I have been thinking about something for years. When I was young, the window was for checking to see if the school bus was coming. Watching for my friends to go out and play. Later to see if the car that just pulled into the driveway was my date. Then as a mother, I watched my children comings and goings. Then looking for my grandson RudiRue when he came to visit, his arrivals, and departures took me back many years to my own youth.
There was a time when I discovered the wonderful art on the windows in the winter. I was amazed at the wonderful landscapes and flowers that Jack Frost left. I remember asking my Mother who put them there. I was young when she told me Jack Frost; I was hoping I could draw that magnificent, to be able to have such minute detail in all that I painted when I got older. At the window, I learned to put out a piece of black paper, catch the snowflakes, and see all the shapes. I tried to draw them before they melted. I do not think I could get it completely done, but I would try to finish them to look as remarkable as the real thing.
I do remember looking out the window when in school and seeing the sun and wishing I was out on the playground. I remember in grade school the teacher telling us to look out our window, it was raining really hard. She told us quietly look out the window of the classroom across the hall; the sun was shining brightly on that side of the school. I realized then that when it was raining the sun was shining too, each in its own place. As I was thinking about the differences of what was or wasn’t in rain, snow and the sun-bright days I remembered asking my mom the summer before first grade (after having lain in my clover patch watching the stars with my sister,) if it was the same time around the world. She explained to me that as the sun and moon went around the earth, depending on where each was that was the time of day. Wherever the sun was, it was day and wherever the moon was it was night. I was a very inquisitive child; I still to this day have many questions. I probably always will. I too can remember my Mother telling me to save some questions for another day.
As a child, I did not look out the window to see what the weather was. Our Mother always told us if we needed a coat or hat. It was not until I was more mature that I looked out to see for myself what the weather was doing. Most times, I do well assessing what the weather might bring for the time I will be outside. Long enough here, in this area I take an extra sweatshirt with hood. If it gets colder or starts to rain, you are covered. More often than not, those are the only changes that can and regularly happen in this corner of the world.
I learned a dozen or more years ago in meeting people from all places that their window size could be how they saw or interpreted things to be, or their logical thinking. The determination of window dimension for each person seems to be equivalent by the amount of knowledge; we had gained to that point in our lives. I sometimes found those who grew up in the same place and never moved from where they were born, raised, married, had family all in the same small town, they didn’t always see things the same as those who had moved away and lived and raised their families elsewhere. Then there were those that did a lot of traveling and lived in several different places, even more than one state, and some more than one country. It was awe-inspiring to me to see the subtle differences in the thinking and the overview on what they thought of things going on in their backyard, town, and state and around the world. The closer one stayed to the small rural living seemed to be looking through a smaller window, (no less than those with larger windows, each experiences add to the whole.) That is not to say everyone; it differed by education, how much one read, and the culture experienced. Everything seems to weigh in as to what the size of window we each are looking out. There are many varying sizes; it seems one size does not fit all.
Now when I look out my window, I see all of nature. I see the beauty of the sky, in the sun-up’s, and the sundowns. So many wonderful colors I could not name them all. To look and to see the green of the new grass in the spring, that is the only time of the year the grass will have that special greenness. My eyes take in many colors of all the different flowers. I smell the freshness of spring and all the wonderful fragrances coming from the different flowers and trees. I hear the wondrous songs from our birds of so many species and the frog’s calls for their mate. I watch the Thrasher flipping the leaves on the ground to find what is there to eat. The deer coming and going, they see me, but they know they are safe. I now have a nice sized male black bear that comes to visit us regularly, see him always in our front yard checking things out, then moves on without incidence. I watch the Eagles and Hawks, and the Barred Owl is new and has decided to take up residence with us too. I have seen and heard the Great Gray Owl, what a magnificent picture that makes. We have the Pileated Wood Pecker, Red-breasted Sapsucker, Doves with their special calls, the Flickers and the Cedar-Waxed Wings, and I cannot forget Momma Wren that has lived in the eaves just above my window for years. I have watched her in as many springs, summers, falls, and winters. I have watched her raised so many different broods, and what a tireless singer she is. They have such a lively way of searching for food, and they miss nothing. So many different species of birds that one day I have promised myself to start making a list of each and everyone that I see on our properties. Maybe I will start that list tomorrow.
