swivels for convenience. For whatever reason, though, I just don’t seem to be inclined to fetch it from the bowels of our cabinet where it’s housed. Maybe because I know in my heart of hearts it’s not the same as actual sunlight. Obviously, my cats think it’s a marvelous idea to use it in lieu of competing for their precious sunspots.
Little jerks.
Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably lying in a sunspot, squinting like the cats). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/notesfromplanetmom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.
Copyright 2026 Melinda L. Wentzel
Planet Mom 