I never really cared whether I had a balcony or not. Honestly, I can't remember every living anywhere that had one. Not that there's anything wrong with balconies. I just never had the opportunity to think about it. Balconies in Austria are pretty common. I suppose they're common in California too, but more popular here.
The typical house out here has a basement and two stories above it with at least one balcony. We live in a built-out apartment on the second floor of my wife's parent's house and it has two balconies. One off the master bedroom and a larger one for the kitchen and living room. Noah, our son, has his own strawberry plant on it he tends to, or well, his mama does at least. The wooden tray that spans the railing holds tons of colorful flowers. There seems to be a silent competition between the neighborhood wives about who has the prettiest flowers. I'm not a flower kind of a guy, but I must admit, our flowers are right up there with the best.
This morning I woke up to my daily Austrian cappuccino. Instead of drinking it in front of the BBC, CNN, or the other english speaking channels, I decided to head out to our balcony. The sun was out and the snow topped mountains reminded me that winter is coming, which also reminded me that it's time to put the snow tires on the car, inspect the skis, locate my winter clothes, bring up wood for the tiled heater, and all the other stuff that comes with living in the Alps. The view from our balcony isn't just a view; it's a four season alarm clock.
I like balconies now. Maybe I'll get one someday when we move back to California. I can pretend I'm in the Austrian Alps overlooking the unreal landscapes, or get some flowers to hang over the railing. The friendly neighborhood wives could join in the fun right? Perhaps I'll sit at a table, drinking a 'California' cappuccino this time, and wait for the seasons to change too. But I suppose we need seasons for that.
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