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Post by moonglum on Apr 28, 2007 13:32:18 GMT -6
Just thought I'd share this. The view from my window. At this time of year I never tire of it.  MG
Edited to resize image so that it doesn't widen the page. ~~ Joxcee / \ Mini-Mia
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Post by vox on Apr 28, 2007 14:09:40 GMT -6
Must just say that garden is not our garden, that's the neighbours one!
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Post by Mini Mia on Apr 28, 2007 19:11:38 GMT -6
Nice view. 
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Post by Phalon on Apr 29, 2007 6:50:44 GMT -6
Beautiful, Moonglum and Vox. If it were my view, I don't think I'd ever want to leave the room - except to be outside in all that.
What is growing in the field of yellow? It looks kinda like mustard from my view....but that's a hell of a lot of mustard.
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Post by moonglum on Apr 29, 2007 12:36:58 GMT -6
It's Rape-seed. Used to make a cooking oil. The farmers get such a good price for it that at this time of the year almost the whole country is yellow.
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Post by Siren on Apr 30, 2007 19:34:50 GMT -6
Very pretty, Moonglum. Thank you for sharing.
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Post by Phalon on Apr 30, 2007 21:34:20 GMT -6
Rape-seed - I've never heard of it. Such a pretty yellow - there is just something about yellow that sings 'spring' to me.
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Post by moonglum on May 22, 2008 14:21:24 GMT -6
The yellow fields are green this year. One of the disadvantages of crop-rotation that I'd forgotten about. I have to drive now to bask in the glow of that yellowest of yellows. Ho Hum.
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Post by Phalon on May 31, 2008 6:07:16 GMT -6
Yellow is beautiful, but ahhhh....green is beautiful too, no? Thinking about your comment, Moonglum, in your 'mornings' thread about things being paved over so quick it makes your head spin.
That is one of my biggest frustrations living in this area and watching things change so quickly. The eco-system along the lake is fragile; a mix of dune, forest, and wet-lands, and much of it is protected. But never-the-less, the area is being destroyed at an alarming rate by needless development.
Economic growth. Pfft. The development does little to stimulate the economy of the small towns along the lakeshore. Most of the developers and contractors are from out-of-state - the Chicago area mainly - and the people who are buying these million-dollar homes are full-time Chicago residents too; they are only "summer people", and the houses will only be occupied a few months out of the year.
The latest development is truly a monstrosity; I hadn't been by it in a while, but took an alternate route home from work the other day and my jaw dropped in disbelief when I saw the progression. The whole area, of course, was clear-cut to allow a free-from-trees view of the lake. That's nothing new. But because the houses on the most east side of the development would have the view blocked by the houses built closest to the lake, huge berms were built and the houses perched on top of them. It looks like a series of giant gumdrops all lined in a row.
Aside from a lack of aesthetics, the horrible thing about this is the whole development is built on a 'supposedly' protected "fragile dune site". Everyone is wondering how the developer got around this. Unfortunately the fines they will pay are far less than the millions they will make selling the homes.
Grrrr. Sorry for mucking up your thread with my rant. I need a cup of coffee now...out on the front porch, watching the birds in my garden, and listening to the breeze in the trees.
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Post by moonglum on May 31, 2008 15:47:19 GMT -6
(Grrrr. Sorry for mucking up your thread with my rant. I need a cup of coffee now...out on the front porch, watching the birds in my garden, and listening to the breeze in the trees.)
No problem, rant away. Your comment about 'an alternate route home' made me think also. I hadn't really thought of this thread as being about anything other than a view through a house/office window. You know, that moment when typing stops, the brain wanders and day-dreams fog our eyes. We do see a myriad of things through vehicle windows as well though, don't we?
Developers, where do they live? I havn't worked in London for about 25 years. This job however, has taken me back into the city and I don't recognise it. The buildings that I knew are gone. The skyline is totally different. I can only assume that this is where they live. The worst thing, though, is that they want me to live in their world. They want to take my world and urbanise it. It nearly happened a few years back. It still could! They proposed putting a 'by-pass' road right through the middle of that yellow field. The way 'developers' work over here is, they say to the local authority; 'If you give us plannining permission to build houses on either side of it, we'll build your by-pass for you for nothing'. One morning I could wake up and find that 'View From A Window' has changed and I'm in the middle of a housing estate.
Until then, I shall bask in the views of rural villages and try to avoid 'their world'.
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Post by Phalon on Jun 8, 2008 7:43:29 GMT -6
"A View From a Window" can be not only what we see looking through a glass pane, but it can mean looking from one world into another; from your world into mine, or the present into the past, yes?
I heard a story recently about a view from a window: it was a train window. A woman in the little writer's group I meet with at the library, grew up in the outskirts of London during the war. Recently, she returned to England for a genealogy trek, searching out names and places she uncovered in the annuals of her family's history. It took her throughout much of the country - some places she'd never been, and some she was familiar with from her youth. Those familiar places were barely recognizable to her, they'd changed so much: everything seemed smaller and more closed in, as she looked out of the train window. Even the big leather suitcase her mother used to pack to go on trips when she was a child, which now resides in her attic here in the States, she thought now, seemed not very big at all, though as a child, held the entire family's possessions for these "holidays" taken by train.
It's all about perspective, isn't it? The view depends on from which window we're peering. The train window showed her the present, but also took her back to the past. We do the same. We look out our windows - those in vehicles, or buildings, and make comparisons about how things were, and the changes that are taking place in the world around us.
And her story was a window for me to look into places I've never been, and a time other than my own. Which brings me to your "Morning" thread....hopefully soon, (I've been meaning to get to it for a while now). Right now though, my morning is waning, and the world outside my window begs me to get out and enjoy it.
