It Was, It Is, It Will Be

Oh, these panes of glass! The things they must’ve seen. The winds that they have protected against the cold that they have shielded from, frosting over themselves. Becoming one with the landscape. The squares that perspire with each summer ray and rain. Oh, this window has seen so much. Has been the frame, the canvas, the home to so many things. Today though, this view is somewhat similar to yesterday, the only change is that there is possibility. Today this window will see change.

Standing here, the air conditioner pushes cold air onto my chest and abdomen making it feel moist. To be honest, I really don’t like that feeling. I don’t like how it clings to my skin or my clothing and has a lingering effect. It reminds me of when a ladybug stays on your finger, just a little too long. At first, you feel special that a creature is bonding with you, and then all of a sudden you start to notice the feeling of each individual leg crawling across your skin. That triggers a slight panic and you start to shake your finger in hopes to set it free, but it just won’t leave. That feeling is what it’s like to stand in front of the a/c for me. At first the cool air is an oasis, but soon enough the damp air makes me cringe.

It’s worth it though. To endure this discomfort as I gaze upon the future and some of the past. From here I am overlooking a small portion of the yard. About an acre of the sixteen we own. To the right is my fathers light yellow wood-shop. Long ago, before we lived here, this was a chicken coop. My father has made so many things inside. Chairs that we lounge on while “front-porch-sitting,” ornaments that we hang on the tree every Christmas(some gifted to and then inherited back after the passing of my grandparents), and even the moulding that frames this very window of which I am peering.

Further back on the right, still in line with the wood-shop is our barn. A little brown, a little white, and peeling a lot, it stands at almost a hundred years. Until recently, it harbored nothing more than our John Deere and boxes and boxes of anything and everything you could imagine. If you needed an extra screw or old material to make a doll dress or wanted an old chest, door, chair, or bed frame, then this is the place to go. Though it sounds chaotic, we know where most things are. These were collected things over my grandparents and parents lives. My sister and I even have some things up there. Now though, I have 27 new babies in there. Well, most would call them chickens, but who could help getting more attached to those fluff balls.

Part of the change that will be starting today is the chicken run addition to the front of the barn. The side that faces this window has a small door and the front that faces the road has a large sliding door. The run will span the length between the two doors and jut out into the yard eight feet just before a small glacier rock about three feet in diameter. I say this one is small because about fifteen feet to the left of that is two large boulders that are roughly 20 feet in diameter. Surrounded by trees and black raspberry bushes they provide a sanctuary for anything from roaming rabbits to poison sumac and the occasional unsightly serpent.

When I was younger I had spent many afternoons on top the larger of the two pretending I was in some lost land. It resembles a tortoise shell, so The Never Ending Story always came to mind. Some other smaller rocks freckle the rest of this part of the yard, usually making it more of a chore to cut the grass. And go figure, this was always my half to cut. I claimed it, though.Why? Well, the willow tree, of course!

It was transplanted from New Jersey to the center of the yard, not long after moving here to West Virginia almost two decades ago. In that time, it has gone from a mere twig to a majestic 35 feet tall. She sways and ungulates with such grace. A true focal point of not just the lawn, but my life, as well. You see, this tree has a story all her own. History in every single one of her flowing, green tendrils. She is the fourth generation of the tree that my family has owned. She is the granddaughter of the tree that my parents were wed under. So, naturally, I had chosen that I, too, would marry under the willow. I decided this long ago at 14, now that I’m nearing thirty, I will get to live out that dream this fall, just twenty days before turning the big 3-0.

This window has been witness to a few scars, as well. Currently, there is a stitching of gravel hiding a newly placed drainage pipe. The coal mine had gone under our house last summer and had caused damage to our home and that of all of our neighbors’. An underground spring had been effected and started spewing water out of the side of the hill just behind our house and the little yellow wood-shop. They had to divert the water to the ditch that runs along the front of the yard. It sounds like a river, especially the days it rains. The lawn is now pitted and the the ruts contend with the crawfish holes, making for an unsteady trek out to the chickens. Things will be changing soon. This window that I love looking from will no longer exist. I will have a new window, that will look over a different part of the lawn and will bring new perspective. I peer out this window as much as I can now, before I can’t.

I intend to hold onto the fact that this window has seen me grow. Has seen my grandfather push-mowing in the blazing heat, his only shelter a straw hat. It is the same window he had watched from. This window has seen me wipe out on my snowboard. Has seen my sister’s proposal. Has changed with every storm, blade of grass, goldfinch, summer breeze, picnic, deer, and dream.It will see so much more, before it ,unfortunately, looses sight. From this window a tapestry of nature, love, past, present, and future unite. A painting has never come more to life.