March 05th, 2018

It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul.  Do you suppose it follows then that windows are the peek into the soul of a house?

​We have spent a little time touring some of the Parade of Homes the past few weekends and I've noticed that we very quickly know if we are going to like a house or not.  One of the big things for me is natural light.  I seem to need a lot of windows.  A Lot.  Like a Bank of windows.  Walls of windows.  Stacks of windows.  The more natural light the better as far as I'm concerned. I know there are loads of folks who really enjoy the cozy, darkness of a room with little to no natural light.  I am not any of those people.  I could never live in one of those underground houses. I have to be able to not only see outside but have the light from outside come in as well.

 In Colorado I remember watching the rectangles of sun through the windows move across the floor of the family room as the day went by.  There was always a cat in that rectangle soaking up the sunlight.  As the sun moved, so did the cat.  You never saw her actually get up and  move but whenever I walked by she was still in the sunspot.  It was as if the sun dragged her along as moved.

​In California, my sister and I once had an argument through the window of the house. She was outside, I was inside.  She had the garden hose in her hand and ended the argument by spraying me with that hose, right through the window. Hah!  Funny the things you remember.

​When the boys were small I remember them lining their window sills with treasures.  An interesting rock perhaps, a pretty autumn leaf, maybe a small toy or favourite book.  It was a very old house, built in the 1700's, and the windows were rather low to the ground.  The lower window panes always had finger prints on them and doggy nose prints.    In Connecticut it seemed that there was always a cat in the window, balanced in the window sill, surveying their domain in that regal way that cats have.

​I need the light for sure, but whenever possible, I also need fresh air.  I need the outside, in.  Right now the weather is perfect.  Sunny, 70's as a high and the windows are flung wide open.  The air inside and out is filled with freshness and fragrance and birdsong.  It's glorious and I love it.  I know it's short lived.  All too soon, the thermometer will cross that threshold form 79 to 80 and the windows will be slammed shut and the AC will kick in.  This is partly for Tim's comfort level but even more for the bank of temperature persnickety computers in his office.  So I'll enjoy it while I have it.

​It's also nice to have a view out the windows.  I mean of something other than the brick building next door which often happens in a city.  The best views are ones that change periodically.  In Colorado we had a view out our back window of the eastern Ridgeline which meant the sunrise.  It was magnificent and different every single day.  At my grandmother's house in Maine the view was of the Atlantic ocean.  Cannot beat that one.

​But it's not just about the view out but also the view in.  Anyone who steps into our courtyard can see in our front windows which gives a view of not only our kitchen but also the living room and family room and right out the back windows. They smile and wave when they see me.  I kind of don't need a doorbell.  It's a pretty enough view into our house.  It's tidy and cozy and homey looking but certainly not fancy. 

​The fanciest part of our house are the prism generated rainbows that shine on the walls at specific times of day.  In the back of the house it's around mid morning.  In the front of the house it means it's time for me to start thinking about fixing dinner.  The light streams in the different window at different times and creates these lovely rainbows.  I look forward to it every day​

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Ever drive through a neighborhood at night?  When it's dark outside and people have their inside lights on, for a split second, we are privy to a small part of their lives.  It's just the tiniest glimpse.  Enough to perhaps note that the family is all gathered together watching a TV show, or eating dinner.  I'm not casing the place for heaven's sakes, it's just something I cannot help but notice.  It's the people inside that  shine in the light and make it a home. The outside is just a building, a structure, the house.  And in the darkness, it's barely even noticed. 

​With the windows open right now, I'm actually a wee bit chilly, but iId rather put on a sweater than close the windows.  I just heard a garbage truck lumber by and the warning horn on the north bridge telling cars that the bridge is about to go up to let another boat through.  There are a variety of various birds chirruping madly and I can smell the honeysuckle that grows on the fence between our house and the one next door.  Very shortly I will hear the church bells from the Catholic Church down the road chime once for each hour.  

​I  love every kind of light that shines through my windows.  I even like seeing the dust motes dance in the beams that wend their way through the windows in late afternoon.  Okay, maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe windows don't show everyone the soul of the home, but they are important to the health of both my home and my heart.  

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