Look out your window; write what you see.
January 20 prompt, “A Writer’s Book of Days”
This prompt catches the sky on an off day. Gone is the usual crisp azure. A blue so sharp and clear that it could be used by a surgeon to laser through body tissue.
Vanished — albeit not for long! — is that sky. It’ll return probably tomorrow. Gray skies do not linger here as they do in western Washington state. God-awful Washington state. The only state in all the land in which I’ve vowed never to step foot again. Unless I’m en route to Canada. Even then, I’d take the long way ’round!
From my window is seen sky: primarily. The location of my little studio — and I do mean little! — affords this fantastic view. It is perched atop a hill, one of many in my town. Not steep San Francisco hills. Having lived there oh so long ago!, I know them well. Talk about good exercise!!
The hills here are gentler than the City’s though still a workout, some are. Especially if you’re on foot and hurrying to get home! As I often seem to be for this reason or other.
The hills can be deadly in snow or ice. The slope of my access alley resulted in city traffic barriers erected at this last storm. My driveway, well, that’s a whole other level of slope! San Francisco slope! I wouldn’t attempt driving it in snow and ice!
The view. From the window in my little studio, it is sky: primarily. Today the shade of gray gauze. Textured. Like those cotton packs dentists stuff between gums and lips.
Interrupting heaven’s expanse are hills and mountains. Granite Mountain, specifically. I do not know the names of the three peaks, tapered, in my direct line of vision. They resemble two giant boobs and behind those a boob by its lonesome. No silicone implants, I assure. 🙂
The natural landscape — from the hills to the giant boobs plus one to the sharp carved peaks of Granite Mountain — all within the view out my window! — are garbed in browns and greens in the style of shrubs and trees of mountainous high desert.
If you travel this direction with Nature behind you, you’ll meet the rooftops of the town interspersed with city trees. Low-rise housing and businesses of historic downtown / Whiskey Row. {The city’s powers that be are adamant about low-level structures and kudos to them!!} The magnificent historic Courthouse. Nearer still, the sharp sloping roof of a church the shade of sandstone. Nearer still, a telephone pole and goliath brown rooftop with skylights. That would be the library. 🙂
From the telephone pole and nearer this way still, a tree. A huge tree. I can’t tell you the type but an arborist certainly could! Its trunk is thick and steadfast, its outreaching branches muscled and vigorous and the smaller branches, twigs-sized, spindly and chaotic and barren like the whole of the tree.
I’m not a tree identifier but I talk to trees and they talk to me. And this tree, only a portion of which is viewable from my window, tells me:
“I am secure here. I like it here. It is winter and I am here, steady and strong and grounded. Spring will spring in her time and then so shall I, a verdant vigorous green that shall absolutely delight your sights and senses!”
I’ve been in this studio only since November and thus not witnessed the changes of seasons so I’ve that to anticipate!
Expansive is the one word to describe the view from my window. Where sky — usually that striking inspiring crisp cloudless blue typical of Arizona and desert — and terrain meet and harmonize, by a direct line of vision.
The chain-link fence demarcating the boundaries of my little patio is easily overlooked — overshadowed and outshined by this great view of my town that I love and come to call home a little bit more every day.
I’ve said it to others and I’ll say it again here. My studio is little, cramped and confining. Were this studio facing, say, the wall of a building, it would be a coffin. The view is the highlight, the selling point, the lead perk that overrides the “negatives” (of small and no bathtub).
There’s truth in one word x 3: location, location, location. Living atop a hill behind the library, singularly and collectively! It’s the perfect place for me at this time (noisy inconsiderate neighbors above notwithstanding)!
It’s the perfect marriage, for me.
Library. Words. Writing. Writer that I am and writer that I increasingly seek to become through publication.
Plus:
High places. I’ve always loved being up there in high places!
If I wrote that in childhood I spent more time high high high high up in the highest branches that could hold my petite size and weight — therefore enabling me to climb with strong innate agility (that remains lo these many decades later!) quite high and deep into trees indeed! — than I did in the house, well, it wouldn’t be altogether accurate. However, tree tops have always been my place of safety. The sole refuge into which I escaped because home was hell and hell home.
P.S. I’m not a liberal tree-hugger! However, I do know my place with and within trees. Perched high in the branches like a bird is best!
Spacious describes the view.
And blessed describes me.
Allelujah, Arizona! 