Where I grew up in St. Marys, Pennsylvania, porches were a big deal. Sitting on porches was a primary summertime activity. Both of my grandmothers' houses had big porches with swings on them and so did my parents' house. I love porches and feel a little sad that the custom of porch sitting seems to have fallen out of fashion in many places.
The house I live in has a back porch which I only discovered a few years ago. Of course I always knew it was there. It's narrow and, being on the second floor, has a great view of the old cemetery behind my house. But for some reason I'd never really taken advantage of my porch. I went out occasionally to have a look at the cemetery or hang something over the rail to dry but I didn't really make use of it. Then for whatever reason a few summers ago I bought a very comfy chair that fit perfectly out there and it has been my recreation-of-choice ever since.
It's a wonderful thing to take my book or my Kindle or my knitting and go out and sit on the porch. Sometimes one of my neighbors sees me and walks over to chat. Leslie, downstairs, and Clare, next door, like to come by. Sometimes we have a drink or two as we gab. Many times I just knit or sew or read. But always I love the sounds of my neighborhood, and the beauty of the old cemetery. This year there are more birds than I ever remember twittering and tweeting away. I find it tremendously relaxing.
So, I'm done working for the day and I'm writing this blog post and thinking about the porch. It calls to me. If you need me I'll be out back on the porch, come over and say hello.
Thanks for reading.