When I return to France in the summer, I awaken every morning to this view of my parents' side house bathed in the soft light of the Loire Valley. The light caresses the exterior plaster of this 200-year-old house. Surrounding the window, the luminous white limestone, known as "Tuffeau stone," reveals an infinite range of shimmering hues. A weathered metal railing, aged and rusted, provides a perfect setup for a painting. I lie in bed, contemplating how I will capture this unique light, a skill the French impressionists mastered over a hundred years ago. Since I am not a 19th century art master, I have my work cut out for me. Employing an impressionist technique with an American perspective, I endeavor to depict the French window. Notice that there is no screen to protect against mosquitoes, and the windows do not open like they do in the US. The towering window swings inward, inviting an expansive, unobstructed view of the outside world. Referred to as "French Windows" in American language, the term may lack originality, but it certainly surpasses the rather unromantic French description for American sash windows: The Guillotine Window!