I live in a glass house. My husband, David, an architect, designed the first half before we met. The other half was added after we were married and expecting our first child. The first half of the house includes our living room. This is the view from my living room. The large, four pane window covers the east wall. I sit on a long, slim, chocolate brown couch opposite the glass wall. Elevated off the floor by thin, brushed metal legs.
I sit. I type. I observe.
I watch the sky, the fields, the deer, the blue herring, the dips and crevices of the land — the light. This view is a gift. A gift that I often take for granted. A gift that gets lost in the rush of life. A gift that I hope this blog will help me appreciate and remember. I often photograph the views to capture a fleeting moment — warmly lit rooms, puffy white clouds, early morning sunrises. Or something else — LIFE. My children doing their homework. Goofy dancing around the Eames surfer table. The life that passes us by before we realize it’s gone.
This will be my blog.
