Through the window
One evening I noticed the reflection in our front door of Rick reading in his leather chair in front of our living room library wall. I thought it was a very nice way to see that scene, so I snapped it. This got me to thinking about winter and how much time I spend looking through windows.
I decided to take you on a tour of my winter window world.
In our house here there are so many windows, since most of the doors are also windows. We keep all the doors closed to retain heat and isolate sound, even those between rooms, which creates different "weather zones." The living room, with the fire blazing might be toasty warm, but the kitchen, unless the heat is on, might be quite cool.
At this time of year I see much of my world framed through windows.
Our house was mostly a ruin when the previous owner bought it over thirty years ago. He was an artist, of the starving variety. He had little cash but quite a lot of energy and many ideas, most of them a little crazy or funky, but he was clever, if not terribly craftsmen-like. He put things together in a rustic way which some days strikes me as charming and other days as annoying. Slowly we are hoping to replace things which are very jerry-rigged, as time and budget allows. The staircase from the bottom floor to the first floor are open and big tree trunks seem to be holding the whole house up. Windowed doors lead to more doors with windows so reflections and abstract designs change with the light, which when I notice them, can be quite interesting.
The living room door leads down to the bathroom and toilet, both with their own glass doors.
Our bathroom, which I still delight in every time I'm there, is viewed through crackled panes of yellow glass.
Sunset in this corner of the world is often so gaudy and bright that it's difficult to believe its real. Against our one painted red wall in the living room, it makes a splash. This time of year night falls early.
The kitchen is on its own level midway between the living room and atelier. The two sides of the house therefore seem very distinct and separate, which I like. The kitchen is bathed in light and the beveled glass leading in lends the room a cubist effect. The garden room beckons from beyond.
In winter the garden room is very pleasant if the day is not too cold, or if the heat is turned on. Even on a gray day the light fills the space and makes me happy. Through the glass door are reminders of summer meals past and future and plants which await next season's colorful decorations.
The polonia tree has enormous leaves which stayed late on the tree until the early winter when they all fell leaving simple bare and curvaceous branches. The barn across the road is not so visible in the summer months. It, like most of the houses in our village, is built of limestone, which glows honey-colored in the sun, but reflects the dull gray sky in winter months.
Birds outside my atelier window are my winter companions. We have sparrows and tits in abundance and a family of goldfinchs who, despite their smaller numbers, dominate the bird feeder.
The tits, of which we have two kinds, the ones with black and white faces and the one's with light blue faces, are very shy, but steadfast. There seem to be dozens of them. They fly to this tree and land on an upper branch. They look all around before hopping down to another branch closer to the feeder. They survey the scene carefully once more, finally they flit over to the bird feeder, land only long enough to take a seed and then fly away again immediately, often just to an upper branch where they use their feet to hold the seed while they eat it. Sparrows do not dwell on the feeder either, although they seem a little bolder than the tits. The goldfinches, however, are quite sure of themselves. They often shoo all the other birds away by fluttering their bright yellow wings at them. They will sit on the perch of the bird feeder for a long time, taking and eating seed after seed.
This year our persimmon tree gave us lots of fruit, enough to make a pudding for Christmas dessert, to send home with Emily, and to allow many to remain on the tree for the birds. We had a few days this week of blackbirds feeding on them. We were thrilled as we have been trying to attract the blackbird to our garden. They have the most beautiful song, which we enjoyed every spring in Montmirail where they gathered outside our window on the wall of the château. Of course in the winter they keep their songs to themselves.
Among my Christmas photos was this one looking through windows, not in our own house, but in our favorite restaurant in Semur-en-Auxois. You can see Rick sitting next to Quinn and Emily with her back to us and Jos in his green sweater. Zinnie is hidden.
Dark falls over the village as we look out our living room window to see the last rays of the sunset. The neighbor's lights go on. Later, the stars will come out and we can sometimes see them so vividly that we might as well be on top of a mountain or in the desert. The advantage of living in the deep country....