Window Tour

Mom used to say that she liked their house on the old Johnson farm because there was a window to look out in every direction.

I like to be able to walk up to a window. There's a single bed in front of the office window, so I have to climb up.

Scott can't figure out why the hinges and plate on the wooden toilet seat are loose. Perhaps it's because I stand on it to look out the window in the bathroom while brushing my teeth. 

Through the window of the guest room, home of the roomba. Note: Scott threw a pole lamp out onto the back step last week. We have a lamp shortage now, alas. It is not easy to find a good lamp.

Porch window

Window in porch door

Window at kitchen sink

Dining room window. Will these deer-demolished cedars ever fill back in? I am tired of waiting.

Window in front door.  Don't step out in the dark or you will break your chin on the concrete step, which was moved away from the door when weeping tile was placed around the foundation.

From the living room, which now has—TaDa!—curtains. It has taken about four years to get around to that.

And finally our bedroom window, and the circle is complete. 

There is a blind spot where there is no east window.
Mom would like their farmhouse better.
An east window would please me, too.

The World Before Us

The latest book I've brought home from the library: The World Before Us, by Aislinn Hunter.

Page 33, and I'm not drawn in yet, I'm even a little bored, and I'm wondering whether to read a bit further, give the author more of a chance to pique my interest.

I've been up since Scott brought me the last coffee in the pot before he left the house. But not really up, as I've been lying abed, reading. Still in my fluffy green housecoat, which needs a wash but that can't be done here, as our iron- and sulphur-soaked hard water will stain it rust.

Page 89, and yes, I'll carry on a bit further now that I've come this far.

For more information about the story, CLICK HERE.