My Window: Creating Some Pleasantness When You

My Window: Creating Some Pleasantness When You’re Sick

Like many of you, since I’ve been diagnosed with COPD (I’m stage three) my mobility has become severely limited. I am basically limited to my house and yard. We live in the country and have a bit of acreage but I can only walk about 20 feet from the house before I’m out of breath. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Sounds awful, doesn’t it? Boring, for sure. Isolated. Lonely. Please keep reading. Because without my limitations due to COPD I may not have discovered one of the most important outlets of my life: I have a window.

I know, what’s so special about a window? Everybody has a window. Ah, but my window looks out onto a magical place; it shares beautiful scenes with me and I watch tiny lives going about their adventures. No, I haven’t lost my mind and, no, this isn’t a made-up, fictional place in a fairytale. It’s simply the world of nature.

Here’s how I found it:

I got depressed because of my illness, and so about a year and a half ago I moved my home office from my dark bedroom to a spare room. This spare room had a good sized window that let in a lot of light from the sun, so I hoped that would help cheer me up. It also looked out over the side yard and the garden, as an added bonus.

As time went by I couldn’t work as much. But sitting at my desk in front of my window, I started to notice more. Important Things were happening outside.

A hover fly lands on a wildflower.
A hover fly lands on a wildflower.

There was a huge tree overlooking the side yard area with four large trunks splitting off from one massive trunk. The roots were huge and splayed across the yard like a hand holding out its fingers to greet the earth. This magnificent tree also harbored a lot of life. There was a small hollow at its base where chipmunks, squirrels–and at one time a rabbit–lived. A multitude of birds lived in it, thrived around it, sustained themselves from it. My husband and I put up an antique birdbath and bird feeders right at the window so I could see them close up.

cardinal branch violets The violet carpet in springtime.
The leaves turn scarlet in autumn.
Cardinal on a branch; Violets; The leaves turn scarlet in autumn.

As time went on, I noticed the different seasons and their special beauty. Every spring wild violets carpet my little grove in a beautiful tapestry of purple and white. In summer the tree’s leaves provide a lovely verdant shade and in autumn they are spectacular with scarlet as the season passes. During winter the white snow looks peaceful, with the cardinals and the woodpeckers giving some startling color for contrast.

Now I sit and look out at the flowers my husband and I added, at the cobalt garden globe and the small statue of St. Francis. When I’m up to it, I go out there and enjoy lazing in my hammock with the hummingbirds buzzing around me and the chickadees chirping.

I love my window to the world. I call the area my Serenity Grove because it gives me some much needed peace. It keeps me connected to the world in a very real way, satisfying a visceral need. And I discovered it, in part, because of my COPD.

Wildflowers in my grove.
Wildflowers in my grove.

I hope you, too, have your window to the world.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The COPD.net team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

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