The View Out My Window

December is quickly ending.

Winding down

This in-between week from Christmas to New Year’s Day has a sense of “what next” to it. The Covid-19 restrictions have certainly put a damper on any real plans to celebrate. So, as I often do, I find myself at my work/art desk pondering what to do now.

Choices

I have several choices lined up before me: reading, drawing, painting. There is always a podcast to upload, a blog to catch up on or writing an entry for the website. So many choices to think about and eventually decide upon. Being retired sure makes a difference in one’s day.

The window

I have a nice big window across the room where I get to “work” on any number of these projects. It’s a fairly large window, probably 60 x 75, tall and wide, letting in lots of light to the room.

Adorning this window is vertical blinds, which I leave open 95% of the time. Life with MMD lends itself to needing this light, lots of it.

I often close my “good” eye and see these blinds become very disjointed. So wavy and out of portion, with the shadowy thumb size blob obscuring what really is a nice set of blinds. This becomes part of my daily eye checks to reassure myself that nothing has changed, I hope.

To the right

The desk I’m working from holds not only my current art projects and papers that need to be filed away. The computer monitor, a nice large 19 inch one, sits smack dab in the middle, making my window view a little more challenging, I often find myself leaning just a bit to the right to be able to see my view clearly. There is the view of my outside world again, a peek out onto a street that I call home.

What I see

From here I can watch the seasons changing: from the beautiful springtime flowers, to summer’s scorching heat, to the colorful fall leaves, to winter’s cold and dreary skies.

It is truly a wonderful ringside seat to nature splendors, complete with distortion and degeneration all tied up together.

Today the beautiful maple tree stands so tall, completely devoid of its leaves. Signs of birds’ nests tucked into its branches, reminding me of early spring and summer. As I look out on these everyday views, my mind often wonders if this view will always be so vivid to me. Even in its dreariness, I am drawn to the sharp lines of the branches, I want to lock in the crisp, clarity of it all.

My view

I do cherish this view every day. Here, as my day begins, I find myself opening the blinds and take in what I see. Thankful when the sun is shining, I marvel as the new snow starts in, I ponder the strength in the winds that blow and lament the torrential rains as they pour down.

This view, no matter what it brings, is what I savor each and every day. So thankful that I can still see and enjoy it all.