Modern Hill Woman

“I believe we could all be living much simpler, leisurely lives if we simply revived the lost art of sitting on the front porch.”

—Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

The front porch became an iconic feature in American homes in the early 1800s as a way to enjoy nature and to socialize. Many southern porch ceilings were painted sky colored “haint blue” to ward off “haints” or ghosts from the home by tricking the ghosts into passing through, or may have been used to mimic water, which ghosts supposedly could not cross.

With the invention of air conditioning, porches weren’t needed for cooling off. A garage or entryway is often the most prominent feature on newer homes today.

My front and back porch are special places. There’s something about a worn and comfortable rocking chair, or a slightly squeaky porch swing, that makes you want to sit a spell. Time passes slowly on the porch.

From my front porch I watch the world awaken. The birds begin to sing and stir. The hummingbirds come by for a little nip and to battle for the title of king of the feeder. There are two wild geese who have decided they like it here and they wait for the man to give them some grain. The cat sits by the pond, stalking the geese. If she catches one, I’m not sure what the outcome will be.

I sit and rock and drink my coffee, planning my day, with the dog laying at my feet. It’s a quiet and tranquil place. As the day wears on, the porch’s purpose changes. When I’m hot and exhausted from yardwork, it’s a place to sit and have a cold drink and recharge.

I have a porch swing that’s long enough to lay on and I’ve been asked to not fix the rhythmic squeak, squeak, squeak. Many naps surrounded by the sounds of the day have been taken on that swing by kids and grownups.

When our family gathers, it’s usually on the back porch. We grill, listen to music, light a fire, and just hang out. There are stories told, and re-told. The memories shared there are like pages from an old dog-eared book, fondly revisited.