|The view from my classroom window.|
The other day I went to class early to get set up. We had snow during the night, but the roads were clear. By the time I was upstairs in my classroom darkness hovered over the town as if nightfall were coming early. It was just another quick storm passing through.
I had my camera with me so I took this photo from my classroom window. I didn't think much of the photo until I downloaded it later. It caught me by surprise how stunningly beautiful my town is in the winter. Quiet. As you can see no one is out, children are in school, folks are working or staying inside writing letters or watching reruns of "Matlock." Surreal.
How do we choose a town, a village, a city, an island to live in? Or does it choose us? Do our roots tangle up with others in our hometowns or do we make our hometowns by pushing down those roots to feel at home?
As the students came to class I was still standing at the window just watching. Most came to window to see what I was out the window. "What are you looking at?" they asked as they peered through the glass. I said to them, "Everything, I am looking at everything."
They nodded or shook their heads as they took their seats.
What do we see from the upstairs window?