Sunny and cold. A nice return to winter after the balmy rainfest that occupied the end of last week. Still, more than a foot of snow remains in my front yard. The unruly juvenile in the Pacific creates unique juxtapositions.

The building in which I work is approximately 100 years old, give or take a decade. The building faces the cove and--as so many buildings on our granite island must--takes the hill into account, such that what is ground level at the front of the building is basement at the rear. It's made of brick with large windows, most of which are the old-fashioned counterweighted kind. The windows in the rear section of the building appear to be updated models with metal frames. These have a small portion at the base that tilts to admit the breeze at sill-level; above glass runs to the ceiling. None of them have storm windows so the building is drafty. I am grateful for the drafts after years of working in hermetically sealed buildings; they always gave me the creeps.

Chuck works in a corner office at the rear of the top floor. It has metal-frame windows on the two exterior walls. Today, the views are delightfully disorienting. If you sit in the chair opposite his, there is one set of windows on your right and another directly in front of you. The hill rises sharply toward the rear and presents a 90% angle outside of the right window with a path cut out of the rock, parallel to the building, providing a level buffer of about 15 feet; a more gradual slope is evident through the other window. The right-hand view is nearly solid green with ivy. It covers the rock and has subsumed several large trees; the green cascades. Straight ahead, there is snow, little-to-no ivy, and an abundance of leafless shrubs and trees. To the casual eye, it seems as though Spring has sprung behind the building, while Winter maintains dominance on the side. When I noticed it, I felt dizzy, almost giddy. I confess that I ceased paying attention to the information Chuck was sharing with me and, instead, played games with my eyes and mind, juggling the disparate visual stimulation framed by the windows.

How hilarious is it that this description is written in such a stiff and self-conscious tone, even though the experience it describes is all about the right-brain?

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