Out here there's no need to blind the windows. The sky pours in all day. I see birds and sun, sunrises and sunsets, storm clouds, the porch. Yesterday came three fat bluebirds trying to drink from the birdbath. I can see Highway F and the postal carrier's lime-green jeep, the hills across the road, my rugged rural Missouri.
And the sky pours in all night. Woke this morning with rulers of blue moonlight right on top of me and my bed. That tells me the moon is waning. I'm snug under two blankets and a flannel sheet. The south-facing window on clear nights is full of stars. Nothing in their way: Just black sky and constellations.
If I curtained my windows, what would I have? It is true that SOMEBODY can sneak around the house and peek at me or my stuff. But a Peeping Tom would get no thrill, I guarantee you. And a thief wouldn't see anything he wanted. What, a space heater? A 25-year-old exercise bike with 4,500 miles on it? Hey -- you don't look INTO my windows to see treasure. You look OUT.