Posted tagged ‘windows’

“Often, a school is your best bet-perhaps not for education but certainly for protection from an undead attack.”

January 23, 2018

The weather today is much like yesterday’s except we have a wind strong enough to whip the top branches of the scrub pines, and it has started to rain. I have to go out later so I hope the rain is short-lived.

When I was a kid, I seldom stepped over the line, but I did walk it. In school, during part of the eighth grade, I sat by the windows. The bookcases were under the windows and beside my desk. They were my hiding spots. I kept my transistor radio there and a few pieces of candy. My favorite candies were Mint Julep and Banana Splits both of which were a bit chewy so they lasted longer. When I ate one, I’d hide behind a book so Sister Hildegarde couldn’t see me chewing. I wore one ear piece from my radio in the ear facing the window, away from view, but one day all that subterfuge didn’t matter. My worst fears were realized. I was chewing a spearmint candy and listening to the radio when Sister Hildegarde called on me. I managed to spit the candy into my hand but didn’t have time to pull the ear piece without getting caught. I stood up, as we always did, when called upon. Sister Hildegarde noticed the ear piece. I figured I was doomed, but I wasn’t. Sister Hildegarde thought it was a hearing aid and wanted to know if she was speaking loud enough for me to hear. With a giant sigh of relief, I said she was. If it had been any other nun, I would had to wear that ear piece all year, but, luckily, it was Sister Hildegarde. She forgot.

In my senior year of high school, my desk in English class was right next to the backdoor of the classroom. That proved to be far too much of a temptation. I sneaked out that door more than a few times. I even convinced my friend to join me. It wasn’t that I had anywhere else else go. I just couldn’t resist the challenge. I still don’t understand why Mrs. Baker didn’t notice the sudden appearance of an empty desk and sometimes two empty desks.

Ironically, for a long time, I was a high school assistant principal in charge of discipline. It was at the same high school I had attended. Every time I did some corridor walking I walked by that back door, I always chuckled a bit.

“This morning’s scene is good and fine, Long rain has not harmed the land.”

October 2, 2015

I never did get around to changing my bed, a nap got in the way. I guess I’ll have to do it today to complete my list. The only problem is I haven’t the energy and I certainly don’t have the enthusiasm. Bed changing doesn’t engender any.

The rain stopped for a bit yesterday afternoon so Gracie and I left for the dump. When we were about half-way there, the rain started again just as I suspected it would. That always happens. It rained all the rest of the day and all night. It is still raining, and there is a wind strong enough to sway the tops of all the trees. The weather forecast in the paper this morning said rain for the next three or four days.

On rainy days my first grade cloakroom was always dark. The walls were made of wood, and there wasn’t any light. When I’d walk into my classroom, all the lights seemed as bright as the sun. The only noise in the classroom was the rain beating against the windows. We spoke only in whispers. I can’t explain why, but it was as if the rain had muted our voices. I was always drawn to the rain on the windows. I’d follow a drop all the way down until it got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared. The nun and my classmates were background murmurings to the rain. That was the year I watched the rain.

My fourth grade classroom was on the second floor. The long windows looked out only to the sky. I was in the last seat in the first row. I had a panoramic view of the whole room but couldn’t see the windows behind me. That was the year I heard the rain.

In the eight grade, my classroom was on the second floor of the new school. My seat was right beside the windows. I could see the whole school yard and the road beside it. I could hear even the smallest drops of rain hit the windows. I could look out and see the rain falling sideways in sheets blown by the wind. Other times the rain fell straight down in a thunderous deluge. The misty rain fell gently, quietly. That was the year I could see and hear the rain.

“The sun burnt every day. It burnt time.”

July 18, 2013

Yesterday I went on the deck to fill feeders and water plants. That was my only visit to the outside world. Today it may reach 90˚ here on the cape for the first time all summer. The rest of the state is in an official heat wave, 90˚ weather three days or more. Today is day four. I have to go out, a no choice errand. I’m already dreading the trip.

I have become intolerant of too much heat and too much cold. Maybe it is because I am so much older than I was. My mother used to keep her heat so high in the winter the rest of us wore t-shirts. When I lived in a hot country, I abided the heat. I had no choice. Now I leave the air-condition running. I think today is day three. My feet get cold so I put on slippers. I think having cold feet in the middle of a heat wave is a wonderful thing.

None of my windows have shades. I have never liked them. I might have gone with blinds, but I didn’t think of them, and I probably would have put them only in the two bathrooms. The windows in the den here and the ones in the dining room have nothing, not even curtains. The window in here facing east is my favorite view of all the windows. From it I can see the trees in the backyard, the bird feeders and the now opened red umbrella on the deck. If I were a painter, I would use water colors to paint my view. The living room lace curtains came from Ireland. I bought them in a store in Dublin. The rest of the rooms have a variety of curtains: valances, full curtains and half curtains with valances. The ones in my bedroom came from India. I bought them on-line. The ones in the guest room came from Bradlees, a store no longer in existence. Soon the upstairs bathroom will have curtains made of cloth from Ghana which matches some of the cloth in my new shower curtain. Grace said she saw the cloth in Accra at a market and will buy it for me. That’s kinda neat when you think about it: there’s the Ghana connection still so strong and the market and cloth and my former student who is 60 or 61 and happy to shop for me but won’t call me by my first name. I am Madam or Miss Ryan.

When I was young, I lived in a cave, not a real cave but a darkened house which resembled a cave. My mother put the shades down in every room to keep out the heat. I remember walking outside and not being able to see because of all that sun. We had morphed into moles.