I got home from work at an ungodly hour last night. Couldn't wait to see the windows, but there are no lights in my kitchen, so I stumbled around in the half light to see.
I'm so glad we did this. Now, when I stand at the sink, I will be able to see my kids playing in the backyard.
Kitchens at the time my house was built served such a different function than they do now. Sure there was a window. Maybe the sink was even under this window. But the window was so high that you couldn't see into the backyard well unless you stood on tippy toes, and not so well even then. It didn't look weirdly high. It was only noticeable when you tried to see if the kids were still there and alive, or if the car was parked in the driveway. (The giant circular driveway, which takes up most of my backyard, is the subject of another post. It was clearly designed for a horse and buggy to turn around. Lots of houses had them, I think mine is the only one in the neighborhood that still has it.)
I guess the lady of the house didn't stand at the window much. I assume that there was a cook. Or maybe the kids (or kid, in the case of my house) didn't play in the backyard. Or if she did, no one felt the need to be able to see her. The horse that would have been parked back there is taller than a car, so it would not have been hard to see the horse from that window. I'd love to know more about how that all worked.
My first contractor, who did some work on the house for us, practically refused to lower the window. He said that the giant block of stone that is the base of the window was too big. (This has a name, I just can't remember it. Not the sill, something else. No time to google.) Anyway, he seemed to think it was immovable, unbreakable. He implied that it would be a hugely expensive task. Clearly, it was just too much of a pain in the ass for him. This contractor said "pshaw" to that, and my KD said "you HAVE to lower the window." I honestly don't know how much we paid for this project, I don't know if it was even a line item. But it is done. And apparently, based on reports of earthquakes in the house yesterday, it was a huge pain in the ass. But it is wonderful. I stood where someday I will have a sink, and could see the whole backyard. The house suddenly feels so much less oppressive. I never want to let the kids play outside unless I am actually out there with them. (My husband does not feel so constrained. I'm surprised he's never lost one out there.) Now, I can imagine them playing on the swings, while I putter around, a simple glance out the window telling me that they are just fine.
When I inspected my new window in the dark last night, the kitchen felt really cold, like there was a door open somewhere, but the giant piece of plywood was nailed across what will someday be a doorway, so I just went to bed. It was surprisingly cold in the house this a.m. No wonder. When I went into the kitchen in the light, I saw that there is a large hole in the brick wall where the gas range will be vented. I knew the range had to be vented. Just never really thought about the fact that that would require cutting a hole in the 15-inch brick walls. I think that had a lot to do with the noise and dust yesterday. I hope it doesn't look really ugly from the outside. My poor neighbors.
We're making progress.
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