Through the Kitchen Window

I am sitting at the kitchen table and looking out of the window. This is where I measure the changes of season; decide on what the day’s weather will bring; enjoy the fuchsia, pink and grey tones of the winter sunrise and examine the spiders’ webs that lace our small window panes at this time of year.

A frequent sight in October – or other times of year too.

In the middle distance is a line of trees.  Now they’re newly stark for winter. A few weeks ago we observed them daily as the leaves turned first yellow, then tawny, chestnut and rust. Slowly the leaves started to fall.  Then as November raged in, the wind snatched at them until finally last week, a storm bad-temperedly tore at the final tatters and flung them to the ground. 

The view – sometimes – in January.

In Spring, it will all be reversed.  At first, perhaps in earliest April, a citric haze on the trees will tell us that the buds are bursting, and will change daily, as the once-visible twigs and branches gradually leaf up, and disappear from view. 

During that time though, while the branches are still visible, there’s plenty of action.  Birds are home-hunting, prospecting for that perfect spot for a nest.  Then there’s frenetic activity in the still-bareish trees as crows and wood pigeons flap back and forth, bringing twigs, feathers, moss, constructing untidy structures that despite their appearance are obviously sturdy enough – they’re still there now, high in the top branches. The smaller birds are more discreet, and though they build in the bushes and foliage nearer the house, we rarely see their nests.  No, not even those of the sparrows, who cheep frenetically in the ivy below the window from the first moment they choose a site there, until the last fledgling has flown the nest.

The view in May

Nearer is the brick wall of our landlord’s walled garden. This is where a line of pear trees grows, with, in early summer, pink clematis scrambling through. 

The clematis atop the wall one early evening in May.

Next to them are three lilac trees.  One is purple, one mauve, and the third one white.  For two weeks only – in May – they flower, riotously, casting bloom after scented bloom skywards.  After that they die sulkily, and look quite ugly for weeks.  It doesn’t pay to be away in May and return in June.

Glancing upwards, there are often skeins of geese on flying missions between one neighbourhood lake and another, or in the summer (though less and less frequently these days), swooping and shrieking patrols of swifts.

I can show you neither geese nor swifts, but I can show you a cheeky squirrel who commandeered the window ledge one afternoon in September

So many sights and sounds to enjoy, so much action in the scenes just beyond our window panes.  Never a week goes by without one of us saying to the other ‘Aren’t we lucky to be here? How could we ever move away?’

For Tina’s Lens-Artists Challenge #325: Gratitude
And Georgina’s Nature Writing for November: Looking through a window.


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Author: margaret21

I'm retired and live in North Yorkshire, where I walk , write, volunteer and travel as often as I can.

66 thoughts on “Through the Kitchen Window”

  6. Truly a fantastic post with both the way you weave words and the photographs. You include so much of the changing seasons and I love the sulky lilacs, yes too short a show but indeed gratitude for all of the trees. I love the cheeky squirrel. Thanks for joining in I will treasure this one and link it again with next post.

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  11. How lovely to be able to look through your kitchen window with you and enjoy these changing scenes! It’s especially wonderful to have trees to look out on and to measure the seasons by. Even in our built-up London suburb we’re lucky to have street trees immediately outside our front door, to enjoy from the bedroom window in particular, and others visible from the back garden (aka patio aka yard!) Has Storm Bert battered you and your trees this morning? We’re even feeling his impact down here, mainly with strong winds.

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  13. I SO loved your response this week Margaret – framing your world using the window is marvelous! And oh that cheeky squirrel, how fun is that?! You do indeed live in a wondrous place with wonderful nature available at every glance – lucky you! No wonder you are grateful 😊

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    1. This morning, every last flake has disappeared and it’s 14 degrees, as it was all night. And now the temperature’s due to fall all through the day. How bizarre is that?

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  17. Yes, Margaret, you are lucky to be there. These photos are beautiful. I also liked your poetic text going from season to season. A beautiful post all around!

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  24. How nice it must be to observe the changing seasons through your kitchen window Margaret. I should say beautiful seasons. Flowers so colorful to winter’s white. And that squirrel, what a ham!

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  27. Pingback: Nature Writing – Looking Through the Window 2. | NavasolaNature

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