Even poor old Job finally caught a break after his catalogue of woes, so his much-vaunted patience should be an example to me and I shouldn’t be a whiner, but this season just brings it out in me. Although I love the beauty and bittersweetness of the autumn, one aspect is a real bummer.
The home Larry and I moved to came with a deck. The previous owner, Ernie, built it himself and it was a source of great pride for him. And, as these things go, it was nice enough, we supposed, but we just aren’t deck people. We’re from the southerly climes and we are porch people.
When I was a child, my parents and I lived in a home with a porch. It wasn’t screened, but it had a white swing where conversations and cooling breezes took place. Then, as a young woman, I lived in a house with a screened porch. Since the house was on a bit of an incline, I felt as though I was overlooking much of the tree-blest neighborhood. Good memories.
That being the case, after a few years of “deckdom,” Larry and I said good-by to that underneath-shelter for uninvited, unwanted critters, had it removed and contracted folks to build a screened porch off of the bedrooms: a place to wander out to in the mornings with a hot beverage and savor the outdoors—trees, we have trees!--safe (mostly) from biter-bugs. It seamlessly integrates with the house, although essentially, it too is a deck, but with a superstructure with amnities such as ceiling fans and electrical outlets. And, as we quickly discovered, it was a perfect place to entertain not just ourselves, but others as well. As our kind neighbor, Wally, says, it’s the best room in the neighborhood.
Slowly the porch took on the persona of entertainment-central. Lots of chairs, a dining table, and best of all, a bar cart are some of its attractions. The drinks cart was a later addition. We saw a production of the George Bernard Shaw play, “Man and Superman,” part of which takes place in the underworld, not the one with the unwanted critters, at least not that are discussed, but the one from that book where Job hangs out, and I noted that the devil had a really swell drink’s cart and determined that this would be just the ticket for our porch. How had I been so negligent not to think of this need myself? Art is such an inspiration!
So, all set up for entertainment on the porch, let the fun begin. And so it has.
For One: there have been solitary afternoons with a book and a drink in “my chair” that sometimes have led to another little delight: the afternoon nap quasi-viewing the canopy of trees.
For two: there is summer breakfast and/or dinner on the porch where Larry and I sit, eat, and enjoy greeting neighbor-passers-by as they go along walking themselves and/or their dogs.
For some: prissy little-lady luncheons have happened as well as our book group gatherings. Small-group evenings frequently occur with just a few friends, some treats, and what I have come to think of as a whole genre of wine: porch wine—light and summery with maybe just a hint of fruitiness.
For many: there are big ol’ blow-out events like Derby parties. I especially remember one year –julep-makings on the drinks cart—with our New-Jersey-born-friend, Noreen, encouraging and leading everyone in the singing of “My Old Kentucky Home.” That memory brings a smile and a tear simultaneously.
And now, it’s time of year to whine a bit—not quite as patient as Job—as we pack up the memory-making and décor and put the porch to bed for the winter with hopes for the springtime.
Music: "Front Porch" by John Hartford
