On sunny days, we watch the dawn break slowly, the sun bathing the cityscape in light until the sun emerges from behind buildings and hotels to shine full upon our lifes' spaces. In summer, we pull down transparent shades to shield us from intense heat.

On cloudy days, the distances beckon, the horizons draw our viewings to space and sky, watching clouds moving past, usually to the east.

The humidity level is often obvious. The clarity of the large buildings of St. Paul, so small some 15 miles away, ranges from clear to obscure. Rain, snow, and mist are the agents of obscurity, and most astonishing are the moments of heavy mist, when the huge buildings just a block away disappear, leaving us viewing…nothing, just the reflections of our own glass doors looking back. The world which usually looms so large is amazingly gone, for the moment.

Summer storms are the most exciting. The clouds move over us from the west, and appear suddenly and menacingly. Lightning fills our picture windows, and the thunder often seems just outside our balcony, always exciting, sometimes a bit scary. Occasionally during daytime storms, the sun emerges suddenly, and there is a rainbow (on a rare moment, two) surrounding the downtown cityscape, illuminating the city and our imaginations.

Sublime is the full moon, creeping so slowly between the buildings. We watch its progression moment-by-moment, filling the sky and our hearts. In the late fall, as well, there are magical moments when the sun is just about to set, and the mirrors of downtown radiate colors so dazzling that it can only be experienced.

From our aerie, we look down and see many people, lingering, scurrying, wandering, hurrying to and from work. The distance is odd. We travel often to the ground to join throngs and ones or twos watching the waterfalls of nearby fountains, whose sounds refresh our thoughts.

Looking up from the pavement, we wonder at the show of lights, and ponder the idea of eagles and other creatures that soar to the heights of our lives.