From my window, I see not only spring but there is summer. I can see a part of my gardens. I am so proud of my vegetables and the neat rows. I love my above ground boxes; they make it that much easier for me to do my work in this my summer garden. I like the bench at the top of each side. I can knell or sit which ever I choose to pull the weeds or pick the French green beans. As the season warms the grass, get gold like hay. Then before we know it, the leaves are falling, and it is autumn. I do love fall and all the colors that it displays. I love the smell of leaves in the fall and the sound it makes when you are walking though them. I remember when we as children would jump in the piles of leaves and have the leaf fights all of us laughing and having such a good time. Those were the days of raking, playing, and then the hot cocoa. I love the pumpkins and corn stalks at harvest time. Our youth group at my church would have a hayride each fall with horses and a party at the end of the ride. I knew winter was not too far off; there were a few years that our hayride could have been a sleigh ride with snow all around. It was so much fun, and we would sing songs and our laughter could be heard by all along the way. There was always lots of singing and laughing on these rides. I can remember people watching out there windows, I wonder if they were remembering their youth. I now when I see playful sites it brings to my mind the games we played and the joy of being a child all over again.
It is an amazing site to look out my window when there is fresh snow; its blanket covers everything as far as you can see. It is beautiful, the purity of the white color of snow, I love it when it is virginal with no tracks other than those of nature. I love watching the snowflakes as they come down, it is magical and hypnotizing watching them free fall until they land, you feel so much comfort in your warmth by your window watching the world transform itself in front of you once again.
Each time you look out it will show you something else, something changed or one of nature’s wonders walking or flying through. In all of these years and all of the times, I never see the same thing, never twice. Of all the wonderful beautiful sites, I can remember it was a winter wonderland of white. Everything covered in winter’s white, the limbs of the evergreens laden with the weight. The beauty and dept of all, the snowdrifts, the mounds and nothing disturbed, so fresh.
You never know what you will see, or what you will remember as you look out your window; it depends on your mind’s eye. It is a wonder to look upon what is out there, but it may just take you back to by gone and beyond. That is when I say my window took me on a trip in time; I saw it all in my picture window every time!
My window I look out as my day is beginning. When the weather is bad, I can just watch all that nature has to offer. At my window, I can sit and think things through. However, often times my chain of thoughts get interrupted by what I see out my window. It does not take much. My window is where I go wrapped in my blanket when I am not feeling well. It is the best medicine I could take. I will take several doses several times a day and in a few days, I am back to myself. My window is the eyes of my world, I love my window, and it has become my favorite place to just be silent and watch, watch whatever, watch it all. I watch the seasons come and go. I can leave and go, but I know when I come home it is my window I will seek.
I at times, think of an elderly man who I would see sitting in his window every time I went past his house. He sat in that window watching the world for several years that I know of. I noticed him on about the third time going down his street. I started waving at him each time I went by. The first few times he just looked. Then he started waving back at me each time. I could tell he knew my schedule, he was waiting on me, and he now was the first to wave with a big smile on his face. Every time I went down Cherry Street, I would see him as he would see me. This went on for several years two times a week. On one Tuesday, I went by, and he was no longer in his window. The next time I went by, I saw his family was packing up his things. The house and its window were empty there on Cherry Street. I wondered how long he had lived in that house. How many years did he watch everything from his window, I knew of several, and I was glad to have been a part of his sites. I think of him often and think of his smiles. I wonder too will that be me in my window some day. I hope so.
I am learning that your window can be just your mind. We can allow it to become a window of our life, or we can use it from time to time. A friend brought to my mind that you have to think about those that look into windows too. I will think about that another time. …Just Me (RaeDi)