I look out of my south living room window and behold a beautiful view--trees, meadows, grazing cattle, wooded hills, a river bed, green grass, and cars passing on the highway.
The view has been free to me for years and years--as free as the air I breathe.
I do not need a picture on my wall. I have only to look out of my south window to see a most beautiful natural picture. It begins at my very window, takes in our own yard, pine trees and pasture and continues on and on for miles across the farms of my neighbors. A west window close to this south window and just around the corner of the house affords a continuation of the view to the westward without getting up from my easy chair. Many a time from these windows we see a beautiful sunset.
I watch for the mail. New neighbors have moved on Old Skinflint's farm across the way. I see their light at night in the poor old ramshackle house which stands empty so much. A car flits by on the highway, then maybe a truck load of baled hay, or a load of wood, or the road drag drawn by horses, or a cream truck, or a horse and buggy, or wagon and team, some farmer hauling hay, or some one on foot, more cars.
Even the view itself has changed with the years as the land has been cleared, fenced, buildings put up and land cultivated. But the wild beauty remains. The change has been so slight and gradual that it seems the same shifting scene it has always been--the scene I love from my south window, that soothes me with its beauty and rests my eyes with its color, that gives our dear home its pleasant name--Southview.