It's the window

I do believe my outlook would change if I had a window with a view. For one thing, I'd be much more prone to go home at the end of a workday. When you see the sun come up, go over, and come down as you work through your day, it certainly starts to feel like the end of the day when it is, indeed, the end of the day.

Something about flourescent lights creates such a dry feeling of status quo and permanence. Something about the out-of-doors creates...not that. You see where I'm going here?

October, nope, November 5, 2009

Gorgeous day in Chicago. Yes--cold, true, but SUN SUN SUN. I think that while in Tucson the sunset on the mountains, or monsoon thunderstorms, or the expanses of poppies in the spring across the desert floor bring us closer to our maker, here in Chicago it's the days when you squint for a second when you walk outside that bring out that unparalleled joy and gratitude. As someone who was entirely spoiled by warm weather and almost invariably clear skies, I will never take these days for granted again. I don't think many things compare to the desperate joy produced by sunshine as we roll into winter, or more so when we crawl out of it into spring.