“What are you going to do this afternoon, Gran?” Annabel asked.
“Write the first draft of next week’s column. What do you think I should write about?” I answered.
“Fall. That it finally feels like fall,” my 10-year-old Grand said. She laid her head back in one of our front porch rocking chairs and smiled smugly as she rocked back and forth.
My Grand was almost on target of what I had in mind. Finally, the weather has cooled enough that Husband and I can once again enjoy our front porch. One of the things I immediately liked about our house when we were house hunting as few years ago was its covered wide front porch. “That’s big enough for rocking chairs,” I told Husband. He agreed and before we even closed on our hew home, we began shopping for front porch chairs, white wicker rockers.
Say white wicker rockers three times and you’ll probably say what I said the first time we went shopping. Whi-te ricker wockers stuck in my head and even now, three years later, I concentrate to say wicker rockers and not add an extra syllable to white. On moving day, our two rocking chairs were the first furniture placed. They were inviting, but we worked. At the end of that stressful, physically exhausting day, Husband and I drank a cool drink and rocked. And we talked. About the day. About what we needed to do next. About the fact that most of the leaves were off the trees on this mid-November day. About the leaves that hung high on an oak tree.
Since that day, when either of us say, “I’m going to the front porch,” that’s short for “I’m taking a rest or I need a break. I’m going to rock for a bit and you are welcome to join me.”
A wide covered front porch was common years ago. One of my favorite pictures of my maternal grandparents was taken on my grandfather’s parents’ porch. I’ve been told it was a gathering place, a place to settle the world’s problems. When guests came, the men went to the porch after supper and leaned back in straight back, caned bottom chairs. My paternal grandmother had an old wooden church pew on her front porch and it was my favorite place at her home. We waved at every passing car and I’d tell Granny everything that happened at school that day and complain that Mom expected me to keep my room clean. We broke green beans and shelled black-eyed peas and cracked black walnuts.
Cooler temperatures welcome front-porch sitting. After weeks of hot weather, I’m glad to wrap up in a sweater and even cover up with a blanket and rock. Husband and I wave and greet neighbors who walk their dogs. Neighborhood children ride bikes and scooters. We watch the sunset, although we don’t have an unobstructed view, and see the moon rise in the East and all seems right with the world.
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Filed under: Everyday Life | Tagged: front porch, rocking chairs |
Susan Writes 
Coming let’s go swing on the front porch, as kids we always got told to not swing so high. Family on the porch in rocking chairs, ladder back chairs, setting on the steps, and the swing was loaded. We would wave at the cars as they went by, even if we didn’t know then, and some would honk their horns as to say hello back. Good times.
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