The Glass Pane

There is a huge glass pane on one side of my front room; the side that looks at the lake across the little grassy slope and bare headed winter trees. Outside the glass pane, the wind is chilly and ever moving; rubbing against the little perennial shrubs - most probably Cotoneasters; brushing against the cars parked at the bottom of the slope; howling and growling at strangers and friends alike; caring for none, stopping at nothing. On this side of the glass pane, everything is the opposite, just as you would imagine. The air is warm and ever still; sitting gently atop all animate and inanimate objects; quiet and at peace with it’s surroundings. I often turn the central heating down and sit by the window pane. My usual companion is a cup of Green Tea; today it is a bowl of Quinoa and peppers. My laptop is sitting on a bright golden brown cushion as I am typing. Imagine me sitting cross legged in my blue- red spotted dress- El vestido- a new word I learnt in class today. My hair is tied up in a bun on my head. Some strands have escaped the clutches of the black rubber band and are now scattered about my ears and nape; too tiny to be held within the roll.

     It is getting cold inside the room. The heat has not been turned on since yesterday night. I like sitting by the pane with the heat turned off. Through some invisible cracks and fissures the cold wind from the outside seeps into the interior of my room. It has an amazing effect on my unclad skin. Tiny little goose bumps are spreading all over my arms as I type on. Signs of life in a muted house. On days that I sit here motionless, not thinking, just looking at the lake, the sudden irruption of these bumps on my skin draws attention to all the other quiet, uncomplaining, tireless processes that keep me alive; yet I thank them so little. The beating heart, the batting lashes, the steady inhalation and expiration...

     The wind outside is playing with the water of the lake at the moment. I see it riding on the beams of the slowly fading sun, touching and missing the little waves as they keep rising and falling. Lake Ontario is a sea in itself. It has some very populated islands in it. The Toronto Islands on its Western end, the Thousand Islands, the Galloo Island added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1983, the Wolfe Island which is the largest in the basin and a number of others. When for the first time I had visited the Toronto Islands, I could not believe that it belonged to a lake. It has residential houses, a forest, a generous amount of beach area, a little zoo and even an airport of its own serving the city of Toronto. It is this very amazing lake, one of the five Great Lakes of North America that I am looking at right now. A gentle blue giant playing with the restless gusts of cold Westerlies!

 

 

photo: www.flickr.com