The Scenes from the Window

A place you can go, to stand and just, watch, and get lost in the beauties, translated…

The painting of Pissarro, “Sweing Near a Window”, was inspired by his observations of what he saw from his home in Pontuwatz, the fore scene was his wife feeding the chickens, with the middle sights of the ranch and in the distance, the mountains.  There’s also a scene like this where I live, it’s in three-dimension, and constantly, flowing, changing with the seasons, the times of day.

one of Pissarro’s paintings

from online

My house is close to the mouth of the river, without the obstructions, in the summer, the sun radiated in from the west, in the typhoon seasons, there’s, that being in the midst of the storm.  The endlessness of the skies, the vast of the oceans, seemed to be a sort of a make-up for the hard hitting weather conditions, they’re so very, varied, with their own separate ways of description, they’d reflected each other, and I never get tired, of looking at the sights.

The mouth of the river was blue and green, or when it’s mixed in with the mud, becoming brownish yellow, it’s the raging rain from upstream in Danshui River, the sand and mud that got washed downstream.  Every now and then, the hurried calls of the wind made the waves atop of surfaces run to and fro, pushing one another around.  When it’s stable, peaceful, a deep blue shade, it had that sort of, a deep kind of serenity to it, forecasted that it will be a sunny afternoon.  In the afternoon, the oceans caught the dying rays of the sun, the colors shifted from silvery white to gold, to orange red, swaying on the surfaces.  It, not, she—is a woman, of many facets.

The skies are, quite creative, not on how different they are from day to day, but from moment to moment.  It’s changes come so quick that we can’t, ever catch up, even if we ride that speedy steed.

As the sun sank toward the horizon, less hurtful on my eyes, I’d, gone to stand by my window again, to take in this, “scenic painting by my own window”.  As the sun slowly, hidden itself behind the clouds, the orangy yellow and golden clouds floated in the skies, above, there were the white, gray, dark gray shades of the cirrus clouds, gathering around two places in the skies.  “There are two fish up in the skies”, I was like a young child, who’d discovered something out of the ordinary.  My husband who was switching out the batteries of the scale asked, “how can fish get high up in the skies?”.  “I’ll show you”.  I’d come, prepared, turned on the camera of my cell phone, “snap”.  Other than looking at the scenes in the moment as they occurred, I’d loved capturing them in photos.  The fish made by the scaly clouds seemed especially, animated, like the fish painted out by the impressionist.

illustration from UDN.com

Pissarro is a “painter by the windows”, I’m a woman, who’d not sorted through the household chores, and, got drawn to the windows, I’m never leaving this place of this sight again in this life.

And so, this is how we can be in awe, of the smallest things, like how this woman enjoyed watching the clouds change, the colors in the skies change with the different times of day at her windows, and, it inspired her, gives her that sense of peace in her mind that she’s in need of.