I love the view from my office.  It’s on the second floor overlooking a sloped porch roof to the swimming pool at the back of the lot, and a grove of birch trees beyond.  In the spring the newness of lime green leaves budding on trees signals rebirth both worldly and internal.  Bluebirds like to visit as do cardinals, and while I’m not a bird fanatic, the fact the like it here makes me smile.  Summer’s heat makes the pool look inviting even if I rarely have time for a swim, and fall’s palette or oranges and yellows remind me of the time our daughter was born in early October as the pageant of leafy colors surrounded us.

Yet winter is the most special of views, as black and white contrasts from snow and branch, and reveals what’s at the core – inviting us to do the same.  Unfortunately right fully two-third of my view is snow bank where I can’t see much of anything, except windswept bluster rearranging the white stuff, and more snow falling on top of the mound.  And the storm window about that is 2/3 frozen over and frosted beyond a view.

I’ve pretty much given up hope of a snowshoe in NH today considering it’s probably zero visibility and biting winds – the kind the mean frostbite in minutes -are in the forecast.   The movie selection around here is lousy and while I’d love to see “Wild,” being R rated the repeater box in the house (see earlier post) probably would gather another gem of a swear word to share with his teachers.  I baked so many cookies this week that any more are a diet risk.  We already did one favorite weekend pastime – swimming at the gym – yesterday afternoon and while J. could swim all day long, W. is likely to protest another forced lap-march today as he has to water-walk the same number of laps as his age, and Heaven forbid when he must walk my age-number.  The above of course presume we can get out of our driveway in today’s snows.

So, I watch the wind blow, I think about how I’m going to enlarge my guys skills while not getting fired for not completing work-work that I can’t seem to bring myself to do on a Sunday morning when there’s blog posts to write and chores undone.  I think about the transition steps not fully explored, the friend with whom I’ve been meaning to network on her kid’s transition, the organization doing local programming that might be a fit, the social story I’ve got on the to-do list today, etc. etc.  I so feel the storm, but I want the vision – and right now it’s blocked.

Time for a break.   Time to stand up and get more hot coffee.  Time to rouse the boys lest they sleep all day and god forbid stay up past midnight to hassle me at my worst hour and raid the fridge while I yell “get to bed!”.  – And time to notice that I can see my beloved view as I rise, on the move to somewhere different – and on the way to something new.