Wyoming Through My Window

So, what is this blog all about, you might wonder. Let me parse the name.

Wyoming

No, not the state. Not the valley in Pennsylvania, and not the cities in Michigan, Minnesota, or Delaware (and there are probably more). I am writing about Wyoming, Ohio, where I have lived for the last eight years. It is a suburb of Cincinnati, a neighbor of Lockland, and home to the Cowboys.  Its streets are lined with an amazing variety of architecture and historic homes. And it is a wonderful community of neighbors.

My Window

Most of the windows in my house are 130 years old. Double hung sash, balanced with weights on ropes. Once upon a time there were interior shutters on all of them for privacy, and to keep out the hot sun, but now all that remains are indentations where the hinges used to be. The sashes are are made from old hardwood, and are in excellent condition – the wooden storm windows, maybe as old as the house, have helped with that. Most of the windows still have their original, wavy glass panes, the kind that make the world wobble just a bit when you look through them.

Through

Ever wish you had a magic mirror? Or window? That would transport you to another time and place? I think we all have. Maybe our destinations are different. Mine is to the past. When I look through the wobbly glass panes, and squint my eyes just a little, I think I can glimpse a fleeting image of who and what was here before. There are hints in the buildings, the trees, the patterns of the streets. We aren’t the first, and won’t be the last, to head out that road to work, to play in that yard, or to sit in a chair by that window and watch the leaves fall, the flowers bloom, and the neighbors stroll by in the evening.