Maybe I am becoming simple in my old age, but it struck me today how much my view depends on which window I look out from. Sitting at my computer in the smallest office in captivity I look up past a bowl of feathers and my poor dead hand captured in plaster to the sun behind trees tossing wildly in the wind.
To my right is the grapevine and the church up the hill, but the fence hides the road in between.
This morning I woke at six and started to demolish my poor rotten bathroom window
until my neighbour came out and said, “It’s not even eight!” (actually, it wasn’t even seven, but she was sleep deprived). Tomorrow my friend Steve will help me install the new one, but in the meanwhile I am enjoying the wide open spaces.
The old window was opaque, but as it is twenty feet above the water I have no need of a covering and it is fun to see Mount San Pedro, and the ramping ivy, and the slightly dead privet I don’t cut down because that is where the hummingbird likes to sit, no leaves to spoil his vantage.
I once saw a bath in London, outside, but with hot water piped to it! The owner said very logically that the children liked to bathe there.
I really, really want to take out my bedroom ceiling, insulate between the rafters and plank so I have a vaulted roof. The problem is that we are very busy this summer, and my sewing takes up any available extra time (at least it keeps me off the streets). I don’t trust anyone else to do it. Can I wait?