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Post by Siren on Jun 9, 2008 8:01:40 GMT -6
Very nice writing, Gams. You're so good!
Quote: "Those familiar places were barely recognizable to her, they'd changed so much: everything seemed smaller and more closed in, as she looked out of the train window. Even the big leather suitcase her mother used to pack to go on trips when she was a child, which now resides in her attic here in the States, she thought now, seemed not very big at all..."
I've had that same experience in my high school gym and hometown library. They both used to seem huge to me, but are now kind of quaint.
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Post by moonglum on Jun 9, 2008 14:36:47 GMT -6
Very nice writing, Gams. You're so good! Very good indeed. Very philosophical in places, provoking much thought. |
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Post by Phalon on Jun 13, 2008 3:57:41 GMT -6
Thanks for the kind words, guys, about my post. But really - it was just one of those rambling moments of mine, in which I was sure what I wanted to say, but wasn't quite sure what I was saying. (Have another sip of coffee, Phalon. You're not quite awake yet, and making little sense.) Philosophical? BOLL, Moonglum! I've been called many things, (Katina calls me Lady; can you believe it?), but philosophical was never one of them.
But one of I things I think is really neat here; one of the most enjoyable things about this board for me is getting to know all these unique people from different parts of the world, and seeing, through what they write, what they experience where they live, and how they feel about these experiences.
Siren said in another thread my (A) cup runneth over with really classy on-line friends, and I agree. If not for this window that is my computer screen, I'd never have had the opportunity to take a peek into your worlds, and would have missed out on the chance to get to know all you wonderful people.
I need to grab some more coffee and wake up a bit; it seems too early to be waxing sentimental.
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Post by Phalon on Jul 13, 2008 6:32:53 GMT -6
Sometimes, looking through a window is more than just a view - it's a complete sensory package.
During this time of year for a kid BP's age, an open window might provide the following experience. You usually hear it long before it comes into sight. The muscial sound makes you forget dinner is almost ready; for the moment, the anticipation of it coming into view is the only thing on your mind. Your face is pressed against the window, excited with anticipation at its arrival. It seems to take forever as it slowly makes its way towards you. Finally, it rounds the corner, your mouth starts to salivate, and you yell, "It's the ice-cream truck!!!!"
Running out to the street to greet the ice-cream man, even if there food is on the table and there is ice-cream in your freezer, is a sweet summertime rite of kidhood. Every once in a while, it's okay to ruin your appetite for dinner.
Not so sweet was my experience the other day driving home from work on a hot and humid afternoon. What's that god-awful smell? Damn, I had to have stepped in something getting into my truck; it reeks so bad I cringe in disgust, and my stomach turns. I think of the last customers I waited on, who had their dog with them, wondering if they smelled it too, and it's only now, inside the small enclosed cab of my truck, that I notice it. Taking my foot off the gas, I kick my shoes off, and toss them through the sliding rear window, and into the truck bed. Nope. The stench is still overbearing. At least it wasn't me, I think, relieved my customers didn't have to bear the smell also, (even if it was their dog who caused it).
Did something die in here? Some animal that got in and was now rotting in the summer heat?
And then I noticed movement from the back of the truck just up ahead of me. Hogs. I was following a semi-load of hogs, and I was boxed in; the steady stream of cars to my left prevented me from passing it. The next five miles seemed to last forever as I stared at the ass-end of a truck providing me with the sights and smells of the ass-ends of a bunch of hogs.
By the time I got home, I had no appetite for dinner. I would have much rather have had it ruined by eating ice-cream.
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Post by Mini Mia on Jul 14, 2008 1:00:50 GMT -6
. . . .
Not so sweet was my experience the other day driving home from work on a hot and humid afternoon. What's that god-awful smell? Damn, I had to have stepped in something getting into my truck; it reeks so bad I cringe in disgust, and my stomach turns. I think of the last customers I waited on, who had their dog with them, wondering if they smelled it too, and it's only now, inside the small enclosed cab of my truck, that I notice it. Taking my foot off the gas, I kick my shoes off, and toss them through the sliding rear window, and into the truck bed. Nope. The stench is still overbearing. At least it wasn't me, I think, relieved my customers didn't have to bear the smell also, (even if it was their dog who caused it).
Did something die in here? Some animal that got in and was now rotting in the summer heat?
And then I noticed movement from the back of the truck just up ahead of me. Hogs. I was following a semi-load of hogs, and I was boxed in; the steady stream of cars to my left prevented me from passing it. The next five miles seemed to last forever as I stared at the ass-end of a truck providing me with the sights and smells of the ass-ends of a bunch of hogs.
By the time I got home, I had no appetite for dinner. I would have much rather have had it ruined by eating ice-cream.
At least your farmer neighbor didn't use liquefied hog crap to fertilize his fields across the road from your house. Try smelling it for days, and during mealtimes. 
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Post by Phalon on Jul 14, 2008 4:33:42 GMT -6
Poor, Joxie! I don't think I could stand it. Not demure, is the smell of manure.
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Post by Mini Mia on Jul 14, 2008 16:25:40 GMT -6
Well that was when I was a teen, and the farmer sold his place and has since died, so that hasn't happened in ages. The last owners broke up the part of the farm they bought into lots and now I have houses instead of empty fields back behind my place.
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Post by Mini Mia on Aug 12, 2009 20:09:05 GMT -6
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Post by Phalon on Aug 12, 2009 22:29:27 GMT -6
Ooo, neat site, Joxie - thanks for posting. I love strolling through other people's gardens.
And did you see that big, fat toad! I bet Siren would need both hands for that one when she scooped it up to kiss.
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Post by Mini Mia on Aug 12, 2009 23:40:45 GMT -6
I missed it the first time. Looked like mud to me. 
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