by
Jackie King
A
couple of years ago, I decided to sell my 4-bedroom house and get myself
settled into a cozy writing nest where I could age in place. The plan was that
I would have nothing to worry about except writing, which I love. (Well,
love/hate, but that’s a different essay.)
The
first step was to find the right nesting place. After visiting several
different facilities, I chose Woodland Terrace, in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Tulsa has
been my home since I was in my twenties.
I
looked at a number of different apartments and floor plans. Nothing in my price
range seemed just right. However, the last place I perused seemed to reach out and
wrap invisible arms around me. This pad was on the third floor, close to the exercise
room, and best of all, the large window looked out into the tops of gorgeous
oak trees. It was May, and I looked into a green wonderland filled with squirrels
and birds. I was in love.
 |
| Looking outside my window in early Autumn |
Just
gazing into the lush growth of green leaves, transports me to to a lakeside in the country. I have taken pictures of my
trees in every season and I love each change.
Downsizing
and moving was a nightmare, which I would have never survived if not for my
youngest daughter, Jennifer and my BFF, Judy Rosser. But with the help of those
close to me, I made the change successfully and now spin my stories glancing
out the window from time to time for inspiration.
Birds
nest just outside my window and squirrels romp, leaping from branch to
branch.
When
I grow tired at my computer, I walk a few steps to my bedroom and lie down for a while. There I
rethink my plot and characterization.
I love my life, and I
love my new pad!
Sounds good, Jackie. We haven't moved for a while and I'm not looking forward to the time when, I suppose, we may have to.
ReplyDeleteAs for looking out of the window - I used to write in a spare bedroom which faced onto the street. It's the main road west out of Aberdeen (the one that leads eventually to Balmoral, so we have high class neighhbours). If I ever got stuck in the writing, I'd look out of the window and, almost invariably, there'd be something peculiar happening - a car with strange stuff on the roof, a person dressed in a 'different' way - and I go back to my desk, get my policeman to walk to the window and he'd see and reflect on what I'd just seen. Now I write in a room which looks onto the garden. No cars or people but greenness, flowers, a yew tree and my carvings stuck in amongst them all. I feel privileged.
I've seen pictures of your garden and your carvings; this scene would inspire me. Perhaps you will never have to move. Where I live isn't for everyone.
ReplyDeleteYour description of the road west out of Aberdeen, leading to Balmoral, sounds wonderfully exotic to this Okie!
I'm happy for you, Jackie. My view from my writing window is of the Laramie Mountain peaks, now covered with snow. The view has inspired my next novel.
ReplyDeleteHi Jean, I've seen pictures of your view, and it puts mine to shame. I'd live to visit you one say and see this marvelous vista. No wonder you're so prolific!
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome to come for a visit anytime, Jackie.
ReplyDeleteThanks, dear friend.
ReplyDelete