Most mornings Sam and I have cereal on the front porch. It’s a good time to greet the day and watch our world that changes little. The squirrel, which we think is the same squirrel, runs up the oak tree, bypassing the hanging moss. He flings himself from a limber oak limb clean over to the pear tree. Occasionally he drops a pear to the ground; other times he sits back on his haunches and munches. Bits of pear fall to the ground. Sam says, “He’s dropping as much pear as he eats. Why’s he doing that? Is he just going for the seeds?”
I have no idea, so I continue with my cereal, trying to ferret out the bananas. The bananas are the best part. Soon the squirrel shimmies down the tree and across the yard. He stops a moment to look at us, then runs under the truck.
“I bet he’s going for my wires. You know the wires have peanut oil and squirrels will tear them up.”
About that time, the squirrel continues across the gravel driveway, beyond the garage and into the woods. The little fellow does this every morning, and every morning we have the same conversation. The only difference is that sometimes I have blueberries in my cereal.
Porches are wonderful places. I read they’ve been a part of “Americana” since Colonial Days. Porches make me think of Andy Griffith. I love those black and white episodes that end with Andy, Aunt Bea, Opie and Barney sitting on the porch, conversing about the day or some matter that’s just been settled in Mayberry.
The house my momma grew up in had a porch, and later when we visited there we always ended up sitting on the porch. When Grandma’s youngest son moved into the family home Grandma moved into a smaller house. That house had a porch as well. When all the family came they still squeezed onto the porch.
Seems porches fell somewhat out of favor as people installed air conditioning, bought cars to travel new places and listened to radio programs. Later, the totally addictive television set drew families inside and sometimes apart.
One statistic shows single-family homes with porches were up 21 percent in 2013 over 1993. I bet in the South that statistic could be even higher. Among houses that are being restored, remodeled or “flipped,” porches are making a comeback. I love driving through Columbus’ Southside and looking at all the different porches.
Some afternoons, when the sun is dipping below the tree line and making the temperatures dip with it, we slip out to the back porch and stir up the air with the ceiling fans while watching the cardinals, indigo buntings and the doves feed. Silvery fish jump in the pond at eventide. Little lizards, “skinks” we call them, scoot along the wooden rails. Then there’s the little green tree frog.
Seasons change regularly in the Prairie, but little else.
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