The happy kitchen window brings joy

I’ve never considered myself a green thumb, but a window in my kitchen might belie that confession.

I call it my happy window, and I admire it out loud all the time.

Oh, look how pretty that is.

Is that another bloom over there?

Doesn’t that just make you want to smile?

We’ll be sitting at the kitchen table, and I’ll start with the adoration, like a proud mother admiring her children, bragging that “That’s my son!” or “Look at my daughter!” or “That’s my kid over there!”


The window has no curtain but instead is draped with plants, a grouping of planters and stacked potted things and hanging baskets.

They are like a little close-knit family or neighborhood and a happy one at that, all hanging out together, hence my name for this window being the happy window.

It gets the afternoon sun, and that seems to make these ferns, spider plants, a big cluster of geraniums, an orchid and an amaryllis thrive.

Or maybe it’s because of house history and the green thumbs before me, including the old white wicker planter against the window that is home to some of the plants. After all, it’s the very same planter my grandmother and mother used in that very same space.

Maybe tradition has a say-so in the health and well-being of what’s there, even though the plants and people are different.

I don’t really know.

All I do know is that it makes me happy to have greenery in my sight during the winter months as much as the warm ones, a sight to savor and appreciate.

And with this next weekend bringing the time change, the spring ahead to more daylight hours, and the promise that before too, too long, we’ll be back at it again, outdoors planting and plotting flowerbeds, well, that makes me pretty happy.

I’ll be back, too, to being challenged yet again over the difference between annuals and perennials. I don’t know what it is about those two types of flowers, but I get them reversed in my brain every planting season.

I’ll go on my May plant shopping spree and plant a bunch of stuff, and then Better Half will look at all my work and casually comment that, it comes up every year, right?

Then I have to stop and think — and check the little plant markers.

Duhhh. I’ve done it again.

The only thing that’s coming up every year is the weeds.


And the dumb gardening award goes to….

But that’s OK. I’ll get it right one of these years.

And in the interim, I’ll take delight in my happy window.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at