It’s human nature, I suppose, that as soon as you decide to leave a place you start noticing the things you will miss. There is one thing in particular I will miss about our Oregon house– the western windows. And the trees outside them. And the evening light coming through the new spring leaves.
Granted, most of the time there isn’t any evening light coming through the trees outside the western windows, because the sun is most often behind clouds. I won’t miss that. But when the light does come through, I often just sit and gaze out at it, meditating, I suppose. Or just drinking it in. I don’t know what I’m doing, really. Just watching the flickering beauty and being a part of it all.
I’ll feel better once I locate the best window in the new house. The bedrooms are on the western half of it. It won’t be the front windows that I develop an attachment for. Too public. Maybe it will be the eastern windows in the living room. Or the southern windows by the kitchen. It depends on the trees, really. A great window needs trees to provide the light something to flicker through. And it needs to be private enough that you don’t feel as if someone might look in at any time. Plus it needs to be high enough that I can stand by it, looking out, as I play violin. Most places have such a window. It doesn’t even need to be trees. Tall bushes will do. Anything with leaves.
Anyway. The rest of the house doesn’t matter so much. You know, the plumbing and electricity and all that. As long as it has a good window. Maybe all I need is a window. Because I’m weird.
Why not just go outside, you ask. Why not stand out under the trees? Why limit your view to a rectangle of glass? And that is a very interesting question. I think that comes down to human nature, too. There’s something in us that likes to take a little piece of the whole and frame it. That’s what artists do, and writers and even musicians. Maybe the whole huge beauty of everything is just a little too overwhelming. Or maybe we appreciate it more fully when we frame just a small part of it. Maybe we are kind of a little framed piece of it all, ourselves, looking out at life from our small framed selves.