The Small, Everyday Wonders We Notice When We Slow Down
Windows are more than architectural features. They are frames, of seasons, of neighbors, of movement, of stories unfolding whether or not we step outside.
Do you ever stop to think about the things you see from the window?
I recently watched a television show about a couple who built a home completely underground. The importance of windows then struck me. They had some skylights, but a skylight is very different from a window. First, to really look out of a skylight, you have to lie on the floor, the couch, or the table, depending on where the skylight is. Next, the skylight panorama is really quite limited. You are looking up rather than looking around.
Attending to the view from the window suddenly became quite important. Some of you may be reminded of Rear Window, which is quite dramatic. Others may think that the bird feeders outside your kitchen window make washing the dishes more pleasant as you observe different species fighting for a perch and admire the occasional downy woodpecker sending all of the others screeching.
So many delightful things happen outside the window. The snow saw the side street turn into a slalom run, which was both great fun and sometimes terrifying. When the trees begin to leaf out, there is an explosion of green hues and shadows that dance along the ground.
Then there are the people. I am particularly fascinated by the young woman who has mastered the unicycle. I like the three‑wheeled, low‑to‑the‑ground tricycle. She is a marvel and must be very strong with exceptional balance. Remember that hill I just described? She pedals up that thing with ease and floats down it at a terrifying speed, all with grace.
A trail of pedestrians walks by on their way to the bus stop, just like clockwork, morning and evening. Then the school bus stops at the corner, and the variety of teens climbing off is truly interesting. What is it about being a teenager that leads to such experimentation? Hairstyles. Clothing. Backpack arrangements. Footwear. You name it, and they are experimenting with it. An artist would have a great time capturing the adventure that unfolds as the school bus lets out.
Then there are the trees that tap on the second‑story windows as though they want to come inside. Skinny branches brush the mullions, making a sound quite different from those tapping the glass. The second‑story windows provide a very different perspective on the world. Why have the neighbors decided to keep this four‑story fir tree that is completely bare except for a top knot of branches? What is the point? Give the fir a decent burial and be done with it.
Windows invite us to notice what we might otherwise miss—movement, change, humor, mystery, and the quiet rhythms of daily life. They remind us that the world is always unfolding, even when we are still.
For more reflections on observation, presence, and the psychology of everyday life, visit Psychology Today’s essays on mindfulness and perception and Greater Good’s research on attention and well‑being.
If noticing the world from your window stirs thoughts about your own inner landscape, therapy can help you explore those reflections with clarity and grounding. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support insight and emotional growth.
By Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst
