7 Hours Later

What I was trying to remember was staring me in the face all day. Earlier I had written that I was trying to remember some social commentary I was allegedly going to make. Well maybe it is and maybe it isnt but this is it. I have been carefully attending my window boxes so that I can create some flora. I make compost all winter and I tend these little window boxes like they were 40 acres each, carelully turning over the soil and allowing the mulch to ferment eager for the time that I can plant. I dont need to plant though because I eat a lot of vegetative products that contain seeds, and these seeds land in the compost. After what seems to be perfect germination these seeds grow into plants like I have my own personal little nusery and this variety is as vast as beans to corn to squash to tomatoes and back and then the morning glory that I saved from my real garden on 6th street. Anyway my windows are filled with these wonderful plants and that is what brings me to my little commentary. I look up in NYC all the time, I look up and see window after window after window and my windows in my apartment are no different- in fact, from the street, you can hardly even see my plants since each window is a little tile, a little rectangle or whatever shape it is just darkly posing against its buildings side - cold, impersonal and quiet. But from the inside, my windows are my world. I see the tiniest of blossoms on the bean plants (stalks if you desire) and I see the little toys I have placed in the dirt in the boxes to accentuate the landscape. These windows paint the rosy glow that I see every day -from my windows I am given peace. Each persons window should paint themselves that same rosy glow.