Porch Lessons

Deb and I live in a lovely house in West Chester that's recently turned 100 years old. And our block is lined with other houses much like ours. An architect friend called this "the most beautiful block in West Chester." We sort of lucked into owning this place, but that's a long story to tell some other time.

Like so many houses of a century ago, the front of ours is graced by a lovely porch. The porch faces south, which means that, sitting out there at sunrise sipping tea, you can watch the dawn break off to the left. And sitting out there at sunset sipping sherry, you can watch the day end off to the right. And day or night, there's almost always a gentle breeze...

(Before proceeding, you might want to try clicking on the above photo. Depending on the software in your computer, the picture may expand to full size. It's really kind of nice. And you can get back to this blog posting by clicking on the "Back" arrow at the top left corner of your screen.)

Looking at the photo, you can see several bird feeders suspended under the porch roof. (The birds appreciate these feeding stations when it rains or snows!) You can also see the three pieces of purch furniture (a rocker, a table and a chair) that inhabit the porch from early April to early November, thereabouts.

The hedge you see on the right separates the front edge of the porch from our small front yard -- and it does a wonderful job of masking us from neighbors and passers-by: we can hear them and see them, but we remain invisible to them. And the birds love to bounce through the hedge or just sit deep inside the hedge and chat. Usually with themselves, sometimes with each other, and -- on special occasions -- they chat with us.

One of the best days of the year for Deb occurs in the early spring when I bring the porch furniture out of the baesement, hose it off, and place it as you see it in the photo. I've made it a habit to bring it out when she's off running errands or somesuch, so that it's a surprise when she returns home and sees it sitting in its rightful place. I believe she sees this as the official end of winter.

It's not unusual for Deb to spend an hour or two in the early morning sitting out there -- reading, meditating, listening to the birds, waiting for the sun to rise. And equally likely that she will spend an hour or two just before bedtime out there as well. She has always understood the gifts that the porch has to offer.

The reason that I'm writing about this in my health blog is that I have "lost" the porch over the last several years. Sure, I would occasionally sit out there with Deb because I know she enjoys having me out there with her -- but that's the point: I'm sitting out there with Deb and for her as opposed to being on the porch for myself whether Deb is out there or not.

And it's just occurred to me over the last several days -- when I've been sitting out on the porch by myself reading a murder mystery, listening to the birds (and also our human neighbors), being refreshed by the breeze, sipping tea -- how different it is to be totally there because you want to be there and you're soaking in the sounds, the sights, the peace and quiet of this lovely place as opposed to doing a favor for someone you love. I started doing this sitting-and-reading act because I'm really not physically ready to do much else. But now, I'm sitting, reading, and truly being on the porch.

And all this started me thinking about how quick we are to pass over the simple, familiar pleasures of life -- often the ones that nourish us the most -- in favor of the new, the exciting, the different. We spread our branches farther out as opposed to planting our roots even deeper.

Yin and yang: both are important and each needs the balance of the other.

So here's another gift of my illness and my recuperation: I have my porch back. And maybe an important piece of myself came along with it.

And, if you're ever in the neighborhood, please stop by and spend a little time on the porch with us.