There are always office quirks, I suppose. I’m getting to learn the ones here. My last office was in a monument to the 1960’s brutalism movement on the 3rd floor. None of the doors fit properly, which led to horror movie style wuthering when it got blustery out. In addition, the building design made it so that it was a black hole for birds who would fly in the open balcony railings and then beat their heads against the glass terrarium-like windows to try and get out again. We rescued most, with a net on a stick and plenty of squealing and flapping, but dead bodies were a common occurrence.
My new office is in the old Citrus Grower’s house, in what I think must have been the old sleeping porch. There are windows on 2 sides, I am already referring to it as the tower, and it has an amazing view of freeway, mountain, and sky. When the wind blows here, it whips the trees into a whispered frenzy. And strange things drop from the sky with a thud.
It turns out that there is a palm tree in front of me. It’s too close to the house for me to see the fronds, and the trunk is mostly blocked by the thick frame of one of the windows. The alarming things raining down are the palm seeds, striking the roof of the kitchen-wing I overlook. I thought it might be the apocalypse for a minute, there. Now if I can just avoid the rattlesnakes in the “native area” out front next summer, I should be good to go…
I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. That view really makes up for a lot, though.
Casey E. Hamilton 