Views Change

Views across the way change.

They always change seasonally, and thank God for that.

By mid-summer my view to this kitchen porch is full of tall pepper plants, jalapeño and serrano peppers mostly, although we grow our basil here too for easy snipping.

During December my view while I was working in the kitchen was to a simply decorated Christmas tree, an excuse really for lights-- pink and purple lights.

We took the tree down yesterday but left white lights along the porch railing. And I finished packing away everything Christmas in the house except for books and magazines. But I reduced our Christmas bins to three clear ones, and when you consider that I took 13 Christmas bins to Florida in 2016, in addition to leaving tons at home to family, that's something I'm proud of.

Well there is that niche in the wall that my aunt's large ship painting covers where a former owner must have sat his large old fashioned television--that's stuffed with all of my Dept. 56 Christmas trees.

All of the bloggers who are now showing beautiful crisp January interiors? That's not happening here, not yet, who knows when if ever. This is not a crisp house. 

Right now this house and the two porches are just bare from Christmas touches. That's all I can say. 

I miss the lights at night, inside and out. The views at Home Hill, inside and out don't look winter comfort-y yet. We've had no snow to look out at and only one morning where our garden gave a tiny Tennessee approximation of the frosty gardens in my gorgeous December British magazines.

It's like Spring here this week, and I'm not ready for Spring. I'm an Autumn and Winter woman and Winter has just started, for gracious sakes! 

I've really got to work in the days ahead at bringing winter cozy to this house, sans Christmas decor. Our 60 degree days are supposed to end soon so I can break out the hot chocolate and tartan throws and wooly blankets for the beds--those things that we had in November. I want them back, in January and February at least. Then in March I'll start wishing for Spring to come when I'll be looking out at flowering trees and bulbs blooming--oh wait, we never did get around to planting any bulbs this fall because--wait for it--it felt like Winter then.

There is one perfect and cozy and beautiful view outside my kitchen door that I get to see a dozen times a day, this one:

"We pottied, Mama. We were good babies.

We want to come in now.

Open the door, please!

That's a view I never tire of.

Right up there with seeing two little granddaughters hop out of their parents' car for a good visit. 

So I remind myself there are good views across the way. Our neighbor's American flag blows out and whips in the wind. Mallards and Canada geese swim on the pond. Buzzards perch on a tree across the street, many of them, kind of creepy. 

Sunrises...

 and sunsets...

have been particularly magnificent this week. 

And always, at the end of the day, there is the view of RH pulling in the driveway in his truck, stopping and walking over to the mailbox, BreeBree and James Mason going nuts inside barking when they spot him through the window, and then seeing him pull up to the gate and get out.

Another day ends and it was a good one because the very best view of all comes from things that have a heartbeat.

And thank God for that.