The View From Here

As someone who occasionally dips her toe into Buddhist teachings, I understand that desiring more than what you have is an endless game that cannot be won. But it’s such a common human tendency that someone long ago had to come up with a commandment about not coveting, right? Aren’t we all striving for something more/better? – whether it’s a promotion, a kitchen renovation, a new car/truck/tractor, the latest version of the i-whatever, those great boots you saw last week, or even more daylilies? How many people can truly say they’re absolutely content with what they have, and mean it for more than a day?

“View envy” is one of my bugaboos. When I was a small child in central Massachusetts, my family lived in a tiny house atop a hill. Our little living room had two picture windows. Out the front window was a vista of rooftops, trees, and chimneys, sending up plumes of white smoke on cold winter days. I used to stand on the sofa and look out that window, imagining all the people inside those houses and what they were doing. And out the large side window, way off in the hazy distance, was Mount Monadnock. It loomed in my imagination as some faraway, magical place.

Nowadays, in my fantasy world, I look out my imaginary window across fields and foothills to a magnificent up-close panorama of Mount Monadnock. Last week a friend told me that she’s thinking of selling her house, and described a view like that as hers. Of course my brain started whirring … but selling and moving, just for a view, is so ludicrous that even I can see it (no pun intended), and set those thoughts aside. For now.

And just a few days ago, a friend in Washington State posted photos of her family’s latest hiking trip … with incredibly tall, majestic, snow-capped peaks in the background. This is the kind of view that makes our Monadnock seem, well, rather less incredible. It’s that round-and-round thing … there’ll always be something better out there.

Real estate appraisers say that the most desirable views are from up high, and the more panoramic, the better. How about a hilltop with an ocean view? – and mountains on the other side? Not even close to possible for most of us!

A few years ago I read Diane Ackerman’s book, Cultivating Delight: A Natural History of My Garden. One aspect of her approach (which was a new-to-me idea but might be a “duh!” for you) is that she carefully plans and plants particular vistas that she will enjoy from different windows of her home. Now, this particularly makes sense for one whose profession is writing, who spends great stretches of time in her home office; but the more I thought about it, it seemed that creating your own view is a brilliant idea for any of us. Even if you have a small suburban lot, you can create something pleasing in your line of vision – a perfectly-placed garden, statuary, a flowering bush or tree, perhaps a flowering vine climbing up a fence or wall.

Mind you, Ms. Ackerman has a pair of gardeners to carry out her creative plans, not to mention the wherewithal to install lovely trees and bushes of good size, an astonishing variety of perennials in various gardens, and ideal habitats to attract a variety of birds and other wildlife that she enjoys. It sounds delightful, impressive, expensive, and like something that takes years to establish. But as we plan our gardens, or ponder where to install a little pond complete with waterfall, we usually make our considerations from various vantage points around our yards, outside of the house; adding the view from indoors adds a new dimension.

As I look out my kitchen and office windows, I see some of my flower gardens, one with a birdhouse that was occupied by chickadees in the spring; this summer, I’ve been able to watch hummingbirds visit the bee balm as I sit at my computer. There’s a huge old willow, more than fifty years old, that gives us much-needed summer shade. Beyond the gardens, our hillside, with tall green grasses waving in the springtime, and now with swaths of goldenrod in late summer, and needing a fall mowing. And beyond that, the Pinnacle, not really a mountain but a forested hill so large and high that we were surprised at how long it takes to climb to the top. In spite of my Monadnock desires, I’ve come to cherish this particular vista, and how it changes with the seasons. And of course I’d like to add a few things … one or two spring-flowering shrubs or trees; maybe a few maples along the edge of the hillside.

My daughter, who lives in a third-floor apartment, looks out her kitchen windows into the tops of maple trees, a lush forest of green leaves that turn various shades in autumn; it’s like being in a tree house. A friend has a beautiful Japanese red maple outside her kitchen window, and another fills her little kitchen porch with tall potted herbs and flowers, visible through the door and windows. And another looks out from her table to a rustic arbor, covered with vines. So many different ways to delight the senses!

What’s your ideal view? What do you like the best when you look out your window? What would you like to create?