I came home from New York to the glory of hellebores.
The first couple of days after my return it was raining but warm. It seems Spring is springing in East Tennessee. Perhaps it is early; I worry a bit about that, but perhaps also we just had a condensed cold winter. Anyway, I am happy for the flowers and the light, although I cannot say that I am looking forward to when the leaves on the trees come out, and the large tree outside my office window blocks the light. I suppose this means I need to seriously consider future plans for the yard and make a decision as to whether that tree will stay or go. The time is now, or very soon anyway.
In the meantime I am reveling in the light.
Sunday afternoon a friend came over and we tackled the windows. We removed all the screens and storms from the windows that have them (mostly upstairs) except for two windows which are painted closed. That is a problem that needs to be rectified, but it can wait until other work is done in that same room. Several were jammed and it took two of us to get them out; I broke one in the effort, although I am not particularly upset about it. I wrote previously about how I hate both storms and screens, and yet I accept that I may need them. At the moment I am of mixed minds. Whatever I decide, they needed to be unstuck and come out for cleaning. In the future I should be able to put them in and out without assistance, should I decide to do so.
There are only three windows downstairs that had screens, and they are mostly in the shade sheltered by greenery, so it may not matter at all. In the upstairs rooms it has made a tremendous difference in the amount of light in my office (second photo) in my bedroom and even in the hall, where the mirror resides. As I sit here, writing this post, the office windows are open and I am caressed by a gentle warm breeze. There is contentment in a job completed, in the light, the soft spring, in the flower out the window, even the sound of the cars passing on the street below, a contentment in being in one's own place, accepting the act of living and breathing and just living one's own life, and knowing that that, alone, is enough.