“This is living,” I declared the other night when we were eating blueberry cobbler a la mode on the front porch. Mom and Dad were cuddled on the bench,
some were rocking,
and others leaned against the porch post or even sat on the floor.
I didn’t mind that my planters are empty or that I haven’t hung the window box, or cleaned the pollen off of the porch furniture.
Because in that moment, having my porch filled with my people was enough.
Mimi Read said it best in the May issue of Southern Living,
Some Southern porches are bastions of tradition, others radiate a more contemporary chic, and still others are humble places where sagging sofas get dragged out for one last hurrah. But, whatever their characteristics, porches are by definition romantic.
They’re safe yet never static transitional zones between the clatter of the outside world and the tranquility of home. Porches are steeped in the magic of in-between places, putting us in touch with the rhythms of nature but letting us hang onto a sense of decorum and comfort. In that way, they’re the best of both worlds.”
Enjoying dessert in the comfort of my porch, no matter how humble a state it may be in, was just the invitation I needed to spend a little more time enjoying that magical in-between place.
p.s. If you get a chance, I highly recommend reading the entire article in Southern Living.
See you in class,