Closing Windows

It's that time of year. The first real rain and temperatures firmly planted in the 50s. This is the time for ceremoniously closing the windows, the first being the skylight upstairs. Our remodel was designed so that the open skylight would pull cool air from the basement all the way through the house. On really hot days, it's hard to notice any cooling, but on moderately warm days, we're aware of a nice air flow throughout the house.

We have a lot of windows in the house and if I take a moment to count them, I am a bit surprised to discover there are 16 in total not including the skylight. I thought about washing the windows on my days off last week, but the popped rib in my chest killed those plans. For now the windows remain dirty and after my tour through the house, they are also all closed.

Of the 16 windows, all the ones upstairs (6) were open. Opening the skylight is an ordeal requiring me to stand on the edge of the tub extending the long crank to capture the hoop of the window latch. We open it as the temperatures warm in the spring and close it right about now, when the temperatures dip below 60 and inside the house is too cool for any activity other than vigorously cleaning -- a sweaty endeavor.

I like the windows open. I like sleeping in a cool room, warmed by socks on my feet and my head buried deep in a comforter. But last night, as we snuggled up for sleep, I was chilled and reminded myself that we must close the windows soon since fall had finally arrived. So this morning, I walked around the house checking to make certain the windows were truly shut and the latches secured. Rubin watched, curious, and even barked as I cranked the skylight closed.

This is a brownie kind of day so I whipped up a batch that are now baking in the oven. Ann is taking a nap with the dog upstairs, recovering from her second full week of teaching. I can tell when Ann is ready for a nap. She walks around the house saying, "There's too much to remember," code for, "I just need to lie down and forget about all the things I can't remember." She hummed when I suggested making brownies, a warm hum like fresh brownies were exactly what was needed on this day of rain, cool temperatures and closed windows.

Meanwhile, I can feel myself drifting a bit. There are many things I want to accomplish today -- make another quiche with the last of the zucchini, send off a piece to The Sun magazine, and get the laundry done -- but curling up next to Ann and Rubin feels more pressing. Rainy days like this call for such inaction and who am I to question the demands of fall? The dog has been fed and walked, the brownies are in, the laundry is started, and all the windows are closed. It is a perfect time for sleeping.