From my window I see an ultramarine sky holding brushstroke clouds applied with a flourish. Two ibis glide along the cotton wool track, ugly and awkward on land, elegant as kites in the air.

From my window I see a little boy with new sneakers on. The laces are brilliant white as if they have been soaked for hours. He is so proud of them he watches his feet as he walks. He is learning to hop. His feet tangle beneath him. He falls, worried about the sneakers, examining them from every angle to ensure there are no scrapes or scuffs. Hop hop hop, he says. I’m hop hop hoppin’. He is as proud of the hopping as he is of the sneakers.

From my window I see a pair of wood pigeons. Soft gray like the kid gloves they wore in the 1940s. They twitter to one another, devoted, comfortable, as they sift the grass for seeds.

I see over ten butterflies – white, orange and black, stained glass blue. It is a Butterflies Day Out. They are taking in the sights. They nibble at theΒ  jacaranda blossoms that remain after the wind swept through last evening, gathered together as if conversing.

From my window I see a dragonfly. He swoops and hovers as if guided by remote control. His wings are lacy purple. He is a truly elegant creature, not out of place in a box of jewels.

I see the trees, moving in time to the wind. There is an expectant hush as if they are conducting a symphony only they can hear. For the briefest of instants their movement ceases and they appear as a painting on the sky worth something not even the collectors could afford.

From my window I see an elderly couple, walking slowly, but sure-footed still. They look at gardens as they pass, smelling roses, gently touching shrubs. Their contentment is palpable, they know what they’ve got.

From my window I see a sunset. Pink, purple and gold. If I wore a dress in those colours I would cause a sensation. People would come from far and wide to catch the possibility of a shimmer. I would be a goddess of the evening sky.

I see all these things from my window. All day more and more wonders come into view. I want to cheer. Instead, I smile. Such a promise of grace lies beyond the glass. This is a world worth saving.

*Inspired by the Search Engine Stories prompt – from my window.

19 thoughts on “Arcadia

  1. I wish two things right now; 1) that I were as articulate as you and 2) that I could see the view with you too. Excellent, thank you so much Selma πŸ™‚


  2. Oh so beautiful Selma. You touched my heart with your lovely, sunny words. Thanks for another treasure of words.

    I came home to an outpouring of beautiful comments re: Fading Memories, now I get to stop by and read this lovely post. Bravo Selma. πŸ™‚


  3. Excellent. The imagery, repetetion, sonics, and diction give your post a poetic feel. I enjoyed reading it very mich. Thanks, DavidM


  4. This pre-menopause is really kicking in this morning. I’ve only just checked my email and my blog and I’ve been in tears twice- once because of this post.

    We often look around in envy. I wish I had that body, that car, that life, that…..whatever. Telling ourselves if only that would happen my life would be perfect. Nothing but imaginary feathers. True happiness is found in appreciating the joy in each moment; a person who has learned to do that has made a success of their life. Selma, my dear, you have found the way and I’m so happy about that. Lovely post and great way to start my day!


  5. LAURA:
    You definitely are as articulate as me, no question. So glad you liked it!!

    Cheers. I really appreciate that.

    Sounds like we’re both on a roll. YAY!

    Thanks so much. You are very kind!

    Awwww, hon. I have a little cry every now and then too, I must admit. I agree with you about appreciating the joy in every moment. It’s important. I hope I’m on my way to finding my way (if you know what I mean) – that would be brilliant!


  6. You saw the picture of the view from my window on my blog a couple of weeks ago.

    I did toy with the idea of having an Australian-style veranda built around the front of my house, to just sit in and watch the world go by.

    And, I heard a neighbour talking about someone in the next street ‘Whenever a car pulls up; whenever the emergency services go past with the siren going; whenver someone even talks loudly in the street, she’s at her window to see what’s going on’

    Eh? That’s what windows are FOR, ferchrissake!


  7. I love the gorgeous prose Selma. Vivid and pristine…beautiful. I noticed you used the word “twitter” as an actual word–people often forget it is a real word. I used it in a post a while back.

    Have a spectacular week! πŸ™‚


    Now there is nothing wrong at all with running to the window to see what’s going on. I mean, it could be an emergency or something. πŸ˜‰

    How kind of you to say so. I am really grateful!!

    I think people have forgotten ‘twitter’ is a real word too, but it really is the perfect word to describe the sounds of birds chattering. Have a great week yourself!


  9. Lovely to watch the world go by isn’t it?

    Almost makes me want to hop a bit myself. Indeed, in my life I do not hop nearly enough.


  10. NAT:
    you know, you’re right. We should all hop a little bit more. There is such joy in it. I’m going to try it. People will talk but I don’t care. πŸ˜€

    that little boy was adorable. You would have loved him. Such a cutie!!


  11. beautiful all around – your perspectives and celebration of what you see – the rich layered descriptions of it – your choices of what you describe – all the specific details so lyrically wrought make me really feel that I am there beside you watching – thank you for this lovely journey!!


  12. So many beautiful things to see out a window! Surely, it is the beholder that makes them so. πŸ™‚

    Lovely writing – you make us all wish we were there to enjoy it with you. πŸ˜€


    How kind of you to say that. One of my fave things to do is to look at the photos on nature blogs and wish I was there. Some places in the world just look gorgeous. The power of the blog, eh?


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