Fragments From Floyd

That poem is a good argument for abolishing zoos.

I see lots of trees out my windows, and if I were to move from here, they are what I would miss the most.

Hi Fred,
On a clear day ( it is snowing right now) you can see the view from my window at my web cam!
http://www.westsideav.com/KEYcam/WaveWEBcam.lasso
That's Mount Washington.

We have the best of both worlds. Right now, when winter has stripped the leaves we view the whole of the Ararat valley, Mt. Airy, Pilot Mountain and on a good day beyond. When the leaves come back we are enclosed in the security of the forest.

"There are no distant vista, only this wooded bowl of valley, and our view ends at our perimeter of ridgelines."

Well said. This is what makes your area special. It is the fact that you cannot see what is over the next ridge that acts as a catalyst for the imagination. Anything could lie there, so in a sense, anything is possible. "Climb" the mountain and tell us what you see.

Thanks for those thoughts, Fred. Having just moved into your neighborhood, we too cherish the views from every window. The sunsets are very spectacular.

We need to savor all these views...like smelling the roses!

One of my favorite window views over at our place in Boones Mill is:

Cahas Mountain

Cahas Mountain is, I think, one of Virginia's most beautiful mountains and those who look North from our home are blessed with an intimate full frontal view of the mountain and the valley below it. At night, the city lights from Roanoke cast a purple glow behind the mountain such that the mountain is always visible on our horizon even during the darkest of nights.

Sean

You may not have stopped to think that those that read your blog are those that love the view,the out doors, the freedom of space so most of your comments will be FOR a view from their windows. Love it. We built our little house with many large windows.

From my office window I see a beautiful tree that I have drawn, photographed, and watch change over the 4 seasons. When I retire, I would truly miss that old tree.
At home, a 10th floor condo with lots of large windows, I would miss the sight of all the night lights twinkling over the city. As I face southeast, I have the rosy glow of the morning sun creeping in to grab my attention, give me a hug and urge me to come have a look at what a wonderful day it is outside my window, in my neighborhood!

the views you all speak of make me sigh wistfully... brought up in the almost-country, just a few steps from my door were open fields that harboured crops and then, later, horses grazing there. In the near distance - only about a mile tops across the fields and easily reached even as a 10 year old, were the first trees of ancient Hainault Forest (where Henry 8th used to go play). In the other direction, lay 'the pine woods' and beyond that Bedfords Park.. another part of Henry's estates i think, complete with its deer. So woodlands of various hues either sides, open fields, horses... what more could a child need? and all linked by an unbroken arc of sky.

Now my perimeters are foreshortened: from my front windows i can see other houses standing directly opposite across a narrow wakway called a Banjo due to its shape. Cutting across the end of this is the kiddies' school, with an ugly church just off to the side (honestly, its just grey blocks of stone that look like concrete but are sandstone and straight and really, really ugly). Every where's just tarmac and pavers and housing. There are some heroic london planes dotted all around, but they get coppiced(?) each year and will shortly resemble some angry fist defying the sky. What you can see of the sky that is. What you CAN see of the sky is, naturally, wonderful, and i find my thoughts reaching up there rather than look at the surroundings, but even so we (and many neighbours in the area) have done what we can to address all these straight lines and iron railings, by planting trees. All different types. From native maples to firs to fruit trees. Even the two schools, side by side, have tried their best with honey-locusts, cherries, sycamores and such, including the red-leaved varieties. The church too. Come spring the ugliness is softened considerably by great swathes of pinks and whites, confetti on the breeze, and then the racemes of the honey-locusts drip like gold. All these trees have helped the area a lot, and we have many urban foxes, squirrels too, and a wealth of bird-life for an urbanised area such as ours. If all i ever saw were buildings; no ever-changing skies to inspire me; no trees to visually devour? i'd quite simply lose the will to live life at all. For a natural roamer, such as the panther, it must be hell... thank goodness for new zoos, who are aware of the problems animals can suffer in unnatural conditions and try to make the creatures' surroundings as natural as possible. Born into captivity is probably etter than being caught wild and not being able to accustomise to restrictions. Don't you think a lot of the cities suffer so much from violence due to the confining of people into such small houses with little or no natural wonderment to their environment? figures to me.

As a child growing up in Piper's Gap, my sisters and I had a favorite play area that was a bluff on a steep incline with a small creek at the bottom. We had to hold onto the trees to make our way down to the bottom. We named it "Sweethearts' Canyon." (We were nothing if not romantics.)

Fast forward 45 years, I now own a small farm in Florida. On the north side of the property, just outside my office window, is an old railroad bed that hasn't been used for about 80 years now. I live on a hill, and they cut about
15-20 feet down into the hill to run the railroad bed. They planted live oaks all along the incline, no doubt to keep the dirt from washing down into the railroad bed. Now they're grandaddy oaks and home to an assortment of birds, squirrels, and I don't know what all. The incline is so steep, you have to hold onto the trees to make your way to the bottom. This is my Sweethearts' Canyon. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell the white pine and birch, and I can almost hear the creek gurgling at the bottom and my Mom calling me home.