Friday, December 3, 2010


There is something so enchanting about a beautiful window. Perhaps it's the way the light dances and laughs through the panes, or the view from out of it's glistening surface. There are times when to sit at a window and gaze out, at nothing in particular, is the most wonderful thing in the world. To allow your mind to just wander back and forth between whatever this window may evoke, could be no more perfect at the time.

There have been many windows that have played significant roles in my life. Windows who's views, panes, or glass seemed to spur something in my soul, that demanded I take action and do whatever it was they were demanding I do. At times, it was the view I saw. Some windows showcased a shining, twisting, curving river, framed and surrounded by low blue ridge mountains. Some windows showed a beautiful back yard, full of childhood wonder and wisdom, swing sets and fig trees, wood piles and gardens.

Some proudly exhibited the beautiful, lonely sea, evoking emotions perhaps deeper than any other view. Or perhaps, there was haunting beauty that my heart found in the glass itself. Glass that was old and waving beautifully with time, glass that was clouded from years of standing between the inside and outside worlds they were caught between.

Some of the glass panes colored their outside views a bit blue or green, causing everything seen to be magically altered. And how could I withstand the charm of how many windows, especially those that are forever frozen in time, are dressed. There is nothing that gives me a thrill quite like a well done-up window. With panes thrown open and a gentle breeze softly lifting the cloth of choice hung there, the sight quietly steals a corner tucked away in my heart, reserved only for ordinary beauty such as this. In these moments, I know that from said window, anything is possible...


  1. There's a certain slant of light,
    On winter afternoons,
    That oppresses, like the weight
    Of cathedral tunes....

    -Emily Dickinson

  2. You're welcome...I always think of that this time of year...I wrote this for her...about that poem...thought you might like it...being about windows and all....

    Belle of Amherst
    Palest frailest mayflower
    I think your window
    Must have been cut
    From heaven’s crystal city

    What wonders flowed
    Oh what strains
    Of celestial light
    Were magnified, found focus
    Through that glass

    The bird of sunlight
    Delivered to your room
    Each mornings revelation
    Clutched in its beak
    A burning coal

    And nightly the moon
    Bloomed into your room
    A flower who’s secrets
    Were whispered only
    Into your lonely dreams

    And not that you could
    Or would ever tell
    But I wonder if you watched
    The Angels keep
    Your window clean

    Or perhaps you saw
    God himself wiping off
    Summer’s dust and sweat
    And winter’s frozen tears
    From your little portal into Paradise