Looking out my window, I see that the RSPCA have just taken away a dog belonging to the mental druggie who lives over the road.
I’m fairly far away from the window - in a room towards the center of the floor I’m on in the library. One wall in this room is all glass.
Beyond that wall, I can see shelves of books, with a window that looks like it’s waaaaay off in the distance, but it’s really not that far away. Outside the window it’s grey and kind of drizzly, and I can see one side of what I think is likely the college of business administration. If I walked over there, I’d know for sure, but I’ve got to get this assignment done.
Gulls working the park, the North Shore mountains up to where they hit the clouds, more clouds, and a little scrap of clear sky that will dis appear as the rain settles in.
Later today, I’ll have a patch of trees and the corner of a building, unless I go over to look down at the pond and courtyard. I don’t expect to see many students out in the rain; they’ll mostly be using the covered walks.
Well, no windows for me… or doors for that matter. But if I go to my doorway and look across the hall and through the next office and out that window,
Nothing like a 700 acre toxic waste remediation to put things in perspective. Also, I think that it’s hilarious that the State Environmental Agency is built on a superfund site. 
It’s raining. In the small field beyond the parking lot, a group of wild turkeys are foraging.
I get to see this lovely lady out my window.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=www.cbot.com/150/images/cres-pict.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.cbot.com/150/e3/dep/ceres-body.html&h=264&w=160&prev=/images%3Fq%3D%2Bsite:www.cbot.com%2BCBOT%2Bceres%2B%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26ie%3DUTF-8%26oe%3DUTF-8
I see her from more from her left. A cool factoid is that she has no facial features because at the time the CBOT was built, it was assumed no one would ever be at a vantage point close enough to distinguish her features.
What is coolest today is what I CAN’T see - namely Lake Michigan. The lake is about 1/2 mile (that’s approximately 42.7 kilograms for you furriners) east of me. This morning was quite foggy, and right now the sun is burning it off. But everything east of Michigan Ave. is lost in a glowing bright haze.
Other things that catch the eye out my window are the Metropolitan jail (a funky triangular building - the convicts in their jumpsuits hoop it up on the rooftop court), the federal center (hulking black Mies vs der Rohe boxes), Soldier Field, and what used to be Meigs. I miss seeing the planes take off and land. Thank you Mayor Daley!
I’m high enough (30th floor) that I see across a lot of rooftops, instead of being hemmed in by other buildings. On a clear day, I can see Gary Indiana. Now THERE’S a treat!
From where I sit, I look out into our backyard. It’s rolling downhill from the house, filled with dogwood trees which are now bare, of course. It’s gray here today, but not raining (yet) but small brown and black birds are scattered among the trees, and occasionally they’ll converse with one another. Birds are also congregated on the rocks around the edge of our pond, which we need to clean and then close down for the winter. (That’s on the “to do” list for this weekend.) The water is full of red and gold leaves, and occasionally a bird will hop down to float on a leaf as he has a drink of the pond.
We get the occasional turkeys and pheasants, but not so much on a day like today. There are also geese, but I think they’ve all flown south already.
Down at the very foot of the property is a stand of old oak and maple trees. There’s a little brown animal just where I can see, at he foot of the nearer trees. It might be a groundhog but then it might be a big squirrel. Then again, it might be the tail of a fox, we’ve seen a couple of them around recently. It’s just beyond the tree line, walking away.
Every now and again, a big bird soars over the yard. He lives somewhere in the trees. I’m not sure what he is, but he’s quite large and imposing. I’m afraid to leave the dog outside alone for fear that the bird will swoop down and carry him off. He’s zoomed overhead a couple of times this morning – the bird, that is, not the dog. The dog is cozily sleeping under my desk.
Hmm, here comes a deer.
And there he goes.
This is much better than living on an upper floor of a high rise in Manhattan. I can’t believe that I didn’t want to move out here.
That would be scary.
I’d rather not say what I see from my office, as it would be a dead giveaway where I work, and the resultant hordes of torch-carrying peasants would upset our doormen.
But at home, I can see—when the trees are not in leaf—the Empire State Building, bright and clear, from my living room.
Hmm … looks like a bit of grass, an expanse of asphalt and cars, an expanse of grass, a street, and a couple of car dealerships. It’s raining.
I want to be at home reading a book by the fire with a cup of tea. Alas, I am at work.
It is sunny here and the wind is blowing the leafless twigs of the shrubs in the space between my house and the neighbors. She has her side window open and I see an etched glass pitcher with some past-their-prime pink carnations in it. Also, two well used red candles in blue candlesticks. On the other side of the pitcher is a pile of paper and folders with a videocassette on top. She teaches in the media/film department at the U of CO, and has been working on a documentary of Buddhist monks in the US, so it could be related to that, or it could be porn.
If I lean to my right and look west, I can see the snowcapped Long’s Peak, a 14,000 foot mountain in Rocky Mtn. National Park. The mountains got lots of good snow last week.
rain. and the side of a place that makes garage doors. and some peoples back gardens.
theres a reason i have my blinds shut throughout the day, aside from the fact the blindingly bright sun shines in my eyeballs as i sit at my mac.
at home, a nice big park.
My window looks onto an alley. I can see a dumpster, and a bunch of parked cars, and an elevator repair van. And the backs of many buildings. Luckily the window is so tiny that I don’t have to see much of this depressing view. Yeah, lucky me.
Well, my window overlooks the shop where all the carpenters make scenery for our shows. Right now, all I can see is a cement wall with an empty paint frame on it. What’s a paint frame, you ask. Well, if you look at this picture, there is one to the left side with some sort of a flat on it. Actually, the area to the right with the second level is kind of like where my office is in my theatre. No looking outside for me.
Through the six inch wide window near my cubicle I see a bit of green lawn scattered with dead leaves…an empty corner of our parking lot, a stretch of unpainted wooden railing and a leafless tree, probably a maple. The sky above is gray and cloudy and there’s no real wind to speak of–the few leaves still falling are falling straight down. Nothing terribly fascinating.
At home, the view from my window is mainly parking lot and trees. Not a bad view, actually, but not exactly of international interest.
I sadly, don’t have a window in my office. But if I went across the hall to an office with a window I’d get a nice clear view of The Sears Tower across the river.
Oh and Dinsdale, that thing about Ceres not having facial features because of the height of the building is a myth, she doesn’t have any features because she’s art deco, and it was a style choice.
The wind whistles sweetly through the trees,
the last wisps of fog cling to the branches
a carpet of leaves cover the ground
so many colours so few words red and orange
alone just will not suffice like sunset on the ground
a full cold moon glaring frostily down
the stars like eyes seeing all caring not
thats about it
I can see a runway. Last week there was a C-141 (I think) doing touch-and-goes all day. Man, was that loud! The C-130’s that we usually get aren’t quite so bad.
And beyond that are the Sierras. It’s a little overcast, but I can see snow on the tops. I know it’s there, because just yesterday, I was there right at the snow line. I wish I still was. On a really clear day, I can see some ski slopes. I don’t know which ones, but three parallel snowy lines make me think that’s what they are. Somewhere around Yosemite. Might be Badger Pass Ski Area.
And if I look real hard out the other window, on a clear day, I can see the Coast Range. No snow there.
Of course, on the foggy days we’re due for any day now, I’m lucky if I can see my truck in the parking lot.
Let’s see, I can see the Ambassador Bridge and I could probably see Detroit if it wasn’t for the beige building in the way. And the independent gas station and the little green space across the street.
This is one of those times that I’m glad I got out of my old crappy appartment (View- parking lot where drug deals go on. Yay.) and into my new one (View- nice little yard, neighbors going to and fro, and the neighbor’s poolhouse (they have an indoor pool.). It makes me very appreciative to be where I am. Also, the window gives me lots of nice sunlight, which is great for staving off my seasonal depression.
To my left, there is a beautiful view. I can see most of the back of the Parliament Buildings (and if I lean real close and look around the corner of the neighbouring building, I can just see the big white shroud hiding the Parliamentary Library while it is being renovated), and the back of the Supreme Court and National Library buildings, with the twin Veterans’ Affairs blocks on the other side of Wellington Street. Not as impressive as the fronts (except for the Library, which can only be seen from the back, at least when it not shrouded), but still a nice view of stately buildings on top of the bluff across the river.
To my front and right, the E.B. Eddy paper mill on this side of the river is an Industrial Age blot on the landscape.