Windows

Windows

WINDOWS

Each and every morning I find myself looking out at our back yard as I drink my first cup of coffee, and no matter what time of year, I am at peace.  Today, in the midst of July, I relish the beauty of our river birch, which my husband planted as a young tree the first summer we were in the house.  The way it has grown always makes me catch my breath.

I can also see our volunteer strawberry bed, filled with volunteers from neighbor’s yards which I am certain are in our yard from fruit the birds have delivered, knowing how much we love strawberries.  In the center of the window I can see the pussy willow that my husband insisted needed to be in the round flower bed where the Japanese maple didn’t make it last summer.  He was right, of course. I smile knowing I asked at the plant nursery for a pussy willow plant, but now find we have a pussy willow tree, but we don’t mind.

Not only do I look out at our birch, the strawberries and the pussy willow, I can barely see the grape leaves from our trellis by my office window, overflowing with greenery and a robin’s nest that holds three babies this year, and a busy mom and pop robin feeding three babies with fuzzy heads and hungry mouths.

Just to the left of these windows in the living room I can peek out and see a bit of the ash tree planted in the middle of our back yard when the birch also came to our house. I smile every time I see this tree because when our little grandson, Asher, was younger he thought the tree was named after him. And why not?

The beauty this window gives me fills me with joy every single morning, but not because I am able to look out at the trees and see how they are thriving. The real reason I feel blessed each morning is because my husband planted trees and plants like this all over our yard, so that no matter where we looked through our windows, we would see this beauty.

I remember his calling to me from the yard with the white flowering cherry, and the pink plum, asking me, “Here? Or there? Where?” I’d decide, then point, and the shovel would come out of the shed and before you knew it, we had something else wonderful to view out of our windows. I can walk around our house and see not only these glorious trees, but the Fat Albert fir and the small blue spruce in the corner by the fence, the clematis vines we see from the dining room windows in the front, along with our hanging planter and rope chair swing  on the front porch ~ everything that gives us peace here in this house.

On cool mornings a walk through the yard inspires me. If these trees and plants can thrive, so can the rest of us. We can stay healthy, drink in love and be active, just like these trees. We can continue with new thoughts and ideas, just as the plants send out new green leaves and fragrant flowers. There is hope all around us. Our lives are full of it. And then there are the quail we find sitting on our fence some mornings, or pecking for worms beneath the evergreens. Who can look at the quail and not feel love? There’s just something about nature that inspires us all to a higher calling. At least that’s the way I feel each morning when I look out of these windows I love so much, even in the winter when the trees are covered with snow. There’s a gentle beauty in that, too.

About beeconcise

A Southern writer living in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Windows

  1. Belle says:

    Thanks for shgarni. What a pleasure to read!

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