Virginia Woolf

The title is an obvious riff on Virginia Woolf’s A Room with a View.

Technically my official workspace is a Room-with-a-Partial-View upstairs, but I rarely use it. That so-called “real” office has one low-to-the-floor eyebrow window with a small but pretty view if I happen to be crawling around on the floor.

My preferred writing desk is a flip-up shelf in the downstairs dining room, with a row of windows overlooking the river. It’s got just the right amount of legitimate distraction (woodstove needs stoking, birdfeeder needs stocking) and cliché distraction (dishes to be washed, food to be eaten in the adjacent kitchen).

But my favorite way to procrastinate is to pick up binoculars and spy on the birds. I’ve got gangs of chickadees and sparrows, rowdy blue jays, dun-colored goldfinches, and silky waxwings congregating on the feeder just outside my window. Why does the nuthatch hang upside down? Where is Mrs. Cardinal today? All good questions that require my attention.

There’s never any lack of stimulation–I can see the entire back yard from up here, like a captain on a ship’s deck. And this Desk with an Ever-Changing View is captivating in all seasons. Here are a few reasons why:

Late spring is luscious...

with a small sandy beach to keep an eye on...

and a friendly riverside cafe.

Winter is a predictable wonderland, with a thin ribbon of water weaving through.

And spring is full-blown melodrama, depending on rains, snow melt, and dam control.

It's never dull.

Oooh, and my nuthatch is back.

Time to throw another log on the fire. And maybe check out the fridge.