I readily admit I'm a wimp about the cold. So that might explain how momentous it was for me this afternoon, despite the lingering chill in the air, to open the window over my desk. My initial purpose was to see if I could figure out what was going on with the cawing, swirling gang of about eight crows out back. (They must have been playing some kind of indecipherable crow game, because no other bird or beast seemed to be involved.) Once I got the window open, however, and felt real live air pouring in, I realized that it had probably been months since I last opened a window. I could hear the crows, of course, as well as the neighbor's barking dog, the quiet white noise of the river, sociable mallards cruising up and down the banks in interchanging pairs, a scolding squirrel, and the rustle of crisp, wind-tossed leaves blanketing our yard. Now, even though I'm freezing, I'm hesitant to close the window and cut myself off again from what's going on out there. Although, every time a gust of winds stirs up all those dead leaves, it's reminding me that soon I'll have to undertake my annual chore of raking the yard to expose my flower beds and lawn to what will hopefully be the kinder, gentler air of spring.

An open window:
rustle of dead leaves, crisp breeze.
Not quite warm enough.