Nudged: Open all the windows
I am so over the rain! While our storms weren’t as bad as much of the world’s this winter, I’m still suffering from a case of cabin fever. Worse, my house is starting to smell like we’ve been shut in for months (i.e., every room smells like wet dogs). With fingers crossed that the weather cooperates, one day this week I plan to fling open every window and let in the fresh air.
What Happened: I wasted no time on this one. With a break from the rain, I went room to room and opened every window with a screen (see spiders in “Sweep the cobwebs” Nudge). Each time I flung open a window, I took in several deep breaths. The air was cold, bracing.
Dining room, living room, bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, office. These are rooms I inhabit every day. But do I live in them? Do I appreciate what each has to offer?
I paused in the guest room to take in the view of a patch of blue sky visible just over a neighbor’s roofline. Outside the bedroom I got a view of scaffolding from our neighbors’ recent construction (rain damage, ugh!) and recalled how gracious and considerate the young men were who worked so hard on the repairs. My favorite view was from our front bay window. From across the street, I watched our young neighbor, holding his infant son, step out onto their front porch for a break in his routine. He wasn’t checking his phone or watering the plants or picking up the day’s newspaper. Just cradling his son, rocking back and forth gently, and truly being in the moment. It was so sweet.
The Ah-Hahs: Along with fresh air, I let in natural light, which reminded me how much I need light. Both Thor and I grew up in Southern California, and near-constant sunlight is one of the things I still miss.
This hit home recently when I was looking at assisted living places for my parents. Several check the boxes for their criteria, but we can’t really assess a space till we see it in person. One place I toured virtually has just three small windows. I would feel stifled. I want my parents to have as much light as possible, especially if in their later years they are less able to get outside.
As I type this, I’m looking out the big window next to my desk. It overlooks our ridiculously overgrown backyard (i.e., full of weeds), yet it gives me a sense of space. That gives me a sense of freedom, of room for growth, of possibilities.
I set out to delight my sense of smell, ended up delighting my sense of sight with pure light and lovely views, and ultimately delighted my soul. All because I opened a few windows.
