I have always had a thing for windows. And doors.
Oh and rooftops and chimneys
And for bicycles leaning against railings.
But mostly for windows.
A window, with its sturdy wooden frame weathered by time, can stand as a testament to the many eyes that have gazed through it, pondering the mysteries of the world beyond. A world that can look quite unremarkable and yet with the addition of the window frame it can suddenly be perfectly framed.
The photo can showcase a rustic, old window overlooking a serene garden. The garden is a burst of colours with early blooms, hinting at the onset of spring. The contrast between the rugged texture of the window frame and the delicacy of the blossoms speaks volumes about the resilience and renewal inherent in nature.
The beauty of this view lies in its simplicity and the quiet narrative it weaves—of days warming up, of nature slowly awaking from its slumber, and of life’s quiet persistence amidst the chaos of the world outside. It reminds us to pause, reflect, and cherish the natural vignettes framed by the windows in our lives.
My camera roll is, therefore, awash with photographs of windows. Some of them its the window itself that caught my eye, huge stained glass affairs with a variety of colours and shapes that has stood the test of hundreds of years. Wars. Change and rebuilding all around. In others it is about that view beyond and the narrative the frame has created.
For a while I shared window pictures on a weekly basis, unsurprisingly calling it Window Wednesday. A few people joined in too. Somewhere along the way, as I fell out of love with posting on here and then with social media in general, this stopped. I still took the photos but I no longer shared them.
In an effort to find ways to make me post more on here and on instagram I am going to try and share some over the coming weeks.
I hope you like